Above and below the forest hung gloomily, and
passing clouds darkened the slopes and occasionally spilled rain.
Armitage drew on his cloak and Oscar enveloped himself in a slicker as
they rode through a sharp shower. At a lower level they came into fair
weather again, and, crossing a bridge, rode down into Storm Valley. The
road at once bore marks of care; and they passed a number of traps that
spoke unmistakably of cities, and riders whose mounts knew well the
bridle-paths of Central Park. The hotel loomed massively before them, and
beyond were handsome estates and ambitious mansions scattered through the
valley and on the lower slopes.
Armitage paused in a clump of trees and dismounted.
"You will stay here until I come back. And remember that we don't know
any one; and at our time of life, Oscar, one should be wary of making new
acquaintances."
He tossed his cloak over the saddle and walked toward the inn. The size
of the place and the great number of people going and coming surprised
him, but in the numbers he saw his own security, and he walked boldly up
the steps of the main hotel entrance.
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