He bowed, waiting for something more from me; so I presented my
credentials.

His formal manner changed at once. "Come over here and let us talk a
bit," he said, cordially--then hesitated, glancing at Miss
Barrison--"if your wife would excuse us--"

The pretty stenographer colored, and I dryly set Mr. Rowan
right--which appeared to disturb him more than his mistake.

"Pardon me, Mr. Gilland, but you do not propose to take this young
girl into the Everglades, do you?"

"That's what I had proposed to do," I said, brusquely.

Perfectly aware that I resented his inquiry, he cast a perplexed and
troubled glance at her, then slowly led the way to a great block of
sun-warmed coquina, where he sat down, motioning me to do the same.

"I see," he said, "that you don't know just where you are going or
just what you are expected to do."

"No, I don't," I said.

"Well, I'll tell you, then. You are going into the devil's own country
to look for something that I fled five hundred miles to avoid."

"Is that so?" I said, uneasily.