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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."
    This is just another way to goad me, Kate thought grimly, but he was absolutely right.
    Marak tugged back his hood and examined her stunned expression. He watched her cheeks grow pale, her lips bloodless. He grinned in delighted amusement.
    "You imagined all sorts of horrors. But maybe not this one." And he swung back into the saddle and rode away.

Chapter 3
     
    "Mr. Marak brought us home," Emily said from Aunt Celia's arms. "He's so nice, he let me ride his horse, and it was such a beauty, too! We should invite him over to say thank you."
    Aunt Prim knelt before the fire, heating water for tea. Never mind that it had been steamy all day; with the thunderstorms around, the air at the Lodge had turned gusty and chill. Besides, Aunt Prim believed in treating any case of accidental contact with inclement weather as if the victim had just been dragged out of a snowbank.
    "Who's Mr. Marak, dear?" asked Aunt Celia, yawning and smoothing back Emily's tumbled hair. It was one o'clock in the morning, and both aunts had been too frantic to sleep.
    "Oh, you know, Mr. Roberts's cousin. He knows all about you. He said you were a pretty young thing, Aunt Celia, when you first came here."
    "How nice of him to say that, dear," she answered, "but I can't place who he would be."
    Just as Emily opened her mouth to explain, the door slammed loudly. They looked up, startled, to see Kate standing against it, a Kate they had never seen before. It wasn't just that her clothes were damp, filthy, and torn. It wasn't even that her hair straggled wildly about her dirt-smudged face. It was the ghastly color of that face and the glittering eyes full of unshed tears. She stared back at them for afew seconds, her chest heaving as she struggled for breath. Then she burst into loud sobs and collapsed onto the floor.
    "Draw the curtains! Draw the curtains!" was the first thing she managed to say. Emily ran to comply. They hustled her to the couch, pulled off her shoes and stockings, and piled blankets on her, but when Aunt Prim brought her a cup of tea, she could barely hold it, her hands shook so much. She gasped and shivered and alarmed her aunts extremely.
    The worried Prim wrapped Emily in a blanket and made her drink a cup of tea, too. "But, Aunt Prim, there's nothing wrong with me," protested Emily. "I don't know what's wrong with Kate, I really don't. She and Mr.