Agnes had come out silently, as anyone must have come over that velvet-soft earth, which much trampling only made the softer. In the gloom she stood just behind Mrs. Reed. That pure-minded lady did not know that she was there, and was unable to see the rolling warning in her sister’s eyes.
“Would you mind walking over to the stage-office with me, Mr. Bentley?” asked Agnes. “I want to engage passage to Meander for tomorrow.”
On the way to the stage-office they talked matters over between them. Her purpose in going to Meander was, primarily, to enlist the sheriff of the county in the search for Dr. Slavens, and, remotely, to be there when her day came for filing on a piece of land.
“I made up my mind to do it after we came back 137 from the cañon,” she explained. “There’s nothing more to be hoped for here. That story the police told us only strengthens my belief that a crime has been committed, and in my opinion that chief knows all about it, too.”
She said nothing of Boyle and the start that his salutation had given her. Whatever Bentley thought of that incident he kept to himself. But there was one thing in connection with Boyle’s visit which he felt that she should know.
“The Governor’s son told Walker that he saw the doctor late last night in about the same condition as that policeman described,” he said. “It came up when Walker asked Boyle to keep an eye open and let us know if he happened to run across him.”
“Well, in spite of the high authority, I don’t believe it,” said she with undisturbed conviction.
For a little while Bentley walked on beside her in silence. When he spoke there was the softness of reverence in his voice.
“If I had the faith of a good woman in such measure as that,” said he, “I’d think I was next door to heaven!”
“It is the being who inspires faith that is more admirable than the faith itself, it seems to me,” she rejoined. “Faith has lived in many a guilty heart–faith in somebody, something.”