The moon was riding high in the cloudless blue of the heavens, tricked out with faintly shining stars, when they rode into the “corral” that surrounded the ranch stable. A horse stood tethered at the gate.
“Hello, a visitor!” cried Cameron. “A Police horse!” his eyes falling upon the shining accouterments.
“A Policeman!” echoed Mandy, a sudden foreboding at her heart. “What can he want?”
“Me, likely,” replied her husband with a laugh, “though I can't think for which of my crimes it is. It's Inspector Dickson, by his horse. You know him, Mandy, my very best friend.”
“What does he want, Allan?” said Mandy, anxiety in her voice.
“Want? Any one of a thousand things. You run in and see while I put up the ponies.”
“I don't like it,” said Mandy, walking with him toward the stable. “Do you know, I feel there is something—I have felt all day a kind of dread that—”
“Nonsense, Mandy! You're not that style of girl. Run away into the house.”
But still Mandy waited beside him.
“We've had a great day, Allan,” she said again. “Many great days, and this, one of the best. Whatever comes nothing can take those happy days from us.” She put her arms about his neck and drew him toward her. “I don't know why, Allan, I know it's foolish, but I'm afraid,” she whispered, “I'm afraid.”