of the man, disclosing his
regular, clean teeth.

Eileen drew herself up stiffly.

She went to the door and opened it to allow him to pass out of her
life as he had come into it. But as he turned to go, he started back
at a sound in the dark.

The tall, athletic figure of a man loomed up, blocked the way and
stepped into the kitchen beside them.

Eileen gasped and clutched at her bosom in terror.

"Mr. Brenchfield," she cried in sudden anger, "what do you mean?
You--you have been watching. I didn't think you were a spy, although
after all, possibly I did, for I intentionally held back the man you
are after."

Brenchfield ignored her remark and pointed with his finger at the
fugitive, who came forward, his eyes staring as if he were seeing an
apparition.

"Great God,--you!" exclaimed the young man. Then with a catching sound
in his throat, he sprang at the burly, well-fed man before him.

Brenchfield was taken completely by surprise. He staggered against the
side of the door, as thin claw-like fingers found his throat and tried
to stop the vital air. The fingers closed on his windpipe too tightly
for comfort.

Eileen cried out and tried to go between, but she was thrust aside.

The men swayed together, then Brenchfield's hands went up, catching
the other by the wrists in a firm hold. There was a momentary
struggle, the runaway's grip was broken and he was flung to the
floor.

Brenchfield turned to Eileen.

"Miss Pederstone, have you gone crazy trying to hide this man? Don't
you know he is a runaway; a dangerous convict? The police--blind
fools--didn't tumble to your nervousness, but I caught on. I knew you
had him hidden in the wood-box."

The hunted man rose slowly from the floor and staggered forward,
gasping for breath. He gave Brenchfield a look of loathing.

"Graham," he said brokenly, "may the good God forgive you, for I never
shall."

He threw out his thin arms and looked at them, while tears of
impotence came into his eyes. He clenched his hands and grit his
teeth. "And may the devil, your friend, protect you," he continued
threateningly, "when these grow strong again."

Brenchfield looked him over with indifference.

"My good fellow, you'll excuse me! You have wheels in your head. I
don't know you from a hedge-fence. Damn it!" he suddenly flared
angrily, "I don't want to know you. Get out; quick! before I help you
along, or put you in the hands of your friends down the hill who are
so a