John Engle replied, speaking crisply. But just what he said Virginia
did not know. For suddenly her whole attention was withdrawn from the
conversation, fixed and held by something moving in the patio. First
she had noted a slight change in Rod Norton's eyes, saw them grow keen
and watchful, noted that they had turned toward the door opening into
the little court where the fountain was, where the wall-lamp threw its
rays wanly among the shrubs and through the grape-arbor. He had seen
something move out there; from where she sat she could look the way he
looked and mark how a clump of rose-bushes had been disturbed and now
stood motionless again in the quiet night.
Wondering, she looked again to Norton. His eyes told nothing now save
that they were keen and watchful. Whether or not he knew what it was
so guardedly stirring in the patio, whether he, like herself, had
merely seen the gently agitated leaves of the bushes, she could not
guess. She started when Engle addressed some trifling remark to her;
while she evaded the direct answer she was fully conscious of the
sheriff's eyes steady upon her. He, no doubt, was wondering what she
had seen.
It was only a moment later when Norton rose and went to Mrs. Engle,
telling her briefly that he had had a day of it, in the saddle since
dawn, wishing her good night.
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