"I'm being clandestine again. Merry is coming here to meet me. Can you find us a quiet corner where we can talk?"
Christopher suggested the big pantry off the kitchen. "You can watch your chance and slip through the swinging door. I'll have one of the men keep an eye out for Mr. Meriweather."
Having executed this maneuver with success, Sally found herself presently in a small, square room with shelves along the sides on which were great china platters, covered silver dishes, and copper casseroles. There was another swinging door which led to the serving room where Christopher carved the meats. The place was secluded and cozy, with the driving rain making a gray curtain for the window, and a low-hung lamp bringing out the high lights on the silver and copper and showing the gay-colored designs on the china platters.
When Merry was ushered in by Christopher, and the big man had departed, Sally said:
"What did you think when you got my telegram?"
"I didn't stop to think. I came."
"After I had sent it, I was scared stiff."
"You needn't have been. I was coming anyhow. I had my bag packed. But why all this mystery, Sally? Meeting me like this? Not that I don't like it. I do. I feel like the hero of a swashbuckling novel. Riding post-haste through the rain!"
He laughed and drew out a chair for her at the small table which Christopher had set for them. "It is rather an adventure, little Sally."
Something in his voice made her turn and look up
