"Oh, I am not likely to do that," she interrupted scornfully. "I shall not add to their misery. If I could prove that you betrayed that poor, foolish child,--then I would see to it that you paid the price. But I cannot prove it. I only know that she would have been helpless in your hands. Oh, I know your power! I have felt it. And I did not even pretend to myself that I loved you. What chance would she have had if she loved and trusted you? I shudder at the thought of--If Amos Vick should even suspect you of wronging his child, he would not wait for proof. He would tear you to pieces. You may be innocent. That is why I am giving you your chance. Now, go!" "You certainly will give me the opportunity to defend myself, Alix. Am I to be condemned unheard? If you will allow me to walk to the ferry with you--" "And who is to act as my bodyguard?" she inquired with a significant sneer. "Go! I never want to see your face again." With that, she left him. He stood perfectly still, staring after the slender, boyish figure until it was hidden from view by the bend of the stairway. His eyes were glassy. Fear possessed his soul. Suddenly he was aroused to action. "I'd better get out of this," he muttered. His hand clutched the weapon in his coat pocket as he strode swiftly toward the front door. Once outside he paused to look furtively about him before descending the porch steps. Several men were standing near the gate. The porch was deserted. He wondered if Amos Vick was down there waiting for him. Then he remembered what Alix had said to him: "These people trust you,--they still trust you." What had he to fear? He laughed,--a short, jerky, almost inaudible laugh,--and went confidently down the walk. As he passed the little group he uttered a brief "good night" to the men, and was rewarded by a friendly response from all of them. Down the moonlit road he trudged, his brain working rapidly, feverishly. In his heart was the rage of defeat, in his soul the clamour of fear,--not fear now of the dark strip of woods but of the whole world about him. He communed aloud. "The first thing to do is to pack. I've got to do that tonight. I'm through here. The jig's up. She means it. How the devil did she find out all this stuff?...But if I leave immediately it will look suspicious. I've got to stick around for a few days. If I beat it tomorrow morning some one's bound to ask questions. It will look queer. Tomorrow I'll receive an urgent letter calling me home. Mother needs me. Her health is bad....I wonder if an autopsy would reveal anything....Tomorrow sure. I can't stand it here another day....There's nothing to worry about,--not a thing,--but what's the sense of my hanging around here any longer? She's on. Some meddling whelp has been--Good Lord, I wonder if it could be that fat fool, Webster?...If I skip out tonight, it would set Vick to thinking....What a fool I was...."