“Horrible! horrible!” ejaculated Mrs. Dinneford. “What is to be done?” She gave signs of weakness and terror. Freeling observed her closely, then felt his way onward.
“We are in great peril,” he said. “There is no knowing what turn affairs will take. I only wish I were a thousand miles from here. It would be safer for us both.” Then, after a pause, he added, “If I were foot-free, I would be off to-morrow.”
He watched Mrs. Dinneford closely, and saw a change creep over her face.
“If I were to disappear suddenly,” he resumed, “suspicion, if it took a definite shape, would fall on me. You would not be thought of in the matter.”
He paused again, observing his companion keenly but stealthily. He was not able to look her fully in the face.
“Speak out plainly,” said Mrs. Dinneford, with visible impatience.
“Plainly, then, madam,” returned Freeling, changing his whole bearing toward her, and speaking as one who felt that he was master of the situation, “it has come to this: I shall have to break up and leave the city, or there will be a new trial in which you and I will be the accused. Now, self-preservation is the first law of nature. I don't mean to go to the State's prison if I can help it. What I am now debating are the chances in my favor if Granger gets a pardon, and then makes an effort to drive us to the wall, which he most surely will. I have settled it so far—”
Mrs. Dinneford leaned toward him with an anxious expression on her countenance, waiting for the next sentence. But Freeling did not go on.
“How have you settled it?” she demanded, trembling as she spoke with the excitement of suspense.
“That I am not going to the wall if I can help it.”