“I’m safe enough,” said Cunningham bitterly, “but I’m run out of the hills.”
“Best thing, maybe,” said Gray. “I’m hoping, but I think there’ll be fighting there tonight. A posse’s going to raid the Strangers after dark.”
“I’m going to raid the hills tonight,” said Cunningham fiercely, “and bring Maria away with me. I’ll marry her in spite of all the Strangers in creation.”
Gray grunted as he heaved to his feet. “You’re a fool, Cunningham, and I’m another. If you go, I go too. I might learn something, anyhow.”
Cunningham poured out the story of what had happened to him during the day, as they made their way down to the hotel. The sole objection to him lay in the fact that if Maria loved him, some day she would tell him who the Strangers were. And she did love him. Vladimir was the only outsider who knew their secret and he was threatening to disclose it, on what penalty Cunningham did not know.
“Maybe,” said Gray quietly, “it would be a good thing if Vladimir did tell what he knows. But I suspect he won’t, and for your sake I’d like to see you safely married to that girl you’re so keen about before he did start to talk. I’m with you tonight, Cunningham.”
“Better stay behind,” said Cunningham curtly. “They’ll be watching for me.”
“No,” said Gray quietly. “I sent some wires today and they may not be strong enough. Two of us might get her out where one wouldn’t. And I’m thinking that if you do marry her and she does tell you the secret of the Strangers, it might avert a tragedy. I’ve done all I can without certain knowledge. Now, watch your tongue when we reach the hotel.”
Cunningham ignored the raging astonishment with which Vladimir saw him, and was savagely amused at the worriment the man showed. Vladimir had sent his servant after Cunningham to kill him, and had been so certain of the attainment of that object that he had already broadcast a tale of Cunningham’s death which laid it at the Strangers’ door.