"Well, I'll help you, whether you like it or not," he said, with a laugh. "Young Millard has gone down into the woods. I followed him there not an hour ago."
I looked at the man doubtfully; I did not know what to believe. I was so utterly alone in this business of plotting and counterplotting, and I wanted so much to rely on some one for help and advice. I decided, however, that I would have nothing to do with him; with a nod I turned away.
"You'll be sorry," he called after me. "I could help you if you'd let me."
I took no notice of him; I went on my way steadily. I began even to regret that I had made that bombastic speech to him about snatching the two young people out of the clutches of Murray Olivant. I saw that there was the more need for hurry; I went on with long strides towards the wood.
After a long search I found the boy; he was making rough sketches of a part of the wood, not with any serious intention to work, I am convinced, but because he hoped that Barbara might pass that way. I stole upon him unawares; suddenly presented myself before him, and blurted out what I wanted to say.
"Mr. Millard, I have been looking for you everywhere," I said. "It is on account of Miss Barbara Savell."
He turned to me quickly. "Do you come from her?" he asked.
"Yes—and no," I faltered. "Last night, after you had gone, the man Olivant tried to insult her; I was so lucky as to be in the way—and I—I stayed near her for the rest of the night. You must take her away from that house at once."
"I'll go to the house first, and see Olivant," he exclaimed fiercely, as he began to pack up his things. "Tried to insult her, did he?" While he spoke he was savagely tugging at straps and buckles, in a violent hurry to start.