CHAPTER IX.
A SKIRMISH WITH DEATH It was a soft, misty day when Trenby called to drive Nan over to the Trevithick Kennels--one of those veiled mornings which break about noon into a glory of blue sky and golden sunlight.
As she stepped into the waiting car, Roger stopped her abruptly.
"Go back and put on something thicker," he commanded.

"It'll be chilly driving in this mist." "But it's going to be hot later on," protested Nan.
"Yes, only it happens to be now that we're driving--and it will be cool again, in the evening when I bring you back." Nan laughed.
"Nonsense!" she said and put her foot on the step of the car.

Trenby, standing by to help her in, closed his hand firmly round her arm and held her back.

His hawk's eyes flashed a little.
"I shan't take you unless you do as I say," he observed.
She stared at him in astonishment.

Then she turned away as though to re-enter the house.
"Oh, very well," she replied airily.
Roger bit his lip, then followed her rapidly.