“A price is set on my head,” the bushranger answered with a grim smile.
Houghton stood silent for a moment, breathing hard. Then he rejoined: “You are bold to come here openly.”
“If I couldn’t come here openly I would not come at all,” answered the other. “After what I have told you,” he added, “will you take me in and let me speak with your wife?”
Houghton’s face turned black, and he was about to answer angrily, but Cayley said: “On my honour—I will play a fair game,” he said.
For an instant their eyes were fixed on each other; then, with a gesture for Cayley to follow, Houghton went towards the house.
Five, minutes later Houghton said to his wife: “Alice, a stranger has come.”
“Who is it?” she asked breathlessly, for she read importance in his tone.
“It is the horseman we saw on the hillside.” His eyes passed over her face pityingly. “I will go and bring him.”
She caught his arm. “Who is it? Is it any one I know?”
“It is some one you know,” he answered, and left the room. Bewildered, anticipating, yet dreading to recognise her thoughts, she sat down and waited in a painful stillness.