ing
that it must be a great thing for men who have been in prison for years
to have some one come in with a new point of view."

"I'm sure you will be an addition to prison life. It's an ill wind, you
know."

"It's an ill wind for my sister, literally enough. Come, Holland, you
certainly can trust me. Do be starting."

"Why, what do you take me for?" said the exasperated Geoffrey. "Do you
really suppose that I am going, looking for a den of your accomplices in
order to give you a chance to escape?"

"'Accomplices!'" exclaimed McVay; and for the first time a shade of
anger crossed his brow; "'_accomplices'_! I have no accomplices.
Anything I do I think I am able to do alone. Still," he added putting
aside his annoyance, "if you feel nervous about leaving me I'd just as
lief give you my word of honour to stay here until you come back."

"Your _what_?"

McVay made a slight gesture of his shoulders, as if he were being a good
deal tried. "Oh, anything you like," he said. "I suppose you could lock
me up in a closet."

"I don't think we need trouble to arrange the details," said Geoffrey
drily. "But I'll tell you what I will do. After I get you safely in jail
to-morrow, I'll get a trap and go and look up this hut."

"It may be too late then."

"It may," said Geoffrey, and continued to read.

Yet he had no further satisfaction in his book. He knew that the burglar
kept casting meditative glances at him as if in wonder at such
brutality, and in truth, his own mind was not entirely at ease. If by
any chance the story were true,--if there was a woman at his doors
freezing to death, how could he sit enjoying the fire? But, on the other
hand, could any one have a more evident motive for deception than his
informant? What better opportunity for escape could be arranged? It was
so evident, so impudent as to be almost convincing. What more likely for
instance, than that the hut was a regular rendezvous for criminals and
tramps, that by going he would be walking into the veriest trap? Yet
again there was the report confirmed by Harris's story that a woman was
in some way connected with these robberies. The wind whistled round the
house with a suggestion of difficulty, of combat with the elements, of
actual danger, perhaps, that suddenly gave Geoffrey a new view of delay.
Had it not something the air of cowardice, or at least of laziness? He
found his eyes had read the same page three times, while his brain was
busy devisin