e path after her to look up
the road, lest she had seen something pursuing her. But the night was
still. There was no sound of footsteps on the snow, and the far-off
barking of a fox made the silence more complete. She was only hurrying,
because her mother heart had wakened suddenly to the loneliness of the
child up there among the pillows, torturing herself with wonders that
she could leave him. He went out into the road and continued on her
track, until he saw her turn into the woods. Then, waiting until she
should be far enough in advance not to catch the sound of his pursuit,
he suddenly heard footsteps on the road and turned. A man was coming
rapidly. It was Dick.

XXXIII

In his relief--for, in spite of the man's lameness, he had made sure it
was Tenney--Raven laughed out. At once he sobered, for why was Dick here
but to spy on him?

"Well," he inquired brusquely, "what is it?"

They turned together, and Dick did not speak. When they had gone in and
Raven closed the hall door and glanced at him, he was suddenly aware
that the boy had not spoken because he could not trust himself. His
brows were knit, his face dark with reproachful anger.

"Think the old man shouldn't have gone out in the cold without his hat
and muffler?" asked Raven satirically.

"Yes," said Dick, in a quick outburst. "I think just that. It's a risk
you've no business to take. In your condition, too. Oh, yes, I know you
do look fit enough, but you can't depend on that. Besides--Jack, who's
that woman? What's she going up into the woods for? She's not going to
the hut? Is that why----?"

Raven stood looking at him, studying not so much his face as the
situation. He turned to the library door.

"Come in, Dick," he said. "We'll talk it out. We can't either of us
sleep."

Dick followed him in and they took their accustomed chairs. Raven
reached for his pipe, but he did not fill it: only sat holding it,
passing his thumb back and forth over the bowl. He was determining to be
temperate, to be fair. Dick could not forget he was old, but he must
force himself not to gibe at Dick for being young.

"Do you feel able," he said, "to hear a queer story and keep mum over
it? Or do you feel that a chap like me, who ought to be in the
Psychopathic, hasn't any right to a square deal? When you see me going
off my nut, as you expect, shall you feel obliged to give in your
evidence, same as families do to the doctor and the clergyman if a man's