rward, holding out a hand slightly in front of her.

"Well?"

At the sound of the word she stood rigid, the pallor deepening on her
face. She knew where he was standing though she could not see; she knew
that barely a yard away the man who spoke was standing, his heavy black
brows forming a band across his forehead, drawn down in a scowl over
eyes that glared at her in all the cruelty of unredeemed hate.

"How's the boy?"

"He is well," she answered, "very well. He is----"

"I've come for him."

The woman gasped and caught her breath.

"No, no," she said in a strained tone. "I cannot part with him. It would
kill me."

"It's ten years and more since I was here, and now I've come back to see
you, perhaps at the risk of my neck, you--you shrink from me," the man
said, with cruelty in every line of his face and malice in his voice.

The woman stood still and silent. The last time, and every time, he had
come he had said such things, but only when he threatened to take from
her the one thing she cherished did she wince.

"Who was the girl?" he asked, watching her colourless face and staring
eyes from under his black, heavy brows.

"She is a friend staying with me."

He laughed, not unmusically.

"Staying with you? A plaything for the boy, eh?"

"No," she said quickly. "No; he is not like that."

Again the man laughed.

"There are different tales in the district," he said. "I've been back
long enough to learn that. If he were different, I'd have him out of
this soon enough to learn him what to do--only he don't want teaching."

She shrank back a step, and the man noticed it and understood.

"Do you think I have forgotten?" he said, with a return of the
vindictive cruelty in his voice. "Do you think I'd leave him here if it
weren't to make things square? I've been away ten years--where, it's
nothing to you; but it hasn't made me softer. I thought I'd come and see
how the old place looked, and see whether you still were enjoying the
affection of your son and keeping my hiding-place free."

"No one has touched it," she answered quietly.

"No; because you hadn't the pluck to destroy it. Don't tell me you kept
it because you promised. I know how much your promises are worth. I've
not forgotten."

She did not answer as he paused, and he went on:

"The boy's got to come here; I've got something for him to do. Then he
and I----"

"No," she said quickly; "he shall not come."

He took a step forward, and