The last of
her courage seemed gone. She was limp, and terrified, and was looking up
at him in such a strange way that he was filled with alarm.
"I didn't tell him anything," she whispered, as if afraid he would not
believe her. "I didn't tell him you weren't that man--Mac--McKenna. He
heard you and Brokaw go when you passed my room. Then he went to the
men. I followed--and listened. I heard him telling them about you--that
you were a spy--that you belonged to the provincial police...."
A sound in the hall interrupted her. She grew suddenly tense in his
arms, then slipped from them and ran noiselessly to the door. There were
shuffling steps outside, a thick voice growling unintelligibly. The
sounds passed. Marge O'Doone was whiter still when she faced David.
"Hauck--and Brokaw!" She stood there, with her back to the door. "We
must hurry, _Sakewawin_. We must go--to-night!"
David looked at her. A spy? Police? Quite the first thing for Hauck to
suspect, of course. That law of self-preservation again--the same law
that would compel them to give up the girl to him to-morrow. He found
himself smiling at his frightened little companion, backed there against
the door, white as death. His calmness did not reassure her.
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