Mallalieu sat down and stared his hardest at Miss Pett. He felt himself becoming more confused and puzzled than ever.
“Look here, missis!” he said suddenly. “Let’s get a clear idea about things. You say you can keep me safe here until I can get away. How do you know I shall be safe?”
“Because I’ll take good care that you are,” answered Miss Pett. “There’s nobody can get into this house without my permission, and before I let anybody in, no matter with what warrants or suchlike they carried, I’d see that you were out of it before they crossed the threshold. I’m no fool, I can tell you, Mr. Mallalieu, and if you trust me—”
“I’ve no choice, so it seems,” remarked Mallalieu, grimly. “You’ve got me! And now, how much are you reckoning to get out of me—what?”
“No performance, no pay!” said Miss Pett. “Wait till I’ve managed things for you. I know how to get you safely away from here—leave it to me, and I’ll have you put down in any part of Norcaster you like, without anybody knowing. And if you like to make me a little present then—”
“You’re certain?” demanded Mallalieu, still suspicious, but glad to welcome even a ray of hope. “You know what you’re talking about?”
“I never talk idle stuff,” retorted Miss Pett. “I’m telling you what I know.”
“All right, then,” said Mallalieu. “You do your part, and I’ll do mine when it comes to it—you’ll not find me ungenerous, missis. And I will have that drop of whisky you talked about.”
Miss Pett went away, leaving Mallalieu to stare about him and to meditate on this curious change in his fortunes. Well, after all, it was better to be safe and snug under this queer old woman’s charge than to be locked up in Norcaster Gaol, or to be hunted about on the bleak moors and possibly to go without food or drink. And his thoughts began to assume a more cheerful complexion when Miss Pett presently brought him a stiff glass of undeniably good liquor, and proceeded to light a fire in his prison: he even melted so much as to offer her some thanks.
“I’m sure I’m much obliged to you, missis,” he said, with an attempt at graciousness. “I’ll not forget you when it comes to settling up. But I should feel a good deal easier in my mind if I knew two things. First of all—you know, of course, I’ve got away from yon lot down yonder, else I shouldn’t ha’ been where you found me. But—they’ll raise the hue-and-cry, missis! Now supposing they come here?”
Miss Pett lifted her queer face from the hearth, where she had been blowing the sticks into a blaze.
“There’s such a thing as chance,” she observed. “To start with, how much chance is there that they’d ever think of coming here? Next to none! They’d never suspect me of harbouring you. There is a chance that when they look through these woods—as they will—they’ll ask if I’ve seen aught of you—well, you can leave the answer to me.”
“They might want to search,” suggested Mallalieu.
“Not likely!” answered Miss Pett, with a shake of the poke bonnet. “But even if they did, I’d take good care they didn’t find you!”
“Well—and what about getting me away?” asked Mallalieu. “How’s that to be done?”
“I’ll tell you that tomorrow,” replied Miss Pett. “You make yourself easy—I’ll see you’re all right. And now I’ll go and cook you a nice chop, for no doubt you’ll do with something after all the stuff you had to hear in the court.”
“You were there, then?” asked Mallalieu. “Lot o’ stuff and nonsense! A sensible woman like you—”
“A sensible woman like me only believes what she can prove,” answered Miss Pett.
She went away and shut the door, and Mallalieu, left to himself, took another heartening pull at his glass and proceeded to re-inspect his quarters. The fire was blazing up: the room was warm and comfortable; certainly he was fortunate. But he assured himself that the window was properly shuttered, barred, and fully covered by the thick curtain, and he stood by it for a moment listening intently for any sound of movement without. No sound came, not even the wail of a somewhat strong wind which he knew to be sweeping through the pine trees, and he came to the conclusion that the old stone walls were almost soundproof and that if he and Miss Pett conversed in ordinary tones no eavesdroppers outside the cottage could hear them. And presently he caught a sound within the cottage—the sound of the sizzling of chops on a gridiron, and with it came the pleasant and grateful smell of cooking meat, and Mallalieu decided that he was hungry.
To a man fixed as Mallalieu was at that time the evening which followed was by no means unpleasant. Miss Pett served him as nice a little supper as his own housekeeper would have given him; later on she favoured him with her company. They talked of anything but the events of the day, and Mallalieu began to think that the queer-looking woman was a remarkably shrewd and intelligent person. There was but one drawback to his captivity—Miss Pett would not let him smoke. Cigars, she said, might be smelt outside the cottage, and nobody would credit her with the consumption of such gentleman-like luxuries.
“And if I were you,” she said, at the end of an interesting conversation which had covered a variety of subjects, “I should try to get a good night’s rest. I’ll mix you a good glass of toddy such as the late Kitely always let me mix for his nightcap, and then I’ll leave you. The bed’s aired, there’s plenty of clothing on it, all’s safe, and you can sleep as if you were a baby in a cradle, for I always sleep like a dog, with one ear and an eye open, and
