He wondered why she wished to remain, but did not question her further. In the afternoon he went to London. She was glad to be alone; she wanted to be quiet and think. Supposing Hector Woodridge had escaped from Dartmoor, and was not dead, what would happen? What would he do to her? She trembled, felt faint; there was no telling to what lengths such a man infuriated at the cruelty and misery he had suffered, might go. She must find out more about it. The man to see was Carl Hackler, but how to approach him? She meant to converse with him at any cost, and went out with that intention. Carl had nothing to do but idle time away; he was quite certain the prisoner had either got clear off, or was lying dead on the moor. He saw Mrs. Elroy coming toward him, and recognized her as the lady Brack had taken out in his boat. She evidently intended speaking to him. "You are Mr. Hackler, I believe?" she asked. "I am; at your service." "The boatman told me who you were. You come from the prison at Dartmoor?" "I do." "A man has escaped, I want to know more about it. The boatman gave me to understand he was tried for murder in Yorkshire some years ago. If this is the man who escaped I know him, I know the family," she said. "What name?" asked Hackler. "Woodridge. Hector Woodridge," she said. "I believe it's the same man," said Hackler, interested. "Will he be caught?" "If he's alive he's sure to be taken." "But you think it probable he is dead?" she questioned. "I think it quite possible." "Are you here on the lookout for him?" "Yes." "Surely he would not be likely to come to Torquay." "I don't know so much about that. You see he might be able to get away by sea if he had friends, or some one willing to help him," said Hackler. "Who would help him? The risk would be too great." "There's many men take risks for each other. You seem interested in him." "I am. I know him, a dangerous man, I should not care to meet him again," she said. "He had not that reputation at Dartmoor. He was quiet and inoffensive, about the last man we'd have thought would try to escape," he said. "And you have no doubt he is Hector Woodridge?" "No, I don't think there's much doubt about that; in fact none at all. It is improbable he will meet you again. Even if he has got away he'll go out of the country into some safe hiding-place; he's not likely to roam about England," he said. She thanked him, asked him to accept a sovereign, which he did not refuse. Carl Hackler watched her as she walked away; she looked stately, carried herself well, what he called a "stunner." Carl wondered why she was so anxious to find out who the escaped prisoner was. She must have some personal interest in him; she did not seem like a woman who wasted her time over trifles. He determined to see Brack and hear what he had to say about the lady. He had a good deal of regard for Brack, also a shrewd idea that in some way or another the boatman had the better of him.