But
Dot Burton slept on in her chair, a faint smile on her face of innocence.
Though she could not have been dreaming in so deep a repose, her last
thought ere she slept must have held happiness. Her serenity lay like a
tender veil upon her.
It was drawing towards evening when Robin suddenly raised his head again
with a deep growl. There came the sound of footsteps through the open
door. The girl stirred and slowly awoke.
She stretched up her arms with a sleepy movement, and then, as voices
reached her, roused herself completely and got to her feet.
Her brother and another man--a tall, lantern-jawed stranger--were on the
point of entering.
Jack led the way. "Halloa, Dot!" he said. "Have you seen anything of our
man? He's broken cover in this direction in spite of us. You haven't shot
him by any chance, I suppose?"
Dot looked from him to the man behind him.
"Inspector Hill," said Jack. "Eh? What's the matter?"
"Nothing--nothing!" said Dot. Yet she had gone back a step as if she had
been struck. She held out her hand to the policeman. "How do you do?
I--I--am very pleased to meet you. So you haven't caught him after all?"
Inspector Hill was looking at her keenly. He wore a sardonic expression,
as of one who knows that he has been outwitted. "I have not, madam,"
he said. "Neither, I presume, have you?"
She shook her head, looking him straight in the face.
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