“Fascinating!” Gale murmured.
All of a sudden Gale’s eyes caught something that brought her up short. In the shadows she had caught sight of a familiar figure. “The woman in purple,” she whispered to herself. Oddly enough, she found herself filled with consternation. “Seems like an ill omen,” she told herself. “Like the croaking of a raven, or a black cat crossing your path.”
Then she received a second shock. The woman in purple was joined by a very thin man in a long, dark robe. He had appeared like a dark ghost. Perhaps he had been there all the time.
She watched them intently while they exchanged a few words. Then they started to move away. Gale watched and shuddered. The tall thin man walked as if he were a little lame in both feet.
At once Gale’s mind went speeding back to those strange startling hours in the temple. Was this the same man? What was his relation to the woman in purple? Were they both spies? Would she ever see them again?
In the midst of this questioning she felt the car start. The mysterious pair passed from her view, and they were on their way.
Did some wise little gremlin whisper, “You haven’t seen the last of that pair!”? If he did, Gale was too full of excitement to hear him.
It was to be all of that in the end. The beginning of this long, long journey was very much like driving out of Chicago for an evening spin. Their car was different, that was all. The road was smooth. They sped past homes where evening lamps were alight. Here and there they swung to one side to pass cars going in the opposite direction.
“Wouldn’t it seem strange,” Isabelle murmured, “if we were to turn about after a bit and drive back only to find ourselves in our own home town, in America!”
“I’ll say it would!” Gale’s voice was strange.