A sudden knock shattered the ecstasy. "Come!" called Thornly and turned to meet his guest. Mark Tapkins awkwardly entered. Mark had been a great resource to Thornly lately. Unconsciously he had been a link between Janet and the Hills. In his slow, dull fashion he repeated all he saw and heard at the Station, and Thornly, trusting to Tapkins's uncomprehending manner, sent messages to the dunes that he knew Janet's keener wit would interpret and understand. But Thornly had still something to learn about Tapkins.
"Any news this morning?" he said cheerily, pushing a stool toward Mark.
"She's come off," said Tapkins with his eyes fixed upon "The Pimpernel."
"Is already off?" Thornly's color rose. "You know you said they were coming soon."
"They've come! Her an' Billy is down t' Davy's."
"And Billy, how is he?" asked Thornly.
"Middlin'. But he ain't complainin' none. Say, Mr. Thornly, I don't know as you understand why I've been runnin' here so much lately? You see I wanted, so t' speak, t' git the lay o' the land 'twixt you an'—her!"
Tapkins kept his eyes upon the vivid face, only by its inspiration could he hold to his purpose.
"Have you got it, Tapkins?" Thornly bent closer and gazed at his visitor keenly.
"I seem t' sense it," was the low reply. "Travel an' city ways, Mr. Thornly, make men understand each other." The old foolish conceit added dignity to the evident purpose with which Mark was struggling. "Now, over t' the Station the crew think you're a 'vestigator!"