ed us," suggested the other. He was a
stunted, wiry little man of thirty-five. His head seemed slightly too
large; he had a pasty face with the sloe-black eyes, button nose, and
the widely chiselled mouth of a circus clown.

The eyes of the short, thickset man were narrow and greyish green in a
round, smoothly shaven face. They narrowed still more as the thunder
broke louder from the west.

Ruhannah, dragging her fish over the grass, was coming toward them;
and the man called Eddie stepped forward to bar her progress.

"Say, girlie," he began, the cigar still tightly screwed into his
cheek, "is there a juice mill anywhere near us, d'y'know?"

"What?" said Rue.

"A garage."

"Yes; there is one at Gayfield."

"How far, girlie?"

Rue flushed, but answered:

"It is half a mile to Gayfield."

The other man, noticing the colour in Ruhannah's face, took off his
pearl-grey hat. His language was less grammatical than his friend's,
but his instincts were better.

"Thank you," he said--his companion staring all the while at the girl
without the slightest expression. "Is there a telephone in any of them
houses, miss?"--glancing around behind him at the three edifices which
composed the crossroads called Brookhollow.

"No," said Rue.

It thundered again; the world around had become very dusky and silent
and the flash veined a rapidly blackening west.

"It's going to rain buckets," said the man called Eddie. "If you live
around here, can you let us come into your house till it's over,
gir--er--miss?"

"Yes."

"I'm Mr. Brandes--Ed Brandes of New York----" speaking through
cigar-clutching teeth. "This is Mr. Ben Stull, of the same.... It's
raining already. Is that your house?"

"I live _there_," said Rue, nodding across the bridge. "You may go
in."

She walked ahead, dragging the fish; Stull went to the car, took two
suitcases from the boot; Brandes threw both overcoats over his arm,
and followed in the wake of Ruhannah and her fish.

"No Saratoga and no races today, Eddie," remarked Stull. But Brandes'
narrow, grey-green eyes were following Ruhannah.

"It's a pity," continued Stull, "somebody didn't learn you to drive a
car before you ask your friends joy-riding."

"Aw--shut up," returned Brandes slowly, between his teeth.

They climbed the flight of steps to the verandah, through a rapidly
thickening gloom which was ripped wide open at intervals by
lightning.

So Brandes and his shadow, Bennie Stull,