ere full of tears, her face was drawn and gray.

He nodded. "I didn't know who he was till I arrested him," he said. "Then,
afterward, I thought of his child, and let him get away; and for my poor
old mother's sake. She never knew how bad he was, even as a boy. But I
remember how he used to steal and drink the brandy from her bedside, when
she had the fever. She never knew the worst of him. But I let him away in
the night, Jo, and I resigned, and they thought that Halbeck had beaten
me, had escaped. Of course I couldn't stay in the Force, having done that.
But, by the heaven above us, if I had him here now I'd do the thing--do
it, so help me God!"

"Why should you ruin your life for him?" she said, with an outburst of
indignation. All that was in her heart welled up in her eyes at the
thought of what Foyle was. "You must not do it. You shall not do it. _He_
must pay for his wickedness, not you. It would be a sin. You and what
becomes of you mean so much." Suddenly, with a flash of purpose, she
added, "He will come for that letter, Nett. He would run any kind of risk
to get a dollar. He will come here for that letter--perhaps to-day."

He shook his head moodily, oppressed by the trouble that was on him. "He's
not likely to venture here, after what's happened."

"You don't know him as well as I do, Nett. He is so vain he'd do it, just
to show that he could. He'd probably come in the evening. Does any one
know him here? So many people pass through Kowatin every day. Has any one
seen him?"

"Only Billy Goatry," he answered, working his way to a solution of the
dark problem. "Only Billy Goatry knows him. The fellow that led the
singing--that was Goatry."

"There he is now," he added, as Billy Goat passed the window.

She came and laid a hand on his arm. "We've got to settle things with
him," she said. "If Dorl comes, Nett--"

There was silence for a moment, then he caught her hand in his and held
it. "If he comes, leave him to me, Jo. You will leave him to me?" he
added, anxiously.

"Yes," she answered. "You'll do what's right--by Bobby?"

"And by Dorl, too," he replied, strangely.

There were loud footsteps without.

"It's Goatry," said Foyle. "You stay here. I'll tell him everything. He's
all right; he's a true friend. He'll not interfere."

The handle of the door turned slowly. "You keep watch on the post-office,
Jo," he added.

Goatry came round the opening door with a grin.

"Hope I don't intrude," he