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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that cañon road after dark." "Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes." With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an immense racing-car stopped at the gate below.
The powerful headlight shot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly from the vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottom step of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In the radiance of the porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger.
Did the lady drop this? I found it in the grass when I went back to hunt for my key-ring. It was right where she stood." He held forth his hand, and there dropped from his fingers a slender white, gleaming thing. Allison flashed on the porch-light, and looked at it. "Leslie, is this yours?"
Involuntarily Varney shrank back into the shadows, assuming by instinct the best conspirators' style, and glued his eyes upon the impelling sight. Not that the girl herself was peculiarly fascinating to the eye. The porch-light revealed her perfectly: a small, dark, nondescript child, not above thirteen years old, rather badly dressed and, to say truth, not attractive-looking in any way.
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