"I wanted to deliver him up to you myself as I said I would."
"You are wonderful!" murmured Riever.
"I went armed," said Pen. "And I forced him to come with me. That's all."
Riever carried her hand to his lips. "You are a woman in a thousand!" he cried. "I never heard of such pluck!"
Pen pulled her hand away. "Please! Please!" she murmured. "I can't stand it! ... Not to-night!"
He eagerly snatched at the little promise she held out. "Ah, I won't press you," he said amorously. "I know how you must be feeling. Tender-hearted woman and all that. Cuts you all up to have to give up a man to justice. But believe me, he's a bad one through and through. You've done a service to all decent people. You'll soon see that yourself."
Pen sighed with relief, that he had so ready an explanation of her agitation. "There's something else I must tell you," she went on. "As I was bringing Counsell along the beach a man interfered between us. I think it was one of the detectives. I suppose he wanted to share in the reward. Anyhow the two men fought on the beach. I let them fight it out. I helped Counsell because he was my prisoner. And he got the best of the other man and tied him up. I suppose he's lying there yet. Half way between the wharf and the lighthouse. As soon as it was over I forced Counsell to come along with me just the same as before."
Riever laughed loudly. "What a woman you are!" he cried. "You've earned that reward ten times over! Don't you worry. Nobody else shall touch a cent of it!"
That clear-eyed little familiar inside Pen whispered to her: "This is all very well, but as soon as he has time to think it over, he'll begin to see the holes in your story. You must get the money out of him to-night if you can."
But how could she bring herself to speak of it?