"I can't think of any better place than the hem of your trouser leg," said she. "A very unromantic hiding place, but it is better to be safe than romantic."
"I wish we could be both," said I.
I agreed with Cynthia in her view of the case. I stood up and rested my foot on the seat at the back of the tree. She took her needle and thread, and, almost entirely by feeling, she sewed the barbaric symbol into the hem. I thanked her, and told her that she must return now, so that no one need know where she had been.
"Before you go, Cynthia, I must give you something of yours."
"Of mine?" asked Cynthia in apparent amazement, but I could detect a tremor in her voice.
"Yes, I found it in the cave the morning that we returned from our dove hunt, and saw that the house was burned. It was on the floor, just where you lost your handkerchief."
I took her palm in mine and slid the locket into it.
"Strange that I should have found it in the cave when I saw you throw it into the stream."
"Yes, it was strange," answered Cynthia, with perfect calmness of tone; "but very curious things happen in this island I have discovered."
Just here I heard a sort of warning cry. Cynthia arose hurriedly.