Pete grinned. "They're no' the kin' o' gentry I hae mony dealings with."
"What for are ye hiding frae them?" the woman asked.
Foster saw the others' eyes were fixed on him and he must, to some extent, satisfy their curiosity. He did not think he could have convinced conventional Englishmen, or perhaps Canadians, but these Scots were different. They were certainly not less shrewd than the others, but while sternly practical in many ways they had imagination; moreover, they were descendants of the Border cattle-thieves.
"I'm not really hiding from the police, but from people who have better grounds for fearing them. I owe nobody anything and, so far as I know, have done nobody wrong."
There was silence for a moment or two and he recognized that his statement was very incomplete, but somehow thought the others did not discredit it.
"If I could tell you the whole story, I would, but that's impossible just now," he resumed. "Other people, honorable, upright people, are involved. Of course, the thing looks suspicious, and you know nothing about me, but what I mean to do is not against the law."
They were silent yet, but after a few moments Foster saw his host glance at the woman.
"What is it ye mean to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to Newcastle to try to get some information and papers that will help me to save a friend from serious trouble. That's my first object, but I hope to find out something about a crime in Canada, by which another friend of mine suffered terribly. I may have to steal the papers, and if I get them, expect I shall have to deal with a gang of dangerous men, who will try to take them back. That's why I want Pete; but he'll probably find it a risky business."
Foster waited anxiously for a reply. He was not justified in expecting it to be favorable, but he did so. The woman seemed to ponder, but presently turned to Pete.