He answered coldly, recalling a promise to protect Francois. He could, however, and did, tell her the truth in this without involving the youth. "When the third officer, my jailer, came to the cell and released my hands—well, I did the best I could, surprised him, got the keys and left him there in my stead. A little Jap trick for handling men that I learned in San Francisco long ago," he added.
Her dark eyes lingered on him not without a trace of admiration. "Mademoiselle is fortunate, indeed, in her champion," she murmured. "And yet that does not explain the preparations for departure—the provisions in the boat—other little details. How came you by that compass, for example?"
"It explains all that will be explained."
"Which means, once more, you do not trust me?" She shrugged. "Eh bien!" And again they went on in silence.
Toward noon, reaching a fringe of the forest, they found before them a wide open space where the ground was higher and dry, but the walking more difficult. The grass, long and tenacious, twined snake-like around their ankles; they had to go more slowly, but reached, at length, the top of the eminence. Here Mr. Heatherbloom stopped. They ate their biscuit and rested, but only for a brief while. Scanning the distance, in the direction they had come, he suddenly discerned moving forms on the farthest edge of the open space—forms which advanced toward them. No doubt as to their purpose could be entertained; his excellency had landed and was already in pursuit. A smoldering fire leaped from Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes while rage that she should thus be driven harder filled his breast. Fool! that he had not killed the prince when opportunity had offered that night in the cabin. His clemency might—probably would—cost her dear.
"We've got to go on, and faster," said the young man. His hands were clenched; his arms were stiff at his side. "Can you do it?" he asked Betty Dalrymple. She answered; standing in a green recess, she had never appeared more beautiful to him than in that moment of peril. Green and red things flashed behind her—tiny feathered creatures that shone like jewels. The dewdrops from the branches in sunless places were glistening brilliants in the gold of her hair. But he had no time to gaze. The figures were drawing nearer.
"You used to be able to run, Betty. It seems as if it's all my fault"—hoarsely—"but you'll have to do so now."
Again that ready response from her! Did she, in the excitement of the moment, call him by a Christian name not Horatio? He did not take cognizance of it; neither did Sonia Turgeinov seem to.
The latter spoke quickly: "I remain here."
"Of course," said Mr. Heatherbloom, with a glance back toward the open space.