“But I do not understand it.”
Judge Bell smiled slowly, making no reply. He did not expect me to understand.
We descended from the dripping dunes at the place where the judge had left his handkerchief tied to a tree-top to mark the path that dipped into the thicket. The groaning of a fog-horn at the coast-guard station followed us, and the tidal breeze laid an icy hand upon our backs.
The way home was traversed quickly, for it was downhill most of the distance. When we drew near the railroad tracks I caught the judge by his coat.
“Judge,” I said, “I was going to the Sailor’s Rest, because I can’t stay in the House of the Five Pines any longer, but if you will come up and spend the night there, too, I will go back. I hadn’t intended to tell you, but—there are very strange manifestations in that old house, far more amazing than what we saw this afternoon, and you ought to know about them. You owe it to yourself not to miss them; it is research work. I’ll stay there once more if you will. Can you come?”
The judge’s face glowed like a scientist about to resolve the atmosphere into its component parts.
“I’ll come,” he swore. “I’ll be there; watch out for me!”
“Well, then, now!”
“No,” he insisted, “not right away. I’ve got to go home first—the cow—but I’ll be back. Depend on me!”