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Updated: May 15, 2025
But Harry did not drive towards Westbury farther than the first crossroads. Instead, he swerved out across country towards Windywild, the great McCallan estate. Only a vague purpose moved him. His suspicions were groping. But he was forming dimly in his mind a plan to keep Pauline away from the McCallan wedding. Premonition whispered that even among the nuptial gayeties there might be danger.
Owen, who was not averse to physical effort when his dearest object was at stake, walked the half mile to Windywild rapidly. Unlike Harry's, Owen's plans were definite and fixed. He strode through the front gate but took his way immediately to the stable in front of which two grooms were currying a restless horse. "Hello, Simon," said Owen. "My car has broken down up the road here.
On the crest of Winton's Hill, from which the road slopes down to beautiful Windywild through parked forests, but from which the rambling white villa, with its barns and garage can be seen in striking bird's-eye view, Harry stopped his machine. To his far vision there was no unusual stir about the McCallan house, in spite of the wedding day.
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