"Was Barker not drowned then, after all?" he asked. "It is very queer, but I could almost swear that I caught a glimpse of his face last night as I went back to the inn. I was rather late coming home from a friend's and someone was lighting his pipe at the corner of this road as I passed. The match flared up for a second, and I thought to myself at the time, 'How like Jerry,' as we used to call him. I sang out, 'Who goes there?' but the man had vanished before I got to the turn. If so be that your husband is still living as you give me to understand, I guess it was really he that I met, and that he's staying here with you now. By the way, I remember Barker used to be a chum of Field's. The last time we three were together was in Wattie Long's house in the backwoods. It's a night I couldn't well forget. It would be odd if we met again here in Sunbury after so many years."
"Oh, please don't say anything to Mr. Field about it!" cried Madelaine piteously. "Ben, I must throw myself on your mercy, as I believe you wish to be my friend. You must know all, if you were in the hut that night, so I need not hide anything from you. The kindest deed you can do both to my husband and me is to say nothing about this unexpected meeting. Gerald is dead to all intents and purposes, and you can do no good to anyone by publishing his existence to the world."
"You may be sure I wouldn't lift a finger to hurt you or any of yours, Mrs. Power," answered Ben earnestly. "I have too much cause to bless you for all you did for me. If Barker wants to lie low, I'm not the one to give him away."
"I trust you," replied Madelaine, "and I am sure you will not mention to anyone that you have seen him here. Only I would just like you to understand, Ben, before I leave, that my dear husband was not conscious of what he did that fatal night when you last met. It was from Mr. Field's lips that he learnt the consequences of his hasty blow. He must have been maddened by the strong liquor which had flowed so freely among you, for he had no spite against poor Mr. Long, and can recollect nothing of the quarrel which laid the old man dead at his feet. As you know, he tried to drown himself in despair, after he realized what he had done, but God in His mercy saved him and gave him another chance. Sorely has the terrible crime blighted both his life and mine, but he has sincerely repented, and indeed is now going to make amends, if he can, for his sin."
For a moment Ben stood as if meditating upon her words.
"And has Gerald Barker been in hiding all these years because of this?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Madelaine, "and I am in mortal dread lest Mr. Field should hear of him being in England, and give information which might lead to his immediate conviction. Until yesterday, I myself believed him to have perished in the waters, and we have only just been restored to one another again. Like yourself, Ben, he has lately come to see things differently, and has made up his mind to return to California at once, so as to give himself up voluntarily before a magistrate. I am counting more than I can say on the few precious days that remain for us to be together on the voyage, and I think I should break my heart if he was snatched away from me now."
"Never you fear," was the answer, as Ben took his departure. "I'm your friend to the backbone, Mrs. Power, and sorry should I be to harm you either by word or deed."
It would, however, have disturbed Madelaine greatly had she known that Green's first act on leaving her was to walk straight to the Vicarage, where he requested a few moments' conversation with the clergyman, who was also a Justice of the Peace. She would have been still more anxious had she seen the two men set out almost at once in the direction of Farncourt.
"Are the American gentlemen still with Mr. Field?" asked Ben, as the butler opened the door.