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Elinor rippled and dimpled in a surprisingly sparkling fashion as she recounted her experience in the portrait room, and Patricia, while she listened, marveled at the change in her placid sister. The sound of running water outside their shelter gradually forced its way into the tumult. The road was a yellow waterway; the brook tore above the limit of its deep banks into a widening saffron river among the green meadows, which showed in the ghastly light in crude and ugly colors. "Nothing seems to be happening," said Elinor to her in an undertone as she joined her. "I believe I'll wait till later, unless I see signs of action.".
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Major Jen sprang to his feet with a loud cry. This information that Battersea was the criminal took him so utterly by surprise that for the moment he was tongue-tied. Then, when he recalled the feeble and emaciated form of the old tramp, when he recollected his weak intelligence, he altogether declined to believe that such a creature, one so wanting in activity, could have conceived and executed a triple crime--the theft of the devil-stick, the murder of Maurice, the stealing of the body. Battersea had not sufficient craft or strength to do such things. With a shrug of his shoulders the major resumed his seat. "Resurrectionists!" suggested Arkel; whereupon Major Jen shuddered. "So it was you whom he went to see on business to-night?" Patricia, protesting, dragged herself from the restful nest, but by the time they had begun to arrange the gay little bags of candy in the big red Japanese lantern, she was as enthusiastic as Elinor could wish..
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