To which Linda's impatient rejoinder was: "Don't be silly."
"This is no place for you," Vassall went on earnestly; "I beg that you will go to Mrs. Worsley, and let us attend to this."
"No place for me?" Linda burst out. "What do you think I am, a doll? I can be as much help to Jack as you can!"
Vassall turned pale at the sound of the familiar name on her lips.
Garrod stood motionless, apparently neither seeing nor hearing.
"He's quiet enough now," said Jack rubbing his chin; "but you can't tell when he may break out again. A tent is no place to keep a madman. We'll have to tie him up, Vassall."
"Oh, we can't do that," murmured the other man. He all but wrung his hands. "This is too dreadful! Miss Linda, I beg of you! What will Sir Bryson say?"
Linda's eyes passed contemptuously over him. "What is there I can do?" she asked Jack.
"Find Jean Paul," he said.
As if evoked by the sound of his name, the half-breed issued at that moment from among the trees on their left, and approached them. If his designs had miscarried, he gave no sign of it. One could hardly have guessed that he harboured designs. His face was as smooth as velvet, his manner calm, respectful, inquiring.