"Toot hinted at it himself," she said, slowly.
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
"You met him?"
"Yes."
"Are you a member of his gang?"
"Mr. Westerfelt," shrinking from him, "do--do you mean to insult me?"
"Would he have told you if he had thought you would give him away?"
"I reckon not--why, no."
"Then he considers you in sympathy with his murderous plans."
"I don't know, but I want you to keep out of his way. You must--oh,
Mr. Westerfelt, you must go! Don't stand here; they are coming down
the Hawkbill road directly. You could ride off towards Dartsmouth and
easily get away, if you will hurry."
"I see," he answered, with a steady stare of condemnation; "you want to
keep him from committing another crime--a more serious one."
She looked at him an instant as if puzzled, and then said:
"I want to keep him from killing you."
"Do you think he would take advantage of a helpless man?"
"I know it, Mr. Westerfelt; oh, I know he would!"
"Then you acknowledge he is a coward, and yet you--my God, what sort of
a creature _are_ you?"
She continued to stare at him wonderingly, as if half afraid.
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