Unfortunately Riever wanted to talk. It wore Pen out to talk to him because she couldn't be frank. Real frankness was unknown to Riever, though he could be amusing. His eyes never lost their watchfulness, nor his lips their superficial smile. This morning he was not amusing. For several days Pen had been aware that his temper was suffering as a result of the continued non-success of his efforts to run down Counsell. To Pen's secret dismay he commenced to talk about it now, watching her keenly meanwhile.
"What do you think of the situation at the Point?" he asked.
"How do you mean?" asked Pen.
"Counsell appears to have given us the slip."
Pen said to herself: "I must be bold. Half measures will never deceive him." She said to him calmly: "I hope he has."
Riever bit his lip. "I wish I knew what it was about murder that appeals to women's imaginations," he sneered.
"About murder, nothing," said Pen coolly. "Not to this woman. But no true woman could help sympathizing with a man hunted by a pack."
"Even if he was guilty of a foul crime?"
Pen was not to be betrayed into declaring her belief in Don's innocence. "Even if he was guilty," she said.
"Then what about justice?"