“Then it can’t be helped, and, after all, Courthorne wouldn’t talk, even if he wasn’t what he is,” said the lad. “You don’t know why, and I’m not going to tell you, but it wouldn’t become him.”
“You don’t mean Maud Barrington?” asked his companion.
“No,” said the lad with a laugh. “Courthorne is not like me. He has no sense. It’s quite another kind of girl, you see.”
[CHAPTER XXI—COLONEL BARRINGTON IS CONVINCED]
It was not until early morning that Courthorne awakened from the stupor he sank into, soon after Witham conveyed him into his homestead. First, however, he asked for a little food, and ate it with apparent difficulty. When Witham came in, he looked up from the bed where he lay, with the dust still white upon his clothing, and his face showed grey and haggard in the creeping light.
“I’m feeling a trifle better now,” he said; “still, I scarcely fancy I could get up just yet. I gave you a little surprise last night?”
Witham nodded. “You did. Of course, I knew how much your promise was worth, but in view of the risks you ran, I had not expected you to turn up at the Grange.”
“The risks!” said Courthorne with an unpleasant smile.
“Yes,” said Witham wearily; “I have a good deal on hand I would like to finish here, and it will not take me long, but I am quite prepared to give myself up now, if it is necessary.”
Courthorne laughed. “I don’t think you need, and it wouldn’t be wise. You see, even if you made out your innocence, which you couldn’t do, you rendered yourself an accessory by not denouncing me long ago. I fancy we can come to an understanding which would be pleasanter to both of us.”