No risk could be too great to save her brother. She knew a chance would never occur again. And if he were caught and sent back until he had served his time, then, when he came out, he would no longer be a man but really and truly a criminal—something distorted, hideous, unnatural. A human being at war with humanity. It was just at the end of three weeks that Jim Crichton presented himself at the farm to say good-bye before going back to Netheravon to join his corps. Rupert’s escape had never been spoken of in the farmhouse. Dale had forbidden his name to be mentioned, and Marjorie sometimes wondered if her father had lost all feeling for his only son. She had a dreadful thought that if he knew of his hiding-place he would instantly inform the police and give him up. "I suppose when we meet again you will be millionaires," Crichton said cheerily. "I see a prospectus is being issued next week of The Blackthorn Development Company. I shall apply for a few shares—just for luck." "I’m afraid you won’t get them," Despard answered. "The Company will be subscribed two or three times over. You go back to Netheravon to-morrow?" Jim nodded. "Alone?" There was a moment’s silence. Marjorie caught her breath. There seemed to be a challenge in Despard’s voice. "Yes, alone," Jim replied with a laugh. "Unfortunately, I can’t take Marjorie with me—yet. Perhaps in a few months’ time, though, we shall fly off together, man and wife." Despard shrugged his shoulders as he left the room. "Perhaps," he murmured under his breath. Crichton shook hands with Dale, and the old man held his hand a few moments longer than was necessary. "It’s a brave thing you’re doing in keeping the promise you gave Marjorie; but if you insist on making her your wife, you’ll break your father’s heart, Mr. Crichton." "I hope not. I hope he’ll come to see things my way. But if I had to make a choice, Mr. Dale, I’d rather break his than hers." Dale sighed and nodded his head. "I suppose youth must be served," he whispered. "Perhaps it’s just that the old should suffer. My boy has broken my heart—that’s why I feel for your father." "You’re convinced of your son’s guilt, then?" Jim said. "Of course I am. Why, he confessed it!" Jim turned away. "Perhaps one day his innocence may be proved, Mr. Dale. Oh, I don’t want to raise false hopes in your breast. But I’m beginning to believe with Marjorie that he was innocent of the crime of which he was convicted. While there’s life there’s hope, remember." He took Marjorie’s hand: "Walk down as far as Post Bridge with me, will you? We will say good-bye at the place where we first confessed our love." Once they were alone it was not of love they spoke. They walked side by side, and now and then Marjorie laughed. If anyone had overheard, if anyone had been watching them, they would never have guessed of what these two lovers were talking.