"Here lies the body of Pendleton Broome, beloved son of Pendleton Broome and Mary Camalier. Who departed this life..." "Shut up!" growled Delehanty. To Pen he said: "Look here, I want a straight answer. What are you doing here?" "I always come here when I wish to be alone," said Pen with delicate emphasis. "Hah! ... Mitchell!" He conferred with one of his men. Pen still blinded by their lights could not see what was going on. A man edged around behind her. Delehanty who had put away his light was busy with something in his hands. "Now!" he said abruptly. Pen's arms were suddenly pinned to her sides. As she opened her mouth to protest Delehanty pressed his twisted handkerchief between her teeth. Pen struggled furiously, but it was pulled tight and knotted behind her head. Delehanty growled to his men: "Get back in your places. She's evidently got a date with him here. He'll be here yet. If you let him slip through your fingers, by Gad! I'll have you all broken." Pen hearing this, ceased to struggle, and smiled behind the gag. "Well ... let them!" she thought. "It's all to the good!" Delehanty said to her: "March! young lady!" Pen, just to keep up appearances, moaned behind the gag, and hung back. Delehanty pushed her ahead of him in the path. "Get along back to the house with you!" he commanded. Pen made no further objections. He accompanied her back to the house. Reaching the porch he took off the gag. "Thank you," said Pen demurely. "Get inside," he said. "You won't be feeling so flip in the morning." He strode back towards the gates. But there was no certainty in his carriage. He suspected he had been fooled. Pen all but laughed aloud. Pen scampered across the porch, and into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. All her being hung on the agonizing question: was he there? She ran back through the hall into the kitchen. In the dark depths of the house her hands served her for eyes. She knew it so well. Her hand went unerringly to the knob of the door that gave on the cellar stairs. She ran down. At the foot of the stairs an agony of apprehension constricted her throat. She could not speak aloud. "Don!" she gasped. From out of the dark came the answering whisper: "Pen!" In the ecstasy of relief that flooded her Pen lost her grip on reality for a moment. Her knees gave under her. She sank down in a heap on the earthen floor. Don sought all around for her in the dark. "Pen! Pen!" he whispered urgently. He stumbled against her. He gathered her up and held her against him. She clung around his neck in a sort of desperation. But the warmth of him, the ripple of muscle under his cotton shirt, the strong rise of his breast against hers all seemed to pour a new life into her. He was very real! "Oh, my darling!" she whispered ... "Oh Heavens, what a day!" "Something has happened?" he said. In her relief she felt a little light-headed. "A few things!" she giggled. "Tell me."