ned himself from
crying out and from breaking into one of his fits of trembling. This
sudden arrest was all the more disturbing to his mental composure
because, for the moment, he could not see to whom the hand belonged. But
as he twisted round he became aware of a tall, thin shape at his elbow;
the next instant a whisper stole to his ear.

"H'sh! Be careful!--there's men down there on the path!--they're very
like after you," said the voice. "Wait here a minute!"

"Who are you?" demanded Mallalieu hoarsely. He was endeavouring to free
his wrist, but the steel-like fingers clung. "Let go my hand!" he said.
"D'ye hear?--let it go!"

"Wait!" said the voice. "It's for your own good. It's me--Miss Pett. I
saw you--against that patch of light between the trees there--I knew
your big figure. You've got away, of course. Well, you'll not get much
further if you don't trust to me. Wait till we hear which way them
fellows go."

Mallalieu resigned himself. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the
gloom of the wood, he made out that Miss Pett was standing just within
an opening in the trees; presently, as the voices beneath them became
fainter, she drew him into it.

"This way!" she whispered. "Come close behind me--the house is close
by."

"No!" protested Mallalieu angrily. "None of your houses! Here, I want to
be on the moors. What do you want--to keep your tongue still?"

Miss Pett paused and edged her thin figure close to Mallalieu's bulky
one.

"It'll not be a question of my tongue if you once go out o' this wood,"
she said. "They'll search those moors first thing. Don't be a
fool!--it'll be known all over the town by now! Come with me and I'll
put you where all the police in the county can't find you. But of
course, do as you like--only, I'm warning you. You haven't a cat's
chance if you set foot on that moor. Lord bless you, man!--don't they
know that there's only two places you could make for--Norcaster and
Hexendale? Is there any way to either of 'em except across the moors?
Come on, now--be sensible."

"Go on, then!" growled Mallalieu. Wholly suspicious by nature, he was
wondering why this she-dragon, as he had so often called her, should be
at all desirous of sheltering him. Already he suspected her of some
design, some trick--and in the darkness he clapped his hand on the
hip-pocket in which he had placed his revolver. That was safe
enough--and again he thanked his stars that the police had not searched
him.