you have done it? If you did it'--his heart leaped at the 'if' as at a
beam of sunshine on a rainy day--'you must have known all about us,
although I can't think how; you must have known where we kept things,
and that mamma had taken our other man-servant away. You must have
brought your accomplice to hide in the barn and do the work while you
played the gentleman! That is what Jacques Morin says; he says no one
but a child would have taken you in as I did, and that you might have
murdered us all. They are very angry with me.'

There was conflict in her manner; a few words would be said haughtily,
as to some one not worthy of her notice, and then again a few words as
to a friend. He saw that this conflict of her mind was increasing as she
stood face to face with him, and with that consolation he submitted, at
her request, to be more securely bound--the rope twisted round and
round, binding his arms to his sides. It was a girl's device; he made no
complaint.

It seemed that Morin had no thought of following the thief; his
faithfulness was limited to such service as he considered necessary, and
was of a cowardly rather than a valiant sort. Courthope, when his first
eagerness to seek passed off, was comforted by reflecting that, had he
himself been free, it would have been futile for him to attempt such a
quest while darkness lay over the land in which he was a stranger.

He was allowed to rest on the settle in the large inner kitchen,
securely locked in, and so near Morin's room that his movements could be
overheard. There, still in bonds, he spent the rest of the night.

CHAPTER IV

When the March morning shone clear and white through the still-falling
snow, and the Morins began to bustle about their work for the day, the
mental atmosphere in the kitchen seemed to have lost something of the
excited alarm that had prevailed in the night. Courthope arose; the
garments which he had donned in the night with frantic speed clothed but
did not adorn him; he knew that he must present a wild appearance, and
the domestic clothes-line, bound round and round his arms, prevented him
from so much as pushing back the locks of hair which straggled upon his
brow. He was rendered on the whole helpless; however murderous might be
his heart, a tolerably safe companion. He interested himself by
considering how Samson-like he could be in breaking the cords, or, even
tied, how vigorously he could kick Morin, if he were not a girl'