“Where is he now?”

“At home, or ought to be.”

“Show me the house.”

In ten minutes the two were face to face.

The result was not altogether satisfactory to the detective.  Though he used all his skill in his manipulation of this kind-hearted ferryman, he got very little from him but the plain fact that the woman insisted upon taking to the road when she heard that the train-service had stopped; that he could not persuade her to wait till daylight or to listen for a moment to what he had to say of the danger and terrors awaiting her in the darkness, and the awful loneliness of the hills.  She didn’t fear nature even at its worst, and she knew these hills better than many who had lived among them for years.  She was bound to go, and she went.

This was six hours ago.  Asked to explain the interest he had shown in her, it soon became evident that he was in complete ignorance of her identity.  He had simply, on their first trip over, seen that she was middle-aged, suffering and much too good and kind to be followed up by enemies and wicked police officials.  True, he had rowed them over in her pursuit in the early part of the day, but that was because he had not known their business.  When on returning he had learned it, he made up his mind to help her out with a warning even if it kept him up all night.  He had not expected to bring her back with him, but she had insisted upon his doing so, saying that she had friends in the mountains who would look after her.  He saw that she was dreadfully in earnest, for she had not stopped to get her hat and would not have had so much as an extra stitch with her if she had not taken the precaution to hide a bag of things somewhere in the bushes near the factory, in anticipation of some such emergency.  And he couldn’t resist her.  She made him think of a sister of his who had had a dreadful time of it in the world and was now well out of it, thank God!

When the ferryman heard that a reward of hundreds of dollars was waiting for the man who succeeded in bringing her before the police officials in New York, he betrayed some chagrin, but even this did not last.  He was soon declaring with heartfelt earnestness that he didn’t care anything about that.  It was peace of mind he wanted, and not money.

When Mr. Gryce left him, it was with an even slower step than usual.  Peace of mind!  How about his own peace of mind?  Was he trailing this poor unfortunate from pillar to post, for the reward it would bring him?  No.  With his advancing years money had lost much of its attraction.  Nor, if he knew himself, was he particularly affected by the glory which attends success.  Duty, and duty only, drove him on—­to elucidate his problem and merit the confidence put in him by his superiors.  If suffering followed, that was not his fault; his business was to go ahead.

It was in this frame of mind that he prepared himself for the automobile trip he saw before him.