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Neale watched her in despair, and, watching, he divined that only the most infinite patience and magnetism and power could bring her out of her brooding long enough to give nature a chance. He recognized how unequal he was to the task. But the impossible or the unattainable had always roused Neale's spirit. Defeat angered him.
Neale's horse grazed along the green border of the brook. The water ran with low, swift rush; there were bees humming round the autumn flowers and a fragrance of wood-smoke wafted down from the camp; over all lay the dreaming quietness of the season and the wild. Allie sat down upon the rock, but Neale, changing his mind, stood beside her. Still he did not trust himself to face her.
The superintendent and the detective listened silently to Neale's account of the meeting with Creasy, and Betty, watching Starmidge's face, saw that he was quietly taking in all the points of importance. "Is this tin-man to be depended upon?" he asked, when Neale had finished. "Is he known?" "I know him," answered Polke. "He's come to this neighbourhood for many years.
"Yes, a little." "I knowed thot.... All roight, I'll die with ye, thin." In half an hour Pat was in despair again. He had to rest. "Phwat's ye're name?" he queried. "Neale." "It ought to be Casey. Fer there was niver but wan loike ye an' he was Casey.... Mon, ye're sweatin' blood roight now!" Pat pointed at Neale's red, wet shirt.
Neale's strong hand had opened the door to freedom and she could see what the bound-women could not . . . that freedom is not the end, but only the beginning. It was as though something were holding her gripped and upright there, staring before her, motionless, till she had put herself to the last supreme test.
"Don't faint ... Hear me. You remember we were curious about a girl Durade had in his place. This is she Allie Lee. She is innocent. Durade held her for revenge. He had loved then hated her mother ... Hough won all Durade's gold and then the girl ... But we had to fight ... Stanton, this Allie Lee is Neale's sweetheart ... He believes her dead ... You hide her bring Neale to her."
Marise sat down again, there in the pantry, leaned her head against the door and looked steadily at the shelves before her, full of dishes and jars and bottles and empty jelly glasses. In her mind there was only one thing, a fixed resolve not to think at all, of anything, until she had been to Neale's office and had Neale explain it to her.
Betty involuntarily shivered and glanced about her at the dark cavernous spaces of the wood, which had now thickened into dense masses of oak and beech. She took a firmer grip of Neale's arm. "And he'd come through here!" she exclaimed. "How dangerous! with those things in his pocket!" "Oh, but he'd think nothing of it!" answered Neale.
Nice, soft spot he fell into." "It was I that came near falling," said Agnes, gravely, "and it wasn't a soft spot at all under that tree. I'd have been hurt if it hadn't been for Neale." "Hel-lo!" exclaimed Neale's uncle, sharply. "What's this all about? That rascal been playin' the hero again? My, my! It ought to be a big drawin' card when we play this town in August.
However glibly those two conspirators might gild over the affair it nevertheless was a criminal matter to which I had blindly committed myself. Neale's parting words of warning alone made that clearly evident. They understood the risk of discovery, and now I also comprehended it with equal clearness.
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