Presently Boris stopped and pointed with his forefinger. It was moonlight, and in front of them was a stone seat on which sat two figures.
“He is a dog,” said Anthony to himself. “And what’s more, a pointer!”
He strode forward. Boris melted into the shadows.
The two figures rose to meet him. One of them was Virginia—the other—
“Hullo, Joe,” said a well remembered voice. “This is a great girl of yours.”
“Jimmy McGrath, by all that’s wonderful,” cried Anthony. “How in the name of fortune did you get here?”
“That trip of mine into the interior went phut. Then some dagos came monkeying round. Wanted to buy that manuscript off me. Next thing I as near as nothing got a knife in the back one night. That made me think that I’d handed you out a bigger job than I knew. I thought you might need help, and I came along after you by the very next boat.”
“Wasn’t it splendid of him?” said Virginia. She squeezed Jimmy’s arm. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how frightfully nice he was? You are, Jimmy, you’re a perfect dear.”
“You two seem to be getting along all right,” said Anthony.
“Sure thing,” said Jimmy. “I was snooping round for news of you, when I connected with this dame. She wasn’t at all what I thought she’d be—some swell haughty Society lady that’d scare the life out of me.”
“He told me all about the letters,” said Virginia. “And I feel almost ashamed not to have been in real trouble over them when he was such a knight-errant.”