The young man gazed at her as she expressed her admiration.

"He isn't here to-night?" he remarked.

Eileen turned her eyes on him sharply, as if she had sensed something of a suspicious nature in his query. But she shook the thought from her and laid her mind bare.

"No!--daddy was called away this afternoon. He won't be back until to-morrow, noon.

"This violin," reverted Eileen, as if endeavouring to interest her guest and keep his thoughts away from the misery of his own condition as long as possible, "was the last work of a very famous Italian violin maker, who disappeared mysteriously and was never heard of afterwards. It has a most beautiful tone, but for one note, and that one note is hideous. Ugh!--I hate it."

She shuddered. "I would have destroyed it long ago only my father prizes it as a great curio and as an heirloom."

The convict showed deep interest.

"Isn't it strange that a beautiful instrument like this should have a discordant note in it that no one seems to be able to explain away?"

she asked, as they stood together near the window, losing themselves in their interest.

"Yes,--it is strange," returned the man, examining the violin closely.

"I have read of something similar somewhere. The discord, I think, is called the _wolf note_, and it is well named. I believe its presence is difficult to explain, and such an instrument has occasionally been produced by the best violin makers. They usually destroyed them, as the discord is unalterable, making the instrument, of course, unmarketable as a music producer."

Eileen remained in thought for a while, then she held out her hand for the violin, took it from the man and went to the wall where she hung it up, as if dismissing a distasteful subject.

Back to the young man's face came the hopeless look of remembrance. "I had almost forgotten myself," he remarked. "Thank you! I must be off.

I should not be here. I--I should never have intruded."

"One moment!" said Eileen. "The air is chilly and you have nothing but that thin, torn, cotton shirt on your back. Get into this! It is an old sweater of mine; it is loose and big. It will keep the cold out."

"No! You have already done more than I can ever hope to pay back. I might get caught with it on----"

"But you must," she put in imperiously. "I have several of them. This is the oldest of those I have. You are not depriving me of anything, and you will be glad of it before the morning, for it is cold up here at nights."

He took it from her with reluctance, pushed his arms into it and drew it over his head and shoulders.

"Thank you!" he said in a quiet voice. "I was sick and in prison--I was anhungered--I was thirsty--I was naked. I don't know exactly how it goes," he apologised, "but it is something like that and it certainly does apply to you, miss."

His mood changed. He turned up part of the sleeve of the sweater and put it to his lips.

Eileen's face took on a flood of colour despite herself.

A smile flitted across the unshaven face of the man, disclosing his regular, clean teeth.

Eileen drew herself up stiffly.

She went to the door and opened it to allow him to pa.s.s out of her life as he had come into it. But as he turned to go, he started back at a sound in the dark.

The tall, athletic figure of a man loomed up, blocked the way and stepped into the kitchen beside them.

Eileen gasped and clutched at her bosom in terror.

"Mr. Brenchfield," she cried in sudden anger, "what do you mean?

You--you have been watching. I didn't think you were a spy, although after all, possibly I did, for I intentionally held back the man you are after."

Brenchfield ignored her remark and pointed with his finger at the fugitive, who came forward, his eyes staring as if he were seeing an apparition.

"Great G.o.d,--you!" exclaimed the young man. Then with a catching sound in his throat, he sprang at the burly, well-fed man before him.

Brenchfield was taken completely by surprise. He staggered against the side of the door, as thin claw-like fingers found his throat and tried to stop the vital air. The fingers closed on his windpipe too tightly for comfort.

Eileen cried out and tried to go between, but she was thrust aside.

The men swayed together, then Brenchfield's hands went up, catching the other by the wrists in a firm hold. There was a momentary struggle, the runaway's grip was broken and he was flung to the floor.

Brenchfield turned to Eileen.

"Miss Pederstone, have you gone crazy trying to hide this man? Don't you know he is a runaway; a dangerous convict? The police--blind fools--didn't tumble to your nervousness, but I caught on. I knew you had him hidden in the wood-box."

The hunted man rose slowly from the floor and staggered forward, gasping for breath. He gave Brenchfield a look of loathing.

"Graham," he said brokenly, "may the good G.o.d forgive you, for I never shall."

He threw out his thin arms and looked at them, while tears of impotence came into his eyes. He clenched his hands and grit his teeth. "And may the devil, your friend, protect you," he continued threateningly, "when these grow strong again."

Brenchfield looked him over with indifference.

"My good fellow, you'll excuse me! You have wheels in your head. I don't know you from a hedge-fence. d.a.m.n it!" he suddenly flared angrily, "I don't want to know you. Get out; quick! before I help you along, or put you in the hands of your friends down the hill who are so anxious to renew your acquaintance."

The young man stared fearlessly into the eyes of Graham Brenchfield, wealthy rancher, cattleman, grain merchant and worthy Mayor of Vernock. Then his lips parted in a strange smile, as he threw up his head.

He turned to Eileen.

"Guess I've _got_ to go now. I have my marching orders."

"Come on;--enough of this--git!" put in Brenchfield roughly, stepping up in a threatening manner.

The fugitive ignored the interruption.

"Good-bye, Miss--Miss Pederstone--and, remember this from a convict who doesn't count:--as surely as there is a wolf-note in some violins, so surely is there a wolf-note in some men. Strike the wolf-note and you set the devils in h.e.l.l jumping."

In the next moment he pa.s.sed out at the door and down the dusty highway leading to Vernock.

Graham Brenchfield stood looking after him until the night shut him out.

Eileen Pederstone stared in front of her with eyes that saw no outward thing.

At last Brenchfield broke the silence.

"It was rather unwise--foolish--harbouring such a man as that; and your father from home."

"Yes?" queried Eileen, with a slow intonation of resentment.