At Ned's words a fear flashed into the girl's eyes.
"Your father and I have made rather slow progress in our mutual acquaintanceship. We got to know each other much better at Sparrow's. I cannot say the event has helped any. We are now enemies publicly acknowledged. At least your father so considers me. The clash was sharp and promises serious trouble ahead for us. It will hamper us not a little in our plans of the last few minutes."
"Ned!" she cried with lips a-tremble. "You did not fight? Not that?"
He looked at her, deeply troubled by the white face and the pain in her glance. She was looking at the scar on his cheek. He thought of the wager. A staggering regret swept over him. He was about to tell her the whole story, but now? No. She should not know all—just yet. Forcing a reassuring smile he replied:
"No. We did not fight. It was a touch and go but resulted in nothing more than a sharp brush with your father's gang. That scratch is from the boot of Bill Baird. I was able to restrain the Valley Gang, thanks to Easy Murphy's loyalty. Otherwise the worst would have happened. We did not fight and I am confident I can give you my promise that we never shall."
Immense relief filled the girl's eyes.
"You were in a hard place," said she, her look of strange comprehension searching his face. "You held your hand because—because of our love. I know it."
Her sure intuition astonished him, but before he could speak she continued:
"There is startling cause for cheer in all this, Ned. If you can prevent the terrible possibility I am thinking of, you can win Dad."
"How would you have me do it, Mary?" was his abrupt appeal.