“Good-bye, Miss––Miss Pederstone––and, remember this from a convict who doesn’t count:––as surely as there is a wolf-note in some violins, so surely is there a wolf-note in some men. Strike the wolf-note and you set the devils in hell jumping.”
In the next moment he passed out at the door and down the dusty highway leading to Vernock.
Graham Brenchfield stood looking after him until the night shut him out.
Eileen Pederstone stared in front of her with eyes that saw no outward thing.
At last Brenchfield broke the silence.
“It was rather unwise––foolish––harbouring such a man as that; and your father from home.”
“Yes?” queried Eileen, with a slow intonation of resentment.
“Unprotected as you were!”
“We girls would have little need for protection if you men were all as gentlemanly as he was. He seemed to be an old acquaintance of yours. Who is he?”
Brenchfield shrugged his shoulders.