“I'll not disturb you with your cooking, Mrs. Owens. Go right on with it. I'll have a little chat with your son's wife. If she's from New York I want to ask her about some of my people up there——”
“All right,” Nance answered, “but don't you wake HIM! Go with her inter the shed-room.”
“We'll go on tip-toe!” the Doctor whispered.
Nance nodded, smiled and bent again over the oven.
Mary led him quickly through the living-room, head averted from the couch, and into the prison cell in which she had passed the night. The physician glanced with a startled look at the gold still scattered on the floor.
She seized his hand and swayed.
He touched the brown hair of her bared head gently and pressed her hand.
“Steady, now, child, tell me quickly.”
“Yes, yes,” she gasped, “I'll tell you the truth——”
He held her gaze.