“Now, then, stranger, give an account of yourself.”

“I tell you I came here to see Betsy Pearce.”

“You were not at this cabin before to-night.”

“I was not.”

“Where do you hail from?”

“That’s my business.”

“That means you won’t tell”

“Yes.”

“You may be sorry anon, good man; and now answer!  What was your business with Betsy Pearce?”

“I will not answer.”

“You had no business with Tom Pearce?”

“I did not.”

“Stranger, your story don’t work.  Betsy Pearce has been dead and in her grave these two years.”

“I know that!”

“Ah, you knew it?”

“Yes, I learned so since my arrival on the coast.”

Renie had returned to the interior of the cabin, and one of the men said: 

“Is the rope ready?”

“Yes,” came the answer.

“Do you hear that, stranger?”

“I do.”

“Rig a swing cross, boys.  We’ll fix this fellow, and teach all comers that this is the wrong coast for such scoundrels!”

The detective fully realized the men were in earnest, and that, unless some fortunate accident intervened. it would indeed be an “up you go” with him.

It would be hard to conceive a more embarrassing and critical position.  The detective could not appeal to Renie openly as the appeal would reveal his real identity; and no opportunity appeared for a quiet revelation of himself to the girl.

He was led to the place of execution; the rope was thrown over his head, when Renie came forth from the cabin.  She ran forward to where the victim stood.

“Hold!  Hold!” she said, “what are you about to do?”

“Hang your father’s assailant!”

“Does the man confess his guilt?”

“No.”

“Let me speak to him.”

The girl pressed forward close to the doomed man, and addressing him, said: 

“Are you innocent or guilty?”

“It makes no difference now; but tell me are you Renie Pearce?”

“I am Renie Pearce.”

“I have an important communication to make to you before I die.”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, speak!”

“What I communicate must be spoken in your ear alone, as it concerns you only.”

“Go and see what he has to say,” commanded the leader of the lynching party.

The girl stepped close to the man and the lyncher stepped back.

In a low tone the detective said: 

“Be calm and do not betray that you know me!”

The girl felt her heart stand still, and a cry rose to her lips.

“Hold,” whispered the officer, “or you will destroy all chances for escape.”

The girl’s face assumed the hue of death, a thrilling suspicion flashed through her mind.

“You can save me, Renie, but if you betray my real identity I am doomed!”