The men were part of a search-party, of course,--a posse; and they wanted
to know whether....
"He tried to break in," said Medora Phillips eagerly; "but this
gentleman...."
She turned appreciatively to Cope. Carolyn, really impressed by her well-
sustained seriousness and ardor, almost began to believe that they owed
their lives to Bertram Cope alone.
"Was he a--murderer?" asked Medora.
The men looked serious, but made no categorical reply. They glanced at the
wrecked pantry window, and they looked with more intentness at the long
sliding footprints which led away, down the half-bare sand-slope. Then they
slid down themselves.
Medora asked Carolyn to do what she could toward constructing a lunch and
then walked down to the shore with Cope to compose her nerves. No stroll
today along the ridged amphitheatre of the hills, whence the long, low
range of buildings, under that tall chimney, was so plainly in view. Still
less relishing the idea of a tramp through the woods themselves, the
certain haunt--somewhere--of some skulking desperado. No, they would take
the shore itself--open to the wide firmament, clear of all snares, and free
from every disconcerting sight.
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