ction from her, let go her arm; his hand dropped to the back of
the seat and he drew it up quickly.

"Harriet, there's blood here!"

She did not reply. He stared at her and seemed to comprehend.

He shouted to the men around Dibley and ran toward them. They called
in answer to his shout, and she could see Dibley pointing out to them
the way Eaton had gone. The men, scattering themselves at intervals
along the edge of the wood and, under Avery's direction, posting others
in each direction to watch the road, began to beat through the bushes
after Eaton. She sat watching; she put her cold hands to her face;
then, recalling how just now Eaton's hand had clung to hers, she
pressed them to her lips. Avery came running back to her.

"You drove him out here, Harriet!" he charged. "Dibley says so."

"Him? Who?" she asked coolly.

"Eaton. Dibley did not know him, but describes him. It can have been
no one else. He was hurt!" The triumph in the ejaculation made her
recoil. "He was hurt and could not drive, and you drove him out"--his
tone changed suddenly--"like this!"

For the first time since she had left the garage she was suddenly
conscious that she was in her night-dress with only a robe and
slippers. She drew the robe quickly about her, shrinking and staring
at him. In all the miles she had driven that night with Eaton at her
side, she never a moment had shrunk from her companion or thought how
she was dressed. It was not the exaltation and excitement of what she
was doing that had prevented her; it went deeper than that; it was the
attitude of her companion toward her. But Avery had thought of it, and
made her think of it, at once, even in the excitement under which he
was laboring.

He left her again, running after the men into the woods. She sat in
the car, listening to the sounds of the hunt. She could see, back of
her, in the light of the burning bridge, one of the armed men standing
to watch the road; ahead of her, but almost indistinguishable in the
darkness, was another. The noise of the hunt had moved further into
the woods; she had no immediate fear that they would find Eaton; her
present anxiety was over his condition from his hurts and what might
happen if he encountered those he had been pursuing. In that
neighborhood, with its woods and bushes and ravines to furnish cover,
the darkness made discovery of him by Avery and his men impossible if
Eaton wished to hide himself. Avery appe