that he was
watching her. And then he spoke to her. It was one morning when she had
gone out alone to buy some picture postcards. She stopped to look in a
shop window, and when she turned, there at her elbow stood the man in
blue overalls.

"Wait a minute," he said, in a strained, muffled voice, as she started
to walk on. "Do you want news of your uncle?"

"Of course I do," she answered in surprise.

"I can give you news. Walk this afternoon to the bridge beyond the shop
where you buy lollipops. Tell no one what I say. No one. If you do, some
great harm will come to your uncle. Will you come?--alone?"

"If I can."

"If you do not, you may never hear of your uncle again. Never."

"Who are you? Do you know Uncle Carey? Tell me--"

"Not now. Not here," he said hurriedly, glancing at the people coming
and going on the street. "This afternoon. Will you come?"

"Yes."

"Tell no one. Promise."

"I promise."

He hurried away, and Anne stood quite still, with a strange, bewildering
fear at her heart. Then she turned--picture postcards had lost all their
charm--and went back to the hotel.

CHAPTER VII

That afternoon Pat went sight-seeing with a new-made friend, Darrell
Connor, and his father. While Anne was hesitating to ask permission to
go out, fearing to be refused or questioned, the matter was settled in
the simplest possible way. Miss Drayton coaxed her sister to lie down on
the couch in the pleasant sitting-room.

"I will draw the curtains," she said; "perhaps if it be dark and quiet,
you will fall asleep. Anne, you may sit in your bedroom or take your
doll for a walk."

"Honey-Sweet and her little mother look as if they needed fresh air,"
said Mrs. Patterson, smiling faintly.

Excited and vaguely troubled, but walking straight with head erect, Anne
went to the bridge. Against the railing leaned a familiar figure in
blue overalls and slouch hat. No one else was near. The man turned.

"Nancy pet--" it was her uncle's name for her and it was her uncle's
voice that spoke. "Those people are good to you? They will take care of
you till--while you are alone?"

"Uncle Carey, Uncle Carey! It _is_ you!"

"Yes, it is I. Don't come nearer, dear. Stand by the railing with
your doll. Don't speak till those people pass. Now listen, little
Anne. I am hiding from men who want to put me in prison. I can't
tell you about it. Some day you will know. Oh, Lord! some day you must
know all. Think of Uncle Carey