"You are to be no coward, Morley," Marcia Lowe had said; "you're to face your future like a man--like Sandy's father. He will well understand. I will stand by you and see fair play for you; I'll pay for a good lawyer, and you will take your medicine, whatever it is, and be clean and decent for your boy and girl. I'll take care of Molly." After a time Martin agreed to this, but from the shivering of the form beside her, the little doctor realized the struggle. And so they reached Morley's cabin and entered, like ghosts, into the fear-haunted place. Mary was gone. The fire was smouldering in the last flashes, the damp ashes were drying--but Mary had made a bodily escape. "So!" whispered Marcia Lowe. "It was better to make sure. Go upstairs, see if she is there." Mary was not there. "Now come back." Through the chill of the early morning the two drove silently back to Trouble Neck and with strange foreboding the little doctor made her way at once to the lean-to bed-chamber--Molly, too, was gone! She had made her way to Teale's, Miss Lowe felt sure. The next morning the news spread fast, garbled by many tongues. Teale's place had been raided! Teale had escaped and the Morleys had accompanied him. "Well!" said Sally Taber to Cynthia; "I 'spect Mart Morley had to get his livin' somehow. The yaller streak's got the best of him." Cynthia made no reply. Oddly enough in her fancy she was gazing upon the portrait of "The Biggest of Them All." CHAPTER XII Martin Morley slept, in the clean loft over Marcia Lowe's living-room. There was a good warm bed there, and before he had gone up the ladder to his much-needed rest, the little doctor had fed him and given him hot coffee to drink. "You are safe," she had comforted him. "God has been good to you, Martin Morley. Molly is with her mother and, sad as it is, we can do nothing more for her. Forget it all, and to-morrow you and I will consider the future." So Martin slept and slept, and the front door of the cabin was kept closed and locked. Refreshed and humble, Martin, on the evening of the following day, cautiously crept down the ladder from his loft-chamber and tapped upon the outer door of the cabin. It was a very smiling and trim little body that welcomed him and bade him sit down to a table laid for an evening meal. "You see I've waited for you, Mr. Morley; we have a slice of ham, some hot biscuits, and baked potatoes. There's a loaf of cake, too, and coffee and a try at a pudding for which my mother used to be famous." Every nerve of Martin's starved stomach thrilled, but his eyes did not meet Marcia Lowe's. "You are feeling better, Martin Morley?" "Yes, ma'am; thank you, ma'am." "Well, then I want you to share my meal." "I--I ain't worthy, ma'am. I can never pay you, ma'am, for what you've done and meant to me. I'm ready to go now, ma'am." "Where, Martin Morley?" The little doctor was pouring the coffee, and the odour made Morley dizzy with longing.