Rock Lake! When I had driven over there with my friends, we
had taken luncheon at the inn and returned in the afternoon. And
what did they know of Rock Lake? Who had told them of it? That
officious Barker, of course.
"Will you leave a message, sir?" said the maid, who, of
course, did not know me.
"No," said I, and as I still stood gazing at the piazza
floor, she remarked that if I wished to call again she would go
out and speak to the coachman and ask him if anything had been
said to him about the time of the party's return.
Worse and worse! Their coachman had not driven them! Some
one who knew the country had been their companion. They were not
acquainted in the neighborhood, and there could not be a shadow
of a doubt that it was that obtrusive Barker who had
indecently thrust himself upon them on the very next day
after their arrival, and had thus snatched from me this last
interview upon which I had counted so earnestly.
I had no right to ask any more questions. I left no message
nor any name, and I had no excuse for saying I would call again.
I got back to my hotel without having met any one whom I
knew, and that night I received a note from Barker, stating that
he had fully intended coming to the steamer to see me off, but
that an engagement would prevent him. He sent, however, his best
good wishes for my safe passage, and assured me that he would
keep me fully informed of the state of my affairs on this side.
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