"No; nor till this morning. But that's not denying there might be some one in London who knew it."
"Then there's Resurrection Rock."
"To which the same applies," he said.
"But that couldn't apply to me, Mr. Loutrelle. No one in London in December could have known I was to go to St. Florentin. I didn't know it myself, then."
"But you often came; some one might know that."
"Yes; but our meeting this morning—"
"Was a coincidence, of course, Miss Carew. But I've been thinking a good deal about it, too. Against it, there's one wild shot, anyway. There's no Bagley about."
"No."
"Well, what do you think?"
She made no immediate answer but gazed down at the letter which she reread before returning it to him. "What do you suppose it means; 'Tell Bagley you're Dick and you'll take things over'?" she asked at last.
"I thought 'Dick' might be my real name. I just had the name Barney from Noah Jo. I took Loutrelle for myself from a man I liked when I started high school."
He put his letter away and proceeded for several moments in silence. They were climbing a slightly higher and steeper hillside than any they had yet encountered in that rolling forest land; and the surface of the snow showed the fresh imprint of snowshoes distinct from the scratches of Asa Redbird's trail. Where these new footprints had come in, neither Ethel nor Loutrelle had noticed. Glancing back, they observed the marks as far back as they could see.
