that her secret
remained unrevealed.

"I haven't the faintest notion of Roddy's whereabouts," she said, "and
if he is lost out in this storm, perhaps drowned in one of the kloofs,
yours will be the blame, and I will see you are brought to book for
it." She spoke with the utmost malice and satisfaction. "Now, get out
of my room!"

Christine went. Indeed, she was convinced that for once the woman
spoke truth and that Roddy was not there or anywhere in the house. It
was out-of-doors that she must seek him. So back to her room on winged
feet to get a waterproof and make her way from the house. For once,
the front door was barred! Outside, the rain had ceased as suddenly as
it had burst from the heavens. Only the wind swished and howled wildly
among the trees, tearing up handfuls of gravel to fling against the
doors and windows. Afar off was a roaring sound new to her, that,
later, she discovered to be the rushing waters in the kloofs that were
tearing tumultuously to swell the river a few miles off. Clouds had
blotted out moon and stars. All the light there was came
intermittently from whip-like lightning flashes across the sky. It
helped Christine a little as she stumbled through the darkness, crying
out Roddy's name, but she found herself often colliding with trees, and
prickly-pear bushes seemed to be rushing hither and thither, waving
fantastic arms and clutching for her as she passed. The idea had come
to her suddenly to seek Andrew McNeil and ask for his help. He was the
only friendly soul of all those on the farm that she could turn to.
True, another face presented itself to her mind for one moment, but she
banished it with scorn, despising herself for even thinking of Dick
Saltire.

She fancied that McNeil lodged at the storekeeper's place, and set
herself to find the route she had taken that afternoon--no easy task in
the darkness that surrounded her. But at last she saw a twinkle of
light, and, approaching closer, found that, by great good luck, she had
indeed happened on the store. The door stood open, and she could see
the man behind the counter talking to McNeil, who, seated on an
upturned case, was smoking peacefully. Someone else was there
too--someone whose straight back and gallant air was very familiar to
her. Saltire was buying tobacco from the storekeeper. But Christine
had no word for him. She went straight to McNeil with her story.

"Roddy is lost!" she cried. "You must please