Kate tried to puzzle out this strange speech. Another riddle for her to solve. It sounded very important, but she was too tired to make any sense of it. If the walk continued much longer, she was afraid she would collapse. She felt as if she had never done anything else but stumble through blackness.

“And here we are,” concluded Marak. They came up a rise. The orchard trees loomed out at them. Gravel crunched underfoot. And in another minute, there stood the Lodge itself, solid and comforting, with golden light streaming out of all the downstairs windows. The rider swung down from the saddle and lifted Emily to the ground. “Off you go,” he told her. “I stay here.”

“But won’t you come in, Mr. Marak?” begged Emily. “I know the aunts would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I know them,” he answered carelessly. “I remember when they first came here. A pretty young thing the blond was then, I assure you! But newly widowed. That was a real pity,” he added feelingly. “No, I’ll come in another time.”

“Good-bye, then, and thank you for the ride!” Emily wrung his hand and dashed up the path. He turned to Kate, who stood hesitating, almost too tired to walk farther. Now that they were back in the light again, she found his cloak and hood insulting. She could make out nothing about him, and he seemed to know everything about her.

“Kate, you look terrible!” he said sincerely. “You’re completely exhausted. Well, you won tonight, and I’m not a good loser. I’m not used to it. But until next time”—and he held out his six-fingered hand.

Kate shook her head and put her hands behind her back. She glared up at him, beside herself with indignation. She said firmly, “I hate to appear rude—”

“Yes, you do, don’t you.” He laughed. “Oh, I know what’s bothering you,” he teased before she could turn away in disgust. “The cloak and hood. It’s been on your nerves all evening. You’ve been imagining all sorts of horrors, I’d guess.”