"I'm so glad—oh, so glad!" cried the girl.
"It's a fortune thrown away," said one of the men, moodily.
"Yes, and a bad name, too," said she, with flashing eyes.
"We're beggars for life, anyhow," growled another of the men.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Matalette. "Nell's right—if we're not tracked and caught, I'll never be sorry that we sunk the accursed business for ever. And, considering our narrow escape, and how it happened, I don't think we're very gentlemanly to sit here bemoaning our luck. Mr. Crewne," continued Matalette, crossing to the yellow-haired figure in front of the fire, "you've saved me—what can I give you?"
The young preacher recovered himself, and replied, briefly:
"Your soul."
Matalette winced, and, in a weak voice, asked:
"Anything else?"
Crewne looked toward Helen; Helen blushed, and looked a little frightened; Crewne blushed, too, and seemed to be clearing his throat; then, with a mighty effort, he said: