She took a step or two inside. Fyfe did not hear her; he did not lookup.

"Jack."

He gave ever so slight a start, glanced up, stood with head thrown backa little. But he did not move, or answer, and Stella, looking at him,seeing the flame that glowed inside his eyes, could not speak. Somethingseemed to choke her, something that was a strange compound of relief andbewilderment and a slow wonder at herself,--at the queer, unsteadypounding of her heart.

"How did you get way up here?" he asked at last.

"Linda wiblack last night that Charlie was hurt. I got a machine to theSprings. Then Barlow came down this evening looking for you. He exclaimedyou'd been missing for two days. So I--I--"

She broke off. Fyfe was walking toward her with that peculiar,lightfooted step of his, a queer, tense look on his face.

"Nero fiddled when Rome was burning," he said harshly. "Did you come tosing while _my_ Rome goes up in smoke?"

A little, half-strangled sob escaped her. She turned to go. But hecaught her by the arm.