Eve laughed. "We might go down to the Inn and inquire about Hamish," she suggested. "After his frightful experience he may be in a state of collapse."
We found Hattie May on the veranda at Wildwood Lodge, waiting, she told us, for Hamish to come out of the barber shop of the hotel next door. "I sent him to get a shampoo," she said, "his hair was such a mess."
"How is he feeling?" I inquired. "Fully recovered, I hope."
"Oh, yes, he's all right--physically, that is!"
"Well, I just mean that he's still acting kind of preoccupied."
"It's the shock," Eve said. "Really you can't be surprised."
Hattie May shook her head. "There's something he wants to do," she said, "but he won't tell me what it is. But he's determined to go back to that terrible place again right away!"
"What! Go back to Craven House? Gracious, I should think he'd never want to see the place again!"
"I know. But he insists there's something he's got to see about. He says he was so hungry this morning that he couldn't attend to it. That's why I'm watching the door of the hotel, to be sure he doesn't get away again without me!"
We sat down to wait. And it was not long before we saw the figure of Hamish emerge from the hotel. He cast a furtive glance in the direction of the Lodge and then, in response to his sister's frantic summons, came slowly down the steps toward us. "What kept you so long?" Hattie May inquired sharply.
"Oh, I thought I'd have the whole works while I was about it," he said. "Turkish bath, shampoo, oil treatment, face steamin' and manicure!"
"Heavens, no wonder you look like a boiled rabbit!"
Hamish took out his watch. "Well, I got to be gettin' along," he said with an attempt at casualness. "So long, I'll be seein' you."
As her brother's form disappeared around the corner of the building, Hattie May got up. "Come on," she whispered, and tiptoed down the steps. In single file we passed around the veranda and, keeping well under cover of the various barns and garages in the rear, came presently to the main road, just across which are the row of tin garages in one of which Hamish kept his car. He was just unlocking the door when he looked around and saw us. "What's the big idea?" he inquired ungraciously.