at first had shown all
the symptoms of fear, but the moment Bryce spoke they faded out, to be
replaced by a very obvious air of relief. Yet there was nothing of
recognition in the man's eyes; they were full of a great blank wonder,
like the eyes of a child who takes its first look at the teeming life
beyond its doors. His forehead crinkled up as if he were trying to
recall something that had slipped his memory.

"Who are you?" he said at length. "I ... I don't think I know you," and
he brushed his forehead with a weak, ineffective gesture of the hand. It
was then that Bryce noticed the matted, blood-stained condition of his
hair and the big purple bruise that disfigured his temple. His quick
mind guessed at what had happened, though, erroneously enough, he
concluded that Cumshaw had received the blows in an encounter with the
men who had been the original cause of the man's flight.

"You'd better come with me, Cumshaw," he said in the same soothing tone
that he would have applied to a tired child.

"I'm going home," said Cumshaw with weak stubbornness. "I don't want to
go with you."

"I'll take you home," said Bryce.

That he decided was the only thing he could do. Cumshaw was in no fit
state to continue the search for his lost valley, and Bryce realised
that it would not be safe to leave him uncared for. If he went home with
Cumshaw he would be throwing his pursuers off the track. That would help
him considerably. He had no fear that they would discover the valley
during his absence; their attack on him showed that they had come to the
end of their resources, and fancied that their only hope of touching any
of the spoils was by forcing the secret out of Bryce. Of course it was
quite on the cards that they would follow the car, but it was just as
likely that they would make no definite move until they had solved the
meaning of his change of plans.

Cumshaw was still standing like a man in a dream. Bryce placed his hand
on the man's arm.

"Come along with me," he said. "I'll see that you get safely home."

He bent down quickly and picked up the loam-encrusted object that
Cumshaw had dropped in the first moment of the encounter, Cumshaw
followed his movements with troubled eyes, but did not interfere in any
way. Bryce could see that the thing was a bit of wood, and on one piece
of it, where the earth had been scraped off, there were letters
scratched. He thrust it into his pocket, meaning to examine it more
clos