"I've--I've heard that name," Truedale ventured. "It's a name
that--somehow clings and, being a writer-man, everything interests me."

Then Greyson gave an account of the trap episode tallying so exactly
with White's version that it established a firm structure upon which to
lay all that was to follow.

"And there ain't nothing as can raise a woman's tenderness and loyalty
to a man," Greyson went on, "like getting into a hard fix, and sho'
Burke Lawson was in a right bad fix.

"I begin to see it all now. Nella-Rose went to Merrivale's and he told
her Burke had come back. Merrivale told me that. Naturally it upset her
and she followed him up to warn him. Think o' that lil' girl tracking
'long the hills, through all that storm, to--to save the man she had
played with and flouted but loved, without knowing it! Nella-Rose was
like that. She lit on things and took her fun--but in the big parts she
always did come out strong."

Truedale shifted his position.

"I reckon I'm wearying you with my troubles?" Greyson spoke
apologetically.

"No, no. Go on. This interests me very much."

"Well, sir, Burke Lawson and Jed Martin came on each other in the deep
woods the night of the big storm and Burke and Jed had words and a
scene. Jed owned up to that. It was life and death and I ain't blaming
any one and I have one thing to thank Burke for--he might have done
different and left a stain on a lady's name, sir! He told Jed how he had
seen Nella-Rose and how she had scorned him for being a coward, but how
she would take her words back if he dared come out and show his head.
And he 'lowed he was going to come out then and there, which he did, and
he and Nella-Rose was going off to Cataract Falls where the Lawsons
hailed from, on the mother's side."

"But--how do you know that your daughter kept her word? This Lawson may
have been obliged to make away with himself--alone." Truedale grew more
daring. He saw that Greyson, absorbed by his trouble, was less on guard.
But Greyson was keenly observant.

"He's heard the gossip," thought the old man, "it's ringing through the
hills. Well, a dog as can fetch a bone can carry one!" With that
conclusion reached, Peter made his master stroke.

"I've heard from her," he half whispered.

"Heard from her?" gasped Truedale, and even then Greyson seemed unaware
of the attitude of the stranger. "How--did you hear from her?"

"She wrote and sent the letter long of--of Bill Trim, a half-wit-