"No such thing," said the landlady, with an indignant sniff. "He is a prisoner, but there's no further talk o' hangin'."
"Who says so?" and the farmer's scowling brows grew blacker.
"The young ladies say so, an' they both know him—knew him long ago."
"Aye, that I'll be bound, as to one of 'em, at any rate," he growled, eying Dorothy savagely. The girl's face was telling her secret, while she stood watching her husband turn for a parting smile as he rode off with the others.
"Where do she live?" Gilbert asked suddenly, jerking his thumb toward the doorway, in front of which Doak was now standing with the horses.
"Down at Marblehead, when they be at home; both of 'em live there," the landlady answered. "But they be stoppin' at Dorchester now, with friends, an' there's where they're bound for." With this she turned away, her manner showing that she desired no further parley with him.
The man stood for a few moments, as if reflecting upon what he had heard. Then, with one more glance at the two girls, he turned slowly about, and took his way to the stables of the inn.
CHAPTER XXXI
Doak and his charges had gone but a short distance when the sound of hoofs behind them caused all three to turn, wondering who might be approaching.