She looked from one to the other. “I came for Dr. Pine.”
Vickers, with the quick intelligence of affection, guessed her errand. “Someone is ill?”
“Miss Sylvia, sir. It is nothing to signify, I think. A little feverish and hot, and my mistress—”
Vickers was down the ladder in an instant, with scared face.
Pine caught the girl's round firm arm. “Where have you been?” Two great flakes of red came out in her white cheeks, and she shot an indignant glance at Blunt.
“Come, Pine, let the wench alone!”
“Were you with the child last night?” went on Pine, without turning his head.
“No; I have not been in the cabin since dinner yesterday. Mrs. Vickers only called me in just now. Let go my arm, sir, you hurt me.”
Pine loosed his hold as if satisfied at the reply. “I beg your pardon,” he said gruffly. “I did not mean to hurt you. But the fever has broken out in the prison, and I think the child has caught it. You must be careful where you go.” And then, with an anxious face, he went in pursuit of Vickers.
Sarah Purfoy stood motionless for an instant, in deadly terror. Her lips parted, her eyes glittered, and she made a movement as though to retrace her steps.