"You'd think she could find chips nearer than the saw-mill," Mary said. "It's a good walk from the Nevills' place, if she's near there. I wouldn't wonder if the old body were unhinged by the fire altogether. She's never friendly at her best, but she looked quite queer just now. Did you notice how she was muttering to herself?" I let down the bars and we passed through into the field. "Austin," Mary said, as we picked our way over the boulder-strewn pasture, "do you know that I've got a confession to make, and it's worrying me." I smiled. "Anything very dreadful?" "I don't just know," she said. "It's about last night. You know I stayed out on the porch while you were all over at the fire. Well, it was while I was sitting there, about a quarter of an hour after you went, I saw Menning come up by the road. I don't think he even saw me. He was going at a sort of shambling trot, and he never looked up when he passed the house. I am sure it was he, though." "And you never told us!" I exclaimed. "I knew you'd be angry, but I couldn't help it. I didn't know about this whole story then, and--and I hate the idea of any man being hunted that way, no matter what he's done. I thought he might have some sort of chance to get away, and that's why I didn't say anything last night, even to Dick!" "Which way was he going?" "Toward the hill. Your chauffeur must surely have met him. That's what I couldn't make out." "He saw no one at all. The man may have turned off into the woods when he saw the car. I suppose you know what the sheriff would say to this?" "Compounding a felony!" Mary laughed. "Anyway he never asked me, so I didn't have to tell any lies about it. Only after what you said last night it worried me, and I thought I'd better own up. Now if he is caught it won't be on my conscience that I had a direct hand in it." "Oh, woman!" I exclaimed. "You'd have done the same in my case," she retorted. "Besides, I wasn't supposed to know. You never told me anything." "You are sure it was Menning?" "Quite sure. I had left the house door open, and he passed right into the light. I wondered why he was going away from the fire instead of toward it, and I thought at first he might be going to get more help. I didn't know then. He hadn't been there all along." We reached the farm, and I left her below while I saw my patient. Either I was longer than I thought, or we must have loitered unconsciously on our way over, for when I joined her again on the porch the light was already fading. Then there was a delay about the cream. Rebecca had to fetch it, and while she was gone Mary turned to me.