"We mus' not stay too long, Jeem 'Orton. Some one may come."
"Madame Horton?" he muttered, and went over to the door of Moira's room and listened. There was no sound. "Moira," he said again distinctly through the keyhole. "Will you unbolt the door?"
A small sound of footsteps moving, but they did not come toward the door.
"Moira," he repeated more loudly. "You must let me in. We are going away from here—at once."
No reply.
"It is as I suppose', Jeem 'Orton," whispered Piquette at his ear. "She does not wish to come."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I saw her, Jeem," she whispered. "I talk wit' 'er. It is 'opeless. I do not t'ink she will come. She is afraid."
"Afraid—of me?" he muttered incredulously. "I——"
"Not of you, mon vieux," returned Piquette. "Of 'erself!"