Eve, crouched on the sand, trying to wring out and twist up her drenched hair, looked up at Stormont as he came toward her holding out Darragh's dry clothing. "You'd better do what you can with these," he said, trying to speak carelessly.... "_He_ says you'd better chuck--what you're wearing----" She nodded in flushed comprehension. Stormont walked back to his horse, his boots slopping water at every stride. "I don't know any place nearer than Ghost Lake Inn," he said ... "except Harrod's." "That's where we're going, Jack," said Darragh cheerfully. "That's _your_ place, isn't it?" "It is. But I don't want Eve to know it.... I think it better she should not know me except as Hal Smith--for the present, anyway. You'll see to that, won't you?" "As you wish, Jim.... Only, if we go to your own house----" "We're not going to the main house. She wouldn't, anyway. Clinch has taught that girl to hate the very name of Harrod--hate every foot of forest that the Harrod game keepers patrol. She wouldn't cross my threshold to save her life." "I don't understand, but--it's all right--whatever _you_ say, Jim." "I'll tell you the whole business some day. But where I'm going to take you now is into a brand new camp which I ordered built last spring. It's within a mile of the State Forest border. Eve won't know that it's Harrod property. I've a hatchery there and the State lets me have a man in exchange for free fry. When I get there I'll post my man.... It will be a roof for to-night, anyway, and breakfast in the morning, whenever you're ready." "How far is it?" "Only about three miles east of here." "That's the thing to do, then," said Stormont bluntly. He dropped one sopping-wet sleeve over his horse's neck, taking care not to touch the saddle. He was thinking of the handful of gems in his pocket; and he wondered why Darragh had said nothing about the empty case for which he had so recklessly risked his life. What this whole business was about Stormont had no notion. But he knew Darragh. That was sufficient to leave him tranquil, and perfectly certain that whatever Darragh was doing must be the right thing to do. Yet--Eve had swum Star Pond with her mouth filled with jewels. When she had handed the morocco box to Quintana, Stormont now realised that she must have played her last card on the utterly desperate chance that Quintana might go away without examining the case. Evidently she had emptied the case before she left her room. He recollected that, during all that followed, Eve had not uttered a single word. He knew why, now. How could she speak with her mouth full of diamonds? A slight sound from the shore caused him to turn. Eve was coming toward him in the dusk, moving painfully on her wounded feet. Darragh's flannel shirt and his hunting coat buttoned around her slender waist clothed her. The next instant he was beside her, lifting her in both arms.