“Petit Père! Oh, please wake up!”
“Miss Helga,” began Dick, thrusting out his head.
“Oh, Dr. Colton, I’ve—I’ve had such a dreadful dream again. I want to speak to Mr. Haynes.”
“He started for the beach fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh-h-h!” It was a long, shuddering gasp. The next instant he heard her swift footsteps patter downstairs, through the living-room and out upon the porch. A few minutes later Everard Colton in trousers and shirt came into the room.
“Was that Helga’s voice I heard?”
“Yes.”
“Anything wrong?” asked the young man anxiously.
“Haynes has gone to the beach, and she has followed. She’s had a dream-warning or some fool thing”—Colton had the professional impatience of the supernatural—“and would be hysterical if she was of that type.”
Everard exploded into a curse. “And you let her go alone?”