"Why, yes," said Christopher. "That is true. Perhaps the hut I spoke of on the shore is best for you, after all." And then, as the young man looked at him inquiringly, he told of what had passed between mademoiselle and Tom Horn and himself. And Anthony listened with favor.
"There you'd be quite alone," said Tom Horn. "It cleanses the soul to be alone after a time of great stress; and things resolve themselves as they would not otherwise."
Anthony asked many questions of Christopher, and the answers seemed greatly to his liking. There were fish to snare and wild fowl to shoot; the hut was snug and faced the sea; the wind swept the beach and the dunes and the bay. The young man drew the air into his lungs in anticipation.
"In such a place," said he, "a man might grow as well as he had a mind to."
"You'll go, then," said the little apothecary, pleased.
"I will," said Anthony. "It's a good thought, and I thank you for it."
Tom Horn said nothing but sat and watched Anthony in the same odd way he had formerly done when the young man first came to Rufus Stevens' Sons. And when, at last, Anthony arose to go Tom went with him.
"I'll take you a step or two on your way," he said.
They paced along, side by side; Anthony was silent; now and again Tom Horn would look at him; more than once the odd clerk seemed about to speak, but paused on the verge of it. At last he said, his head nodding:
"There is a shoal there, and the white ghosts move through the night when the winds blow."