Mystery of the Inn by the Shore by Florence Warden

For some distance on the road to Stroan the delicious glow cast upon him by this stimulating conversation lasted and made Clifford as happy as a bird.

But when the irregular outline of the old-fashioned town grew more defined under the September sky, and the meeting with Jordan and Conybeare grew nearer, he had to concern himself with the manner in which he should get out of the difficulties which his stay under the roof of the Blue Lion had brought upon him.

What had they heard and what would they believe?

He had not to ask himself these questions long, for before he reached the town he came upon Jordan with an easel, a sketch-book and a pipe, and Conybeare with a strapful of books and a white umbrella.

Their demeanor was not kindly toward the errant Clifford. A garbled version of the story of the robbery had, indeed, reached them already, and they had both made up their minds that Nell was the thief. Willie Jordan, of course, was the more inclined to this view from his resentment at having been "cut out" by Clifford, who, on his side, was reticent and entirely silent on the subject of the sudden infatuation which had led him to propose marriage to the girl.

Very soon the subject of the Blue Lion and its inhabitants was tacitly tabooed among the friends, and it was not until ten days later that any of them found their way to the little inn by the shore.

When they did so, however, they were disappointed in the object of their visit. Nell was never to be seen, and not one of the three young men ever dared to ask for her, as George Claris, looking upon them apparently as fellow-conspirators against the fair fame of his house, was curt to the verge of rudeness to them all.

Now this invisibility on the part of Nell, far from cooling Clifford's quickly sprung-up passion, served only to inflame it further. But it was in vain he wrote -- in vain he hung about the neighborhood. Although on two or three occasions he caught sight of her, she always disappeared before he could come near.

The last day of the stay of the three friends arrived, and they made one despairing attempt to bid her good-by. Clifford had preserved his reticence concerning the girl, but the other two more than suspected him. Willie had softened in his views of the mysterious affair, and it was now only Conybeare who persisted in a harsh judgment of the innkeeper's niece.

She was just the sort of girl, he said, to attract young fools and make them lose their wits and their money. He, however, was as anxious for a farewell peep at the mysterious beauty as his companions.

This time they were fortunate. When they had gone past the inn, they caught sight of the pretty figure whom they all had in their thoughts, and they all pretended to view it with indifference. Willie was the first to break down in this assumption.

"There she is! " he said, in quite a tremulous voice. "It's no use pretending we don't see her. Do you think she'll run away if we get over the fence?"

Clifford had already made the experiment.

To the great relief of the whole party, Nell turned slowly and waited for their approach without a smile, with, indeed, a sort of quiet defiance.

"I suppose," she said to Clifford, as soon as he came up, "you have come to say good-by, you and your friends, before you go back to town?"

She had remembered the date he had given her for that event, then. This was a ray of consolation, but she gave him no other. She was cold, reserved, almost hard. He felt so angry with her for her contemptuous disregard of his feelings that he thought for the moment that his passion was extinguished by it. However, she unbent so far as to invite them all in to tea, and the three young men were much puzzled as to which of them it was who had procured them this favor. Conybeare seemed to be, on the whole, the one to whom she talked the most; Clifford was, without any doubt, the one of whom she took the least notice.

The meal, on the whole, was a pleasant one, although Claris himself was more taciturn than he had been on that unlucky day when he and Nell and Clifford had spent such a merry hour in the little sitting-room.

Now the weather had changed; the autumn winds were whistling about the little inn, and the blue sea had become a dark-gray line, flecked with white crests. There was a fire in the little grate, and it was when Otto Conybeare moved quickly forward to poke it for Nell that the incident occurred which was to throw a shadow over the meeting.

In passing a side-table upon which stood a wicker work-basket, Otto dragged the cloth off, and brought the basket and all the rest of the things on the table with a crash to the floor. Willie, who was near him, went down on his knees with apologies for Otto's clumsiness.

"He thinks it's manly, you know, to show a contemptuous indifference to such feminine trifles. A sure sign of genius, you know, Miss Claris, and you must excuse it, as it's the only sign he's got. Oh, and just look at the pretty things he's been trampling under his great intellectual feet!"