But if he had harbored any thoughts of attacking him once he was freed, the painful stiffness of his limbs dispelled them. There was nothing for it now but to play along, and keep watching for a chance..... But in spite of all he could not fully submerge a feeling of relief at being set free, and a raw animal gratitude as they moved to the kitchen, and he drank his fill of water from the urn. With the pistol in his hand but not pointed, Michael led him next to the small, attached toolshed behind the cottage. Pointing inside it to a shovel, he instructed the Englishman to take it up, then walk ahead of him slowly to the gravesite of his clan. "You're not going to bury him here?" said Stephen as they reached it. "Yes, I am. He may have been an honorable man, and he may not. But he died among us, and among us he will lie." "Us?" "Master Purceville, you have a nasty habit of questioning the inevitable. We are in a place of burial, because a man is dead. I am a Scot with a pistol, and you are a Brit with a spade. There is the earth; now dig . I will ask the questions." Muttering, but having no choice, Stephen did as he was told. Michael leaned back wearily against a tree. And shaking off the melancholy of both the place and the task at hand, he forced his mind to think. He must unravel the mystery of the man before him. So speaking with the half-truths and feigned ignorance which had become habitual with him among strangers, he began. "The first question is simply put, and simply answered. I expect nothing less than the truth....." Nothing. "I have heard it said that Mary is your half-sister. Is that true?" Bluntly. "Yes." "You have been less than kind to her." Stephen felt the color rising at the back of his neck. "I didn't know, until a few days ago." "And how do you feel towards her now?" "That's none of your affair!" he cried, whirling angrily. He would have advanced, but Michael straightened and pointed the gun squarely at his chest. "That's enough. Save your anger for the digging." The other relented, but did not turn away. "Very well," continued Michael. "I will assume from the heat of your answer that you care for her, and perhaps are not altogether happy that she has been locked away." "Why in Hell do you think I'm here?" he snapped. "You bloody savages think you're the only ones to stand up for something? I stood up for Mary, and look what became of it." He threw down the shovel in disgust. "Do you think I'm glad at what's happened? I promised to protect her! My father will pay for what he's done to me." Michael watched the younger man's face intently, searching for any sign of deceit. He found none. It seemed almost too good to be true. Not only might this man's emotions be turned toward freeing the women. . .but by all appearances he was as shallow and guileless as his father was deep and cunning. But he knew better than to hope too much, or to show his true feelings, at all.