Elspeth reached down the box, and spread out the contents, but Mrs. Kind, delighted to be in her old element, did the bargaining herself. Not that it was much pleasure, as Pope was a fool over money, and gave her what she asked. Of course Mrs. Kind was glad enough to despoil the fool of his cash, but she would have preferred a hard bargainer. However, that pleasure was denied her, and she handed over the paper and took the money. Meantime Elspeth, with her shawl over her head, waited impatiently for Pope, thinking meanwhile of her poor hunted lover, who was being stifled under her feet. She could have knelt and kissed the flooring above his head. "Come along--come along," she said impatiently. Pope shambled ungraciously out of the caravan, while she closed the door after them both. "You won't be in such a hurry to get home when you know the tantrum mother's in," he grinned. Elspeth did not vouchsafe a reply, but walked swiftly across the splashy meadow, and out on to the muddy road. She was determined in her own heart to bear no further insults from Mrs. Narby. The woman who was engaged to marry Angus Herries must not submit again to outrage. And the knowledge that she had won this wonderful love made her feel brave. She was no longer the ill-used drudge, but a self-contained, resolute woman, who could fight the whole world for the sake of her man; aye, fight the Universe itself. "I say," babbled Pope, as he shambled homeward beside her, "I wish I could get this five hundred pounds, Elspeth." "Blood money never did anyone good, Pope." "Yes, but this man is guilty." "No!" she stopped and pressed her hands against her loudly beating heart, "that, I'll never believe." "But the verdict of the jury." "It is a mistaken one. And his own cousin, who should defend him, is the one to offer that iniquitous reward." "I say," Pope looked at her curiously through the gathering gloom, "you do talk first-rate at times, Elspeth." "I have been to a good school," she answered shortly. "You might help me with my poetry," suggested the poet. "Well, I will, if you'll promise to give up trying to get this reward." "No, I shan't," snarled the uncouth creature. "If I can get that money I'll be able to publish my poetry. You don't know how my genius longs to spread its wings." "I know that your genius, as you call it, is perfectly capable of hanging an innocent man to get blood-money," she flamed out. "Everyone has to look after himself," returned Pope sulkily, "and if this Mr. Herries is not guilty, who is?" "That man who escaped in Sir Simon's fur coat." "Mother's got the coat, and intends to keep it from the police if she can," observed Pope complacently. "Dr. Browne just asked to see it before I came to fetch you." "Is Dr. Browne at the inn?"