“So Will’s struck it rich.” It was Peter’s astonished voice that answered her. The news had a peculiar interest for him. “Placer?” he inquired.
“Yes––and easy to work. But you won’t say a word about it, will you? He told me not to speak of it. And if he knew he would be so angry. I–––”
“Don’t worry, Eve,” broke in Jim, gently. “Your secret is safe with us––quite safe.”
Peter said nothing. The news had staggered him for a moment, and he was vainly trying to digest it. Jim rose from his seat and leaned against the table. His attempt had failed. She would have none of his help. 169 But his coming to that house had told him, in spite of Eve’s reassurance, that the gossip was well founded. There was trouble in Eve’s home, and it was worse than he had anticipated.
The girl eyed them both for a moment with a return of that fear in her eyes.
“Are you going now?” she inquired, with an anxiety she no longer tried to conceal. She felt so ill that it didn’t seem to matter what she said.
“We’re going to wait till Doc Crombie’s fixed you up,” said Peter, steadily. Then he added thoughtfully, “After that I’m going to fetch Will.”
Eve gasped. Swift protest rose to her lips, but it remained unspoken, for at that moment there came the sound of footsteps outside, and Elia led the forceful doctor into the room.
“Hey, Mrs. Henderson,” he cried, nodding at the two men. “Winged your head some. Let’s have a look,” he added, crossing to Eve’s side and glancing keenly at her wound. “Whew!” he whistled. “How did you do it? Eh?” he demanded, and Peter explained. The explanation was made to save Eve what both he and Jim knew to be a lie.
The doctor’s blunt scorn was withering.