Then the galling memory of the predicament in which he stood, the hunt already on his trail, came back to him.

He released her gently, still holding one of her hands.
"But--the police here!" he stammered, turning away.

"What does that mean ?" Dale swiftly informed him of the situation.
"Aunt Cornelia says people have been trying to break into this house for days--at night." Brooks ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of bewilderment.

Then he seemed to catch at a hope.
"What sort of people ?" he queried sharply.
Dale was puzzled.

"She doesn't know." The excitement in her lover's manner came to a head.