There was an eagerness in her face that told him his
coming relieved her of a terrific suspense.
"I'm sorry I wasn't at the Shack when you came, Miss Kirkstone," he
said, taking for a moment the hand she offered him. "I fancy you were
up there to see me about Shan Tung."
He sent the shot bluntly, straight home. In the tone of his voice there
was no apology. He saw her grow cold, her eyes fixed on him staringly,
as though she not only heard his words but saw what was in his mind.
"Wasn't that it, Miss Kirkstone?"
She nodded affirmatively, but her lips did not move.
"Shan Tung," he repeated. "Miss Kirkstone, what is the trouble? Why
don't you confide in someone, in McDowell, in me, in--"
He was going to say "your brother," but the suddenness with which she
caught his arm cut the words short.
"Shan Tung has been to see him--McDowell?" she questioned excitedly.
"He has been there today? And he told him--" She stopped, breathing
quickly, her fingers tightening on his arm.
"I don't know what passed between them," said Keith. "But McDowell was
tremendously worked up about you. So am I. We might as well be frank,
Miss Kirkstone. There's something rotten in Denmark when two people
like you and Shan Tung mix up.
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