“Do you mean—that he did not—that she is—a good girl?”
“Absolutely.”
He sat down weakly and passed a shaking hand over his face, which had begun to twitch and jerk again as it had on that night when his vengeance was thwarted.
“I may as well tell you that I know she’s more than that. She’s honest and high-principled. I don’t know why I’m saying this, but it was on my mind and I was half distracted when you came. She’s in danger to-night, though—at this minute. I don’t dare to think of what may have happened, for she’s risked everything to make reparation to Roy and his friends.”
“What?”
“She’s gone to the Sign of the Sled alone with Struve.”
“Struve!” shouted the gambler, leaping to his feet. “Alone with Struve on a night like this?” He shook her fiercely, crying: “What for? Tell me quick!”
She recounted the reasons for Helen’s adventure, while the man’s face became terrible.
“Oh, Kid, I am to blame for letting her go. Why did I do it? I’m afraid—afraid.”
“The Sign of the Sled belongs to Struve, and the fellow who runs it is a rogue.” The Bronco looked at the clock, his eyes bloodshot and dull like those of a goaded, fly-maddened bull. “It’s eight o’clock now—ten miles—two hours. Too late!”