There were no more words. But why words? As the tide ebbed and murmured and the birds sang in the trees above, they stood silent, immured from all the world, these two, but neither doubting nor fearing.
CHAPTER XXVI
CONCLUSION
In the library of The Crags, the light of dawn stole in through the windows and turned the brilliant light of the lamps into a pale glow. The odor of stale flowers was all about. Mrs. Wellington, with a headache, stood in the doorway. Her husband sat in an armchair with legs outstretched, smoking about his fortieth cigar. Sara Van Valkenberg stood in the middle of the floor. She had been speaking at great length and with many gestures and not once had she been interrupted. When at last she concluded, there was a long silence.
"Well, Belle?" said Ronald Wellington at last, turning his head toward his wife.
"Oh, I am not surprised," said Mrs. Wellington grimly. "I always suspected Koltsoff of some deviltry. I hoped only that it would remain beneath the surface until after the ball. It did. I have not the slightest complaint."
"So; he used this house as a rendezvous for spies!" Mr. Wellington bit at his cigar savagely. "Where is he now?"
"He motored to town an hour or two ago," replied Sara. "His secretary told Miss Hatch that they had booked for the Metric to-morrow."
Mr. Wellington could not repress a smile.