arge was a
matter which would entail time and trouble, and something else which
he did not care to contemplate; besides, he wanted to get away. His
recollection of his recent interview with Iredale was still with him.
And he remembered well the rancher's attitude. It struck him that
George Iredale would fight hard to prove his innocence. He wondered
uncomfortably if he could establish it. No, he must make a better
bargain than the girl offered.

"See here, Prue, this is a matter of business. There is no sentiment
in it as far as I am concerned. Your conditions are too hard. You pay
me half the money down when I give you the story. You can pay the rest
when I have carried out your further conditions. It is only fair.
Establishing a case in the law courts is a thing that takes time. And,
besides, I have known guilty people to get off before now. I can
convince you of the truth of my case. A jury is different."

Prudence thought for a moment. They were already within earshot of the
thresher. And the droning of the machine and the jerky spluttering of
the traction engine sounded pleasantly in the sultry atmosphere. The
dog hobbled lazily at her heels, nor did he show the least sign of
interest in his surroundings. The wagons loaded with bountiful sheaves
were drawing up to the thresher from half-a-dozen directions, whilst
those already emptied were departing for fresh supplies. Everywhere
was a wondrous peace; only in those two hearts was an ocean of
unrest.

"Very well. If you can convince me, it shall be as you say. You shall
have the money. The rest shall remain until after the jury's verdict.
I am not prepared to give you the money I have saved for any tale you
choose to concoct. Now let me have your story. You have shown me too
much of your sordid craving to make me a ready believer."

"You will believe me before I have finished, Prue," the man retorted,
with a bitter laugh. "You will find corroboration for what I have to
tell in your own knowledge of certain facts."

"So much the better for you. Go on."

In spite of her cautious words Prudence waited with nerves tingling
and with rapidly beating heart for her brother's story. She did not
know herself. She did not understand the feelings which swayed her.
Hervey had an easier task than either of them believed. Of late she
had dwelt so long--so intently--upon the matter under discussion that
she was ready to believe almost anything which offered a solution to
th