She felt as if a wave of fire had swept over her. She swayed a little, throbbing from head to foot.
"I have rather a good memory," he said, as she found no words. "You're not—vexed with me on that account, I hope?"
An odd touch of wistfulness in his voice brought her eyes up to his face. She fought for speech and answered him.
"Of course not! Why should I? It—is a very long time ago, isn't it?"
"Centuries," said Warden, and smiled again upon her reassuringly. "But I never forgot you and your little farm and the old dog. Have you still got him?"
She nodded, her eyes lowered, a choked feeling as of tears in her throat.
"He'd remember me," said Warden, with confidence. "He was a friend. Do you know that was one of the most hairbreadth escapes of my life? If Fletcher Hill had caught me, he wouldn't have shown much mercy—any more than he would now," he added, with a half-laugh. "He's a terrific man for justice."
"Surely you're safe—now!" Dot said, quickly.
"If you don't give me away," said Warden.
"I!" She started, almost winced. "There's no danger of that," she said, in a low voice.