“Don't know. Why?”
“Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might explain why she let me—”
“Hey?”
“Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me over, even if there wa'n't no reception.”
Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven o'clock, when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down the Turn-off and stopped before the Hammond gate. A man alighted from the buggy and walked briskly up to the side door. There he knocked and then whistled shrilly.
A window overhead was opened.
“Who is it?” asked a feminine voice.
“Don't be frightened, Gracie,” replied the man at the door. “It's me—Nat. I've come home again.”