Why are you hidden here?
Aren't you coming ?" We both turned, and as she did so a low cry of blank dismay involuntarily escaped her.
Next instant I sprang to my feet.

The reason of her cry was apparent, for there, in the full light of the golden sunset streaming through the long open windows, stood a broad-shouldered, fair-bearded man in tennis flannels and a Panama hat--the fugitive I knew as Philip Hornby! I faced him, speechless..