opened. We can't afford to wait, no matter what Roxbury says when he
comes. We've just got to be able to forestall even dear old Roxbury.
Come! Don't you see? We must be married at once."

[Illustration: "'I _do_ love you,' she said simply."]

"Dear me," she murmured softly, "what will papa say?"

"My dear Constance, I will explain it all to your father when he gets
back from South America next winter."

It was now raining in torrents. They moved back into the darkest recess
of their shelter, and blissfully looked out upon the drenched universe
with eyes that saw nothing but sweet sunshine and fair weather.

The clattering of horses' hoofs upon the hard mountain road sounded
suddenly above the hiss of the rain-storm. It was quite dark by this
time, night having been hurried on by the lowering skies. A moment
later, three horsemen, drenched to the skin, drew up in front of the
inn, threw their reins over the posts, and dashed for shelter. They came
noisily into the arbour, growling and stamping their soggy feet.

"What, ho!" called one of the newcomers, sticking his head through a
window of the house. Brock and Miss Fowler looked on, amused by the
plight of the riders. Two of them were unquestionably officers of the
police; the third seemed to be an Englishman. They were gruff, burly
fellows, all of them. For a few minutes they stormed and growled about
their miserable luck in being caught in the downpour, ordering schnapps
and brandy in large and instant quantities. At last the Englishman, a
heavy, sour-faced man, turned his gaze in the direction of the lovers,