. . where
was Li Ho? Was he awake--and watching? Had he warned the girl? Or
was she sleeping, weary with the journey, while only one frail old
Chinaman stood between her and a terror too grim to guess . . .
A long interval . . . the sailing moon . . . the swish of parting
water as the launch cut through . . .
"Must be thereabouts now," said the boat-man suddenly. "I'll slow
her down. Keep your eye skinned for the landing."
A period of endless waiting, while the launch crept cautiously along
the rocky shore--then a darker shadow in the shadows and the boat-
man's excited "Got it!" The launch slipped neatly in beside the
float.
"Want any help?" asked the boat-man curiously as his passenger
sprang from the moving launch.
Spence did not hear him. He was already across the sodden planks.
Only the up-trail now lay between him and the end--or the beginning.
The shadows of the trees stretched waving arms. He felt strong as
steel, light as air as he sprang up the wooded path. . . .
It was just as he had pictured it--the cottage in its square of
silver . . . the sailing moon!
But the cottage was empty.
He knew at once that it was empty. He dared not let himself know it.
With a doggedness which defied conviction, he dragged his feet,
suddenly heavy, across the rough grass. The door on the veranda was
open. Why not?--the door of an empty house. . . . He went in.
The moonlight showed the old familiar things, the chinks in the
wall, the rickety table, the couch, the stairway! .
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