THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
clairvoyance. "What brought you back?"—confident that she knew.
"How's the baby?" countered Armitage.
"Baby? Why, the baby is twelve, and doing his bit at a military school. Some boy, Jim. If you turn out to be half as fine a man as he is—" Burlingham slapped his boyhood friend on the shoulder. "But what brought you back?"
"Fate," said Armitage, soberly. "But I thought it was this." He took out the clipping and handed it to Betty.
Now that he was safely at anchor in a most congenial harbor, he became aware of a strange, indescribable exhilaration. A superficial analysis convinced him that it was not due to the propinquity of these old friends of his; rather the cause lay over there in the dark, beyond the shadows. Over and above this, he was in a quandary. How much should he tell of this tomfool exploit of his? Just enough to whet their curiosity, or just nothing at all? Sooner or later, though. Bob, who was a persistent chap, would be asking about Durston's grille.
Would she notify the police? He wasn't
24
