"
"Has Miss Martin promised to meet us?" inquired the other, feeling that
he was on the track of _volte face_.
"No. But there she is!" cried Winter. "She has just heard the car.
Tell your chauffeur to slow up. The road is empty otherwise. By the
way, you help her in. She might be a bit shy of me, and I don't want a
second's delay."
Winter's judgment was not at fault. Doris _was_ feeling a trifle
uncertain, seeing that she was about to encounter a complete stranger.
Moreover, she had come a good half mile from the shop whence the cakes
for tea were to be procured at the back door, and as a favor. Her eyes
were fixed on the slowing car with a timid anxiety that betrayed no
small degree of doubt as to the outcome of this Sunday afternoon
escapade. She was pale and nervous. At that moment Doris wished herself
safe at home again.
"One word," broke in the superintendent hurriedly. "Why are you so sure
that Grant is innocent, Mr. Winter?"
"I'm sure of nothing with regard to this case. But I have great faith in
Furneaux's flair for the true scent. It has never failed yet."
Mr. Fowler wished his companion would not use such uncommon words.
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