She gave a great start at his words.  “You—­you are not a smuggler!” she said.

He drew her on.  “I am a good many things,” he said, easily, “and the king of this rat-run amongst them.  There’s no one knows it as well as I do.”

Her heart sank.  “You said—­you said yesterday—­you had lived straight!” she said, in a low voice.

“Did I?  But what does it matter to you how I live?” With a touch of recklessness he put the question.  “If Fletcher Hill managed to put the official seal on me, what would it matter to you—­now?”

There was almost a note of anger in his voice, yet his hand still held hers in the same close, reassuring grasp.  She could not be afraid.

“It would matter,” she said at last.

“I wonder why?” said Bill Warden.

“Because—­we are friends,” she said.

He made a sharp sound as of dissent, but he did not openly contradict her.  They were nearing the opening, and the ground was rough and broken.  She stumbled once or twice, and each time he held her up.  Finally they came to a flight of steps that were little more than notches cut steeply in the rock.

“I shall have to carry you here,” he said.

Dot looked upwards with sharp dismay.  The rocky wall rose twenty feet above her, the rough-hewn steps slanting along its face.  For the first time her heart misgave her.

“What a dreadful place!” she said.

“It’s the only way out,” said Warden, “unless we tramp underground nearly half-way to Wallacetown!”

“Can’t we go back?” she said, nervously.

“What!  Afraid?” He gave her hand a sudden squeeze.

She looked at him and caught the blue fire of his eyes as he bent towards her.  Something moved her, she knew not what.  She surrendered herself to him without a word.

Once more she hung upon his shoulder, clinging desperately, while he made that perilous ascent.  He went up with amazing agility, as if he were entirely unencumbered.  She felt the strength of his great frame beneath her, and marvelled.  Again the magnetic force of the man possessed her, stilling all fear.  She shut her eyes dizzily, but she was not afraid.

When she looked up again they were in the open.  He had set her on her feet, and she stood on the rugged side of a mountain where no vestige of a path or any habitation showed in any direction.  For the first time he had relinquished all hold upon her, and stood apart, almost as if he would turn and leave her.

The brief twilight was upon them.  It was as if dark wings were folding them round.  A small chill wind was wandering to and fro.  She shivered involuntarily.  It sounded like the whispering of an evil spirit.  The fear she had kept at bay for so long laid clammy hands upon her.

Instinctively she turned to the man for protection.  “How shall we get away?” she said.