Sleep seemed so impossible that he was half inclined to get up and dress
and go out. The cool night air and the freshness of the dawn would be
better than this sleepless unresting. Suddenly there came a sharp little
tap on his window.
A bird, he thought, or a bat.
The tap came again--sharp and imperative.
He got up quietly and went to the window. The night was still dark. As
he peered into it a hand came up again and tapped once more and he
opened the window.
"Mr. Gard!"--in a sharp whisper.
"Nance! What is it, dear? Anything wrong?"
"I want you--quick."
"One minute!" and he hastily threw on his things and joined her outside.
"What is it, Nance?" he asked anxiously, wondering what new complication
had arisen.
"I'll tell you as we go. Come!" and they were speeding noiselessly down
the road to the Coupee.
There she took his hand, as once before, to lead him safely across, and
her hand, he perceived, was trembling violently.
They were half way along the narrow path when the hollow way in front
leading up into Little Sark resounded suddenly with the tramp of heavy
feet.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191