Then the girl broke down. Wild thoughts had come and gone. If a weapon had been at hand she might, in obedience to the behest 287 of a wild and fiery nature, have stabbed the man who so calmly faced her. But she felt utterly helpless and her fear and despair became supreme.
“I––I’ll write whatever you want me to, if––if you promise not to tell!” she cried.
“I’m not quite prepared to accept conditions,” he answered. “I intend to show the paper to Ennis and to Miss Nelson. They have a right to know the truth. But I can promise that they will carry the matter no farther, and that I shall see that neither the sheriff nor the post-office authorities will interfere. There are but a few minutes left now.”
She rushed into the store again and went to the desk. Her father was no longer in the room. With feverish speed she wrote while the doctor bent over her, suggesting a word now and then. Finally she signed the paper and handed it to him.
“I think you had better give me those answers now,” he suggested. “Those directed to A. B. C.”
From Box 17 she took the letters and handed them over without a word, and the doctor carefully placed them in his pocket with the others.
“I think you’ve been very wise in taking my advice, Miss McGurn,” he told her. “It was the only way out of trouble. Isn’t that the freight’s whistle? I’ll hurry off. Good-day to you.”
He stepped quickly across the space that separated him from the station. On the platform Joe Follansbee greeted him pleasantly.
“A fine clear day, doctor,” said the station agent.