The horses below began to move again. Durgan went in to Alden. They sometimes heard a thin, impatient voice raised high in questioning tones, and answers given. When the horses had passed the last turn below, the words of the thin voice could be heard clearly.
"Drivah, what is this light?" There was a slight drawl and an assumption of importance.
"I think I have heard that voice before," said the lawyer slowly, listening; "but I cannot tell where."
"Is this the top of the mountain, drivah? Is this the house?"
"I can't be sure, but I think I know it," commented the lawyer again. "Do you recognize it?"
"No, I do not."
Durgan stood out on the road.
"Then drive on. If this is not the summit house, drive on, drivah. Don't stop." There was a note of alarm in the thin tone.
Durgan's lantern flashed its light upon horses and driver and old-fashioned surrey from the hotel at Hilyard. The driver was a silent man, well known on the road. Within, his keen, facile face bent forward in ill temper and alarm, sat an emaciated man, wrapped in a rich fur coat and propped with cushions.
The driver had so far answered in lazy monosyllables. Now, on recognizing Durgan, he pulled up the carriage. The thin-voiced traveler addressed Durgan.