lon, "for Burton was no kind of a
fellow for me to worry about; things will go much better without him."

"But," and she looked at him, steadfastly, "if that is the case, then I
should be much happier as it is. So why should you worry and grow pale
and not be able to sit quietly and talk to me?"

He was about to begin some sort of an answer to this; at the moment he
was standing in a position which gave him a view of the street through
one of the windows. His glance wandered in that direction, his mind
occupied in forming a set of phrases which would be sufficiently
evasive. But suddenly the gaze became fixed. A man stood upon the
opposite side of the street looking toward Nora's house; the street
lights were in his face and gleamed upon a pair of large metal-rimmed
spectacles; one hand was furtively gesturing as though in signals to
some one down below. The man was the Swiss, Bohlmier.

CHAPTER XVIII

NORA GOES TO STANWICK

Through the upheaving in his mind, Bat Scanlon managed to squeeze a
reply to Nora's question which held some traces of plausibility.

"A fellow always feels upset by things like this," said he. "Most of the
time there is no reason for it, but that seems to make no difference. He
feels that way just the same."

He left the window and returned to his chair. There had been many things
in his mind when he resolved to pay this visit, things which were direct
and the answers to which must be illuminating. But they were all gone
now. Her attitude, her words, had made them impossible. They talked of
many things during the next half hour--that is, Nora talked. What
Scanlon said he could never afterward remember. But there was one thing
which always brought the fact of the conversation sharply to his
mind--and that was his conjectures as to the man in the street below.
Why was he there? and to whom was he signaling?

These thoughts finally became so insistent that Bat arose.

"I must be going," he said, rather lamely. "There are a few things I
must do to-night."

"Oh, and I thought you'd come for a nice long visit," she said. Her tone
was reproachful; but at the same time Scanlon could not help but notice
that the glance which she gave the briskly ticking clock was one of
relief.

He stood looking down at her; finally her eyes lifted to his and the
expression she met was very grave and very honest.

"Nora," said he, "I've always been for you. You know that, don't you?
And I always will