He sat down on the Tavern steps and watched her as she swung off down the road. To his utter amazement, when she reached a point several hundred yards below the Tavern, she left the highway and, gathering up her skirts, climbed over the fence into the narrow meadow-land that formed a frontage at the bottom of the Curtis estate. A few minutes later she disappeared among the trees at the base of the mountain, going in the direction of Green Fancy. He had followed her with his gaze all the way across that narrow strip of pasture. When she came to the edge of the forest, she stopped and looked back at the Tavern. Seeing him still on the steps, she waved her hand at him. Then she was gone.
"Where ignorance is bliss," he muttered to himself, and then looked at his watch. Ten minutes later he was in Sprouse's room, calling for Green Fancy over an extension wire that had cost the company nothing and yielded nothing in return. After some delay, O'Dowd's mellow voice sang out: "Hello! How are you this morning?"
"Grievously lonesome," replied Barnes, and wound up a doleful account of himself by imploring O'Dowd to save his life by bringing the entire Green Fancy party over to dinner that night.
O'Dowd was heart-broken. Personally he would go to any extreme to save so valuable a life, but as for the rest of the party, they begged him to say they were sorry to hear of the expected death of so promising a chap and that, while they couldn't come to his party, they would be delighted to come to his funeral. In short, it would be impossible for them to accept his kind invitation. The Irishman was so gay and good- humoured that Barnes took hope.
"By the way, O'Dowd, I'd like to speak with Miss Cameron if she can come to the telephone."
There was a moment of silence. Then: "Call up at twelve o'clock and ask for me. Good-bye."
Promptly on the stroke of twelve Barnes took down the receiver and called for Green Fancy. O'Dowd answered almost immediately.
"I warned you last night, Barnes," he said without preamble. "I told you to keep out of this. You may not understand the situation and I cannot enlighten you, but I will say this much: no harm can come to her while I'm here and alive."
"Can't she come to the telephone?"
"Won't ye take my word for it? I swear by all that's holy that she'll be safe while I've--"
Barnes was cautious. This might be the clever O'Dowd's way of trapping him into serious admissions.