Again Kate silently shook her head. The man was pressing her hard. All her woman's soul was crying out for her to fling every consideration to the winds, and yield to the impulse of the love stirring within her. But something held her back, something so strong as to be quite irresistible.

The man went on. He was fighting that last forlorn hope amid what, to him, seemed to be a sea of disaster.

"No. You have told me that before," he said, almost to himself. "Then why," he went on, his voice rising with the intensity of his feelings.

"Why--why----? But no, it's absurd. You tell me you don't--you can't love me."

For one brief instant Kate's eyes were shyly raised to his. They dropped again at once to the brown head of the horse beside her.

"I have told you nothing--yet," she said, in a low voice.

The man s.n.a.t.c.hed a brief hope.

"You mean----?"

Kate looked up again, fearlessly now.

"I mean just what I say."

"You have told me nothing--yet," the man repeated. "Then you have something--to tell me?"

Kate nodded and pushed Peter's head aside almost roughly.

"The man I can care for, the man I marry must have no thought of hurt for Charlie Bryant in his mind."

"Then you----"

Kate made a movement of impatience.

"Again, I mean just what I say--no more, no less."

But it was Fyles's turn to become impatient.

"Bryant--Charlie Bryant? It is always Charlie Bryant--before all things!"

Kate's eyes looked steadily into his.

"Yes--before even myself."

The man returned her look.

"Yet you do not love him as--I would have you love me?"

"Yet I do not love him, as you would have me love you."

The man thrust out his arms.

"Then, for G.o.d's sake, tell me some more."

The insistent Peter claimed Kate once more. His long face was once more thrust against her arm, and his soft lips began to nibble at the wrist frill of her sleeve. She turned to him with a laugh, and placed an arm about his crested neck.

"Oh, Peter, Peter," she said smiling, and gently caressing the friendly creature. "He wants me to tell him some more. Shall I? Shall I tell him something of the many things I manage to learn in this valley? Shall I try and explain that I contrive to get hold of secrets that the police, with all their cleverness, can never hope to get hold of? Shall I tell him, that, if only he will put Charlie out of his mind, and leave him alone, and not try to fix this--this crime on him, I can put him on the track of the real criminal? Shall I point out to him the absurdity of fixing on this one man when there are such men as...o...b..ien, and Stormy Longton, and my two boys, and Holy d.i.c.k, and Kid Blaney in the place? Shall I? Shall I tell him of the things I've found out? Yes, Peter, I will, if he'll promise me to put Charlie out of his mind. But not unless. Eh? Not unless."

The man shook his head.

"You make the condition impossible," he cried. "You have faith in that man. Good. I have overwhelming evidence that he is the man we are after. Until he is caught the whisky-running in this place will never cease."

Kate refused to display impatience. She went on talking to the horse.

"Isn't he obstinate? Isn't he? And here am I offering to show him how he can get the real criminals."

Fyles suddenly broke into a laugh. It was not a joyous laugh. It was cynical, almost bitter.

"You are seeking to defend Bryant, and yet you can, and will, put me on the track of the whisky-runners. It's farcical. You would be closing the door of the penitentiary upon your--friend."

Kate's eyes flashed.

"Should I? I don't think so. The others I don't care that for." She flicked her fingers. "They must look to themselves. I promise you I shall not be risking Charlie's liberty."

"I'll wager if you show me how I can get these people, and I succeed--you will."

The angry sparkle in the woman's eyes died out, to be replaced with a sudden light of inspiration.

"You'll wager?" she cried, with an excited laugh. "You will?"

The policeman nodded.

"Yes--anything you like."

Kate's laugh died out, and she stood considering.

"But you said my conditions were--impossible. You will leave Charlie alone until you capture him running the whisky? You will call your men off his track--until you catch him red-handed? You will accept that condition, if I show you how you can--make good with your--headquarters?"

The man suddenly found himself caught in the spirit of Kate's mood.

"But the conditions must not be all with you," he cried, with a short laugh. "You are too generous to make it that way. If I accept your conditions, against my better judgment, will you allow me to make one?"

"But I am conferring the benefit," Kate protested.

"All of it? What about your desire to protect Bryant?"

Kate nodded.

"What is your condition?"

Fyles drew a deep breath.

"Will you marry me after I have caught the leader of the gang, if he be this man, Bryant? That must be your payment--for being wrong."