"Jim," he said, "have you seen Miss Van Hoyt?"
"Not since I was at Lenox," I answered. "She must still believe that I
was the man who was murdered in the Rocky Mountains--and I dare not let
her know!"
"She certainly does believe it, Jim," my cousin answered gravely. "She
was here last week--she is coming to see me again to-day."
"In England!" I exclaimed. "Adele in England!"
"Not only that," my cousin continued, "but I believe that her coming was
on your account."
"Tell me exactly what you mean," I demanded.
Gilbert leaned a little towards me.
"Jim," he said, "has there been anything between you and Miss Van Hoyt?"
"This much," I answered, "that but for these confounded happenings, she
would have been my wife. If ever I do marry anybody, it will be she."
Gilbert nodded gravely.
"I thought so," he answered. "Well, I can tell you something that will
perhaps surprise you. Miss Van Hoyt is also--"
He broke off in his sentence. We both sprang to our feet. A woman's clear
musical voice was distinctly audible in the hall outside.
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