keep the police
off Daly's track until I've seen him. He might make trouble for
Lawrence if he was arrested, but I don't think this counts for much.
You would be nearer the mark if you took it for granted that I'm
naturally rash and can't resist a chance of adventure."

They had walked round the orchard, and reached the arch again, but
Alice stopped.

"So it seems," she said in a quiet voice that nevertheless gave a
Foster a thrill. "The charm of rashness is a favorite subject of
yours."

"It's better that your friends should understand you," Foster replied
modestly.

"One must admit that you live up to the character you give yourself.
First you plunged into difficulties to keep a promise you should not
have made, then you undertook to baffle a dangerous man because your
partner needed help, and now I think you are going to face a very
serious risk."

Foster, who felt embarrassed, said nothing, and Alice gave him her hand.

"I am glad you have been frank with me, and if my wish can bring you
good fortune, it will be yours. You will do your best, I know; but be
careful and come back safe!"

Foster had kissed her hand on another occasion, but durst not do so
now. He was conscious of a keen emotional stirring and thought the
girl felt some strain. There was a hint of suppressed feeling in her
voice that sapped his self-control, and he thought it was because she
trusted and liked him her manner had a certain touch of pride.

"After all, I don't think I run much risk," he answered. "But if there
was a risk, it would be well worth while."

It was nearly dark, but he thought he saw some color in her face.

"Good luck! But wait in the road for a minute or two," she said and
turned away.

He watched her cross the lawn until her figure faded into the gloom,
after which he went back to the gate and waited until John came up with
a small packet.

"Miss Featherstone sends you this, sir, but hopes you won't open it
until you are in the train."

Foster thanked him and went back with Pete up the waterside. The air
was keen and a light mist hung about the rough track that took them to
the moors. There was a beat of wings as a flock of wild duck passed
overhead when they skirted a reedy pool, and once or twice the wild cry
of a curlew came out of the dark. Except for this, the moor was silent
and desolate, but Foster felt a strange poignant elation as he stumbled
among the ruts and splashed across boggy grass