Forrester promised, though strange doubts and misgivings battled with his affection for the girl. But of what use was love, he reflected, if it could not stand the fire and acid tests of life's problematical moments. That the girl loved him he did not question now. It was only this dark and fearsome mystery which continued to hold them apart.
Back home again, Forrester bathed and changed his clothes; then, after looking up his mother and sister and accounting for his absence in a matter of fact manner, he sought Green at his station in the pergola.
"Narrow escape, Mr. Forrester," commented Green, as Forrester shook hands with him and sat down. "Funny how that Miss Sturtevant happened to be so handy. What do you say?"
"I came out to have a talk with you, Green, along that line," replied Forrester. "I have found some of your ideas right to the point. In other ways you don't seem to get anywhere. Now, for example, your surmise about the Italians was correct. Your theory that Lucy is not connected with these people appears to be confirmed by the investigations of the police. The position you take that the 'Friends of the Poor' are located in the vicinity of the tree grows stronger every day. But—you don't seem able to point your finger at a single person or thing that will give us a solid basis upon which to work. That is what I want now—a real suggestion that I can follow up, and through which I may hope to form some definite conclusion or take positive action. We must have action, Green; quick action."
"I have given you a valuable hint, Mr. Forrester, but you turned it down. What about them two people I saw on Prentice's lawn—what about the man who visited Miss Sturtevant and then hid himself behind the tree and pulled out your package while the excitement was on—what about 'em, eh? Why, damn it all!" Green exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pounding a big fist on the palm of his open hand, "just let me get out of here and I'll show you somethin'. How can I get anywhere, just sittin' here communin' with the birds. If you won't let me do it, then get out yourself and find that man. Between him and the girl you got two startin' points that'll bag the whole crew."
Forrester sat in silence after this outburst. Green was right! The detective had pointed an accusing finger at Mary Sturtevant. He had given Forrester positive information that she knew something definite about the "Friends of the Poor," and yet, blinded by his infatuation, Forrester had done nothing.
"All right, Green," agreed Forrester, "I'll work on your suggestions. How can we locate that man, however?"
"If he had a date with her once, he'll have another," asserted Green. "Stick around—that's all. That girl'll solve the case for you yet. Just get her in a tight corner." Then he leaned down to Forrester and added, in a low, confidential tone, "And don't forget that old story about them sireens on the rocks."
————
A few days later Forrester met Mary Sturtevant at a dance. Though he had promised Green that he would watch her, Forrester had dallied over taking the first step. Now, as he chatted with her and felt the spell she always cast over him, Forrester's whole being revolted at the thought of spying upon her.