And, dropping the revolver into a pocket in her cloak, "I was
afraid you might be a servant--or even Maitland," she diverted the
subject, with a nod.

"But--but if you recognized me as Anisty, back there by the ford,
didn't you suspect I'd drop in on you--"

"Why, of course! Didn't _you_ all but tell me that you were
coming here?"

"But--"

"I thought _perhaps_ I might get through before you came, Mr.
Anisty; but I knew all the time that, even if you did manage to
surprise me--er--on the job, you wouldn't call in the police." She
laughed confidently, and--oddly enough--at the same time
nervously. "You are certainly a very bold man, and as surely a
very careless one, to run around the way you do without so much as
troubling to grow a beard or a mustache, after your picture has
been published broadcast."

Did he catch a gleam of admiration in the eyes behind the goggles?
"Now, if ever they get hold of _my_ portrait and print it....
Well!" sighed the girl wickedly, lifting slim, bare fingers in
affected concern to the mass of ruddy hair, "in that event I
suppose I shall have to become a natural blonde!"

Her humor, her splendid fearlessness, the lightness of her tone,
combined with the half-laughing, half-serious look that she swept
up at him, to ease the tension of his emotions. For the first time