"Won't come, eh?" cried the man. "What's the bloomin' reason, I'd like to know?"
He came closer and then caught sight of Margaret. For a second he stared in amazement; then uttered an exclamation.
"You! How did you get here?"
"Oh!" she fairly screamed. She recognized Matlock Styles, and knew not what to say. For some reason she felt as does the bird in the net of the fowler.
"This is bloomin' strange," went on the Englishman. "I thought you were down in the village, under the care of the doctors."
"I was," she managed to falter.
"How did you get here—run away?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I—I do not know. I—they have found me out! They are going to hang me, or electrocute me! I—I couldn't stand it!"