“Well, I came here purely out o’ kin’ness,” began Tyke ingratiatingly, his eyes roving from door to window and back again. “I’m ’war I’m doin’ a dangerous thing; an’ I’m riskin’ m’life. The man we gotta deal with is a desp’rate feller, an’ he wouldn’t stop at nothin’. We gotta work still as death ur we won’t get nowheres. Now, to begin, ’bout how long uv you ben sure your young woman relative was kidnapped?” “Kidnapped!” said Gene with a start. “Kidnapped. Yes. Why--” Then it was money the man wanted. “Why--I’ve been coming slowly to that conclusion for sometime. Haven’t been able to prove it yet of course--That is--” Here, he was telling too much himself. He oughtn’t to tell this man anything. He ought to let the man do all the talking. “Well, I kin,” said Tyke, unconsciously raising his voice a trifle. “Got four good witnesses ’sides myse’f to prove it in court. Know the very day an’ hour when it happened. We all seen the body, and one of us seen him buryin’ her.” “Body!” exclaimed Gene, jumping up, white to the lips. “Burying!” “Sit still, man! Keep yer shirt on! We don’t get nowheres carryin’ on with them highstrikes. Somebody might be round an’ hear ya. You can’t never tell. You gotta learn to keep quiet ef you wantta hear what I got ta say.” “Go on,” said Gene with dry lips and stiff articulation. The horror of it froze his senses. In spite of him his mother’s face came reproachfully between him and the stranger. What had he done to Joyce? How had he been responsible for all this that had happened to her? He was not a bad man. He did not want her inheritance at the expense of her life. He was merely a selfish man. This girl was his own blood and kin, and he was responsible for her safety. Fear sat upon his face. What might not come to him when the town heard this? But the stranger was asking him a question. With an effort he pulled himself back to attend.