“Please go now,” Lorinda urged again. She glanced uneasily down the path toward the thatched-roof cottage, but if she knew what had transpired there, she gave no sign.
Elated to have obtained the photograph, Penny and Salt hastened on to the parked press car. Starting the car with a jerk, Salt followed the winding river road.
Penny cast a glance over her shoulder. Through the trees she could see only the roof-top of the thatched cottage in the clearing.
The estate was bounded by a wooden rail fence, in many places fortified with dense, tall shrubbery. The fall weather had tinted many of the bushes scarlet, yellow or bronze. Gazing toward a patch of particularly brilliant-colored leaves, Penny detected movement behind them.
For a fleeting instant she thought she had seen a large, shaggy dog. Then she became certain it was a man who crouched behind the screen of leaves.
“Salt!” she exclaimed sharply. “Look at those bushes!”
The photographer slowed the car, turning his head.
“What about ’em, Penny?”
“Someone is hiding there behind the fence! Perhaps it’s the person who whispered a warning at the thatched cottage!”
“Oh, it’s just a shadow,” Salt began, only to change his mind. “You’re right! Someone is crouching there!”