be lightened. The Crown Attorney for the county had already
communicated with the local government, and a detective had been sent,
who arrived that morning by the little steamboat. Before Toyner realised
the situation he found himself in consultation with the new-comer as to
the best means of seeking Markham. Did the perfect righteousness require
that he should betray Ann's confidence and state that Markham was in
hiding somewhere within reach? Bart looked the question for a moment in
the face, and trembled before it. Then he set it aside unanswered,
resolved on reticence, whether it was right or wrong.

The detective, finding that Toyner had no clue to report, soon went to
drink Ann's beer, on business intent. Bart kept sedulously apart from
this interview. When it was over the stranger took Toyner by the arm and
told him privately that he was convinced that the young woman knew
nothing whatever about the prisoner, and as Markham had been gone now
forty-eight hours it was his opinion that it was not near Fentown that
he would be found.

This communication was made to Toyner in the public-house, where they
had both gone the better to discuss their affairs. Toyner had gone in
labouring under horrible emotion. He believed that he was going to get
drunk, and the result of his fear was that he broke his pledge, giving
as an excuse to the by-standers that he felt ill. Yet he did not get
drunk.

Toyner saw the detective depart by the afternoon boat, and as he walked
back upon the bit of hot dusty road in the sun he reeled, not with the
spirits he had taken, but with the sickening sense that his battle was
lost.

Nothing seemed fair to him, nothing attractive, but to drink one more
glass of spirits, and to go and make promises to Ann that would be sweet
to her ear. He knew that for him it was the gate of death.

At this point the minister met him, and jumped at once to the conclusion
that he was drunk. The minister was one of those good men who found
their faith in God upon absolute want of faith in man. His heart was
better than his head, as is the case with all small-minded souls that
have come into conscious contact with God, but his opinions ruled his
official conduct. "I am afraid you have been drinking, Toyner," he said
reproachfully.

The first three words, "I am afraid," were enough for Bart; he was
filled himself with an all-pervading fear--a fear of himself, a fear of
God, a fear of the devil who would possess