“You are very tired; why do you not go and lie down?”
“If you don’t mind I would rather talk.”
He moved over nearer and seemed to get some comfort from my proximity, for he began without any further encouragement.
Herman, he said, had not kept close to the Outliers but with Mancha had scouted far to the left in the hope of coming on some trace of the Far-Folk’s secret camp, where he imagined Zirriloë might be hid. They had followed fruitlessly on faint clues, and finally with no clues at all, and had come to no conclusion except that the fugitives must be still on the Outlanders’ side of the Ledge. The track had gone far north of Windy Covers and there was no other passage known for so great a distance as to be impracticable.
“There is a way,” said I.
And as soon as I had said it I was overtaken with a swift certainty. This secret way by which Ravenutzi and the girl had gone must be the same one the wife had come through with her torn hands, venturing so much to ease her need of him by talking to me. I was so struck by the idea that, by just the time she had taken to wait for me at Windy Covers she had missed seeing Ravenutzi help the girl tenderly over that same trail, that I began at once to tell Herman about it, to his great amazement.
“You did that,” he said; “you talked to her and let her go, knowing what harm she had in her mind to do?”
“She was a desperate woman; she could have killed me before help came if I had given the alarm. In any case,” I protested, “I would not have given it, because she trusted me. But no harm will come to the Outliers. This is a private quarrel.”
“That poor girl,” he said, “if she should find her!”
“In that case,” said I, “would you back Ravenutzi to back his wanton or his wife?”