in Philadelphia just now, but as soon as he heard the news this morning, he decreed that we should come here at once—both of us. And you may be sure that I raised no objection."
The admiring look that accompanied this speech gave a lead that Dorothy followed almost unconsciously, so accustomed was she to this sort of thing.
"I'm glad you didn't object too strongly," she answered, and the swift rise and fall of her long lashes added a deeper meaning to the words than they possessed. Indeed, they didn't possess any, and Dorothy was really thinking of something else at the time, but this was her way with a man.
"Does that mean you're glad I'm here? Oh, Dorothy, let it mean that! Please do!"
Dorothy looked at him provokingly, tantalizingly. "Of course I'm glad you're here. You and Mr. Gale will help us find Justin, won't you?"
"Do leave Justin out for a moment, and think only of me."
"I will—for a moment." Dorothy leaned against the vine-clad pillar and gazed intently at the young man. There was a mocking smile in her eyes that irritated, while it fascinated, him.
He returned her gaze steadily, and said in low, tense tones, "You think it's just for a moment, don't you? Well, you're going to look at me like that for the rest of your life!"
Dorothy burst into a merry laugh. Accustomed though she was to admiration, and even to sudden proposals, this calm announcement of Crosby's seemed the most audacious thing she had ever heard.
"Guess again," she said saucily. "As soon as you find Justin for me, I shall reserve all my gazes for him, and for him only."
"But suppose," began Crosby, speaking slowly and very seriously—"suppose Justin—"
"I know what you're going to say: suppose Justin never comes back? I have begun to suppose that. I can't help it. It's very mysterious, but it must be that something has happened to him. What could it be, Mr. Crosby?"
"How should I know? He was all right when I left here yesterday. But, Dorothy, listen to me a moment. If he should never return, if you are freed from him forever, won't you let me—"
Dorothy interrupted him a little sharply. "Don't talk like that, Mr. Crosby. This is no time for such a subject."
"But the time will come, and I can wait, my beautiful Dorothy!"
Campbell Crosby was a tall man, of fine physique and bearing. And as he stood calmly looking down at little Dorothy, he gave an impression of splendid power, and the girl looked at him with a new admiration. She liked a masterful man, and, though she had never taken any special interest in Campbell Crosby, she suddenly realized that he was a worthwhile man. But then the thought of Ernest Chapin returned to her, and she knew that, compared to him, all other men were as nothing to her.
"Campbell," she said, sending a thrill through him as he heard her pronounce his name, "you mustn't talk to me like that. I forbid it!"
But as the forbidding was accompanied by a snowflake of a hand laid lightly on his arm, it wasn't absolutely successful.
Crosby laid his own hand over hers. "Well, haven't I just said I won't? Or, at least,—that I will wait. Now, how do you want me to talk to you?"
"Oh, any way, just to pass the time till the others come down."
"And I'm simply a stop-gap, am I! Very well, I'm content; but I warn you I shall make the most of my time!"
"What are you going to do?" and Dorothy looked at him provokingly.
"Hold your hand, for one thing," and Crosby clasped it in both of his. "And then, if I can get a real good chance, when no one is looking I—may—kiss—"
"Mr. Crosby!"
"—may kiss your finger tips," went on Crosby, calmly.
"Oh!" and naughty Dorothy looked purposely disappointed. She smiled at him, and the red lips so near his own, and the soft faint perfume of her hair made his senses reel, and catching her in his arms he kissed her madly, and then held her off at arms' length. "There!" he said, lightly, "that's what little girls get when they come too near!"
"Was I too near?" and Dorothy put up the face of a rebuked cherub.
"Dorothy, stop! I can't stand it! Have you no mercy, child? But some day, you shall be all my very own! You say this is no time to tell you this, and so I will wait; but, the time will come, my little love. When,—when Justin returns, I shall tell him you are mine,—not his!"
"Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Crosby," and Dorothy shrugged her dimpled shoulders as she turned away. "A lady's consent is thought to be necessary to such an arrangement."
"Not for me," and Crosby smiled gaily; "I'm a Cave Man, and I shall carry off the lady I want, regardless of her wishes."
Crosby stood with folded arms, looking very big and handsome. Of magnificent physique, and in splendid condition, he seemed quite capable of picking up a maiden and running away with her.
The idea amused Dorothy. "When Cave Men carry off little girls," she said, "do they throw them over their shoulders,—or just grabble them up under their arms?"
Crosby considered. "There are various technical methods," he said; "if it's a very big man and a very little girl, as in this case, he just—well, I'll show you—"
"No, don't!" cried Dorothy; "here comes Mrs. Crane!"
"Some other time, then," murmured Crosby, and turned to greet Mabel.
"I'm so glad you came, dear," said Dorothy; "I've entertained Mr. Crosby to the very limit of my powers. He's bored to death with me; so you take him in charge while I run and play with Mr. Gale. Hello, Emory! Here's me!"
Others came then, and soon there were several groups, all trying to avoid the subject of Arnold's disappearance, but all coming back to it sooner or later.
Mabel Crane did not hesitate. "Mr. Crosby," she said, at once, "they tell me you know all about this place. Now I want to ask you something. Is there any secret passage of any kind in this old house?"
"Secret passage! What do you mean?"
"Why, I'm determined to find Justin, myself, if possible. Now, they all say he couldn't have gotten out of this house last night. But if there is a secret passage that no one knows about, of course he could have gone out that way. And they said that you would know if there was one."
"Who said that?" asked Crosby.
"Why, I don't know—Miss Wadsworth, I think. At any rate, they all agreed that if any such thing exists, you would be likely to know about it."
"Of course I should. I know every nook and corner of this house, both the old original structure and the modern additions. You see, I always spent my summers here as a boy, and Justin and I were everlastingly exploring the place. No, there is no secret passage. Those things are built in mediaeval castles, or sometimes in old English mansions, but I fancy there are not many in America. At any rate, there are no sliding panels or staircases in the wall at White Birches. Of that I'm positive."
"I thought there couldn't be," said Mabel, "or we should have heard of it before.
