"The question is too frivolous to deserve an answer," remarked her husband severely.
"But you aren't sorry it's over?" she demanded.
"It isn't over, kid; it's just begun." He smiled at her tenderly. "Your life and mine... isn't it just wonderful?"
And once again the man sauntered past them. But this time he dropped a piece of paper on the path, just at Hugh's feet, and the soldier, with a quick movement which he hardly stopped to analyse, covered it with his shoe. The girl hadn't seen the action; but then, as girls will do after such remarks, she was thinking of other things. Idly Hugh watched the saunterer disappear in the more crowded part of the esplanade, and for a moment there came on to his face a look which, happily for his wife's peace of mind, she failed to notice.
"No," he said, à propos of nothing, "I don't see the gentleman picking oakum. Let's go and eat, and after dinner I'll run you up to the top of the headland…."
With a happy sigh she rose. It was just wonderful! and together they strolled back to their hotel. In his pocket was the piece of paper; and who could be sending him messages in such a manner save one man—a man now awaiting his trial?
In the hall he stayed behind to inquire for letters, and a man nodded to him.
"Heard the news?" he inquired.
"No," said Hugh. "What's happened?"
"That man Peterson and the girl have got away. No trace of 'em." Then he looked at Drummond
