“Ah, I should like that! Would you think more of me if I could help your country in some way?”
“Your country, too!”
Herz had come so close to her as they stood in the middle of the quaint old living-room that Douglas felt a desire to run away. She welcomed the sight of Helen running across the lawn from the direction of Grantly.
“Guess!” panted Helen, bursting in on them. “I have seen James Hanks! He was sneaking out of the kitchen at Grantly. Had been in to see Tempy, I reckon. The man is crazy about her. Miss Louise saw him, too, and has ’phoned Mr. Sutton. I fancy he is on the way over here now with those western cousins of his. Funny men, aren’t they? Miss Ella says she never heard of either Mr. or Mrs. Sutton’s having any western kin, and she has known them and all their people for pretty near a century. I believe they are detectives myself, trying to find those runaway darkies.”
While Helen was giving out this information, Herz stood as though he had turned to stone. His face was white with a red spot on each high cheek bone.
“Where is your carrier pigeon?” he asked Douglas abruptly.
“The cage hangs on the porch.”
He drew from his pocket a small note-book and wrote rapidly in it. Tearing out the sheet, he strode to the porch, and with a small rubber band he quickly attached the note to the foot of the docile bird that he had grabbed from the cage without even a “by your leave.”
“What are you doing?” demanded Douglas. Was the man crazy?
“Stop!” cried Helen. “Count de Lestis gave that bird to my sister.”