"You're from McGuire?" asked the man shortly.
"Yes."
"Why didn't he come himself?"
The voice was gruff, purposely so, Peter thought, but there was something about it vaguely reminiscent.
"Answer me. Why didn't he come?"
Peter laughed.
"He didn't tell me why. Any more than you'd tell me why you've been up this tree."
"I'm takin' no chances this trip. I've been watchin'—listenin'," said the other grimly. "Well, what's the answer? And who—who the devil are you?"
The bearded visage was thrust closer to Peter's as though in uncertainty, but accustomed as both men now were to the darkness, neither could make out the face of the other.
"I'm McGuire's superintendent. He sent me here to meet you—to bring you something——"