Fast as the Wind: A Novel. Gould Nat

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      The man was startled; again the suspicious look came into his eyes. Would it ever be entirely absent, that haunted gaze; it was pitiable.

      "I don't want it if you don't care to give it to me."

      "I beg your pardon. You deserve my entire confidence. You are running grave risk for my sake, an unknown man, a stranger, worse – an escaped prisoner from Dartmoor."

      "Never mind the risk; we'll not trouble about that," said Brack.

      "Do you know what the consequences would be if it were known you had hidden me?"

      "I don't know and I don't care," said Brack.

      "Think of your mother."

      Brack laughed as he said: "She'll glory in what I've done when I tell her; she's Bill out there."

      "I forgot; that makes all the difference. And he's innocent."

      "Like you."

      "How do you know I am innocent?"

      "Yer face tells me. I'd trust a man like you anywhere and anyhow."

      "If ever I come into my own again, if ever my innocence is proved, I'll see to you and your mother for life, and I'll promise to do all I can for Bill, your brother."

      Brack's face glowed.

      "Damn me but you're a man!" he said and seized his hand. "I forgot, I'm a fool," he added, as the man winced. The pain from Brack's honest grip was intense.

      "I will tell you my name. You may have heard it before – we receive news sometimes – my brother is a famous rider. You are a bit of a sportsman?"

      "I am," said Brack. "I've had a tip for the races here, for the double, and I've got ten bob to put on; the gentleman who's goin' to ride gave it me. He says to me as I left the yacht – I'd rowed him out there – he says, 'Here, Brack, there's half a sov. for you. Back The Rascal for the double.' And I mean to."

      "The Rascal?"

      "That's the name of the horse – funny, isn't it?"

      "Who was the gentleman?"

      "The owner of the Sea-mew, the yacht lying at anchor in the bay."

      "The yacht with such beautiful lines, painted white? I just saw her as I came along by the wall before I met you, my good friend."

      "That's her. She's not big but she's a gem. She's been here several times."

      "And who is the owner?"

      "The same as rides Mr. Langford's horses at the races."

      "But you have not told me who he is."

      "Ain't I? No more I have! It's Mr. Picton Woodridge."

      The man stared at Brack; he seemed on the point of falling off his chair.

      "Picton Woodridge," he said in a hoarse voice.

      "Yes; have you met him in days gone by?" asked Brack.

      "He is my younger brother," said the man. "I am Hector Woodridge."

      It was Brack's turn to stare now. This man he had brought to his home Picton Woodridge's brother? Was it possible? This was indeed a strange chance! He peered into his companion's face, trying to trace a resemblance, and found one.

      "Yes," he said, "you're like him, or you were once."

      Hector Woodridge sighed.

      "Once," he said; "it all seems such a long while ago."

      "I remember, I recollect now," said Brack. "I wonder it did not strike me afore. Yer a Yorkshire family. I know, at Haverton. I was a boatman at Scarborough when it happened. I always said you were innocent; I call to mind the trial well. Yer Mr. Hector Woodridge, thank God for that; I see a way out of it all. You must bide here and I'll pick the night when I can get you away."

      "Get me away!" exclaimed Hector. "How, where shall I go?"

      "Leave that to me. There's a man on the watch here. His name's Carl Hackler. He's from Dartmoor, and he's prowling around here on the lookout – has been for a week or more."

      "I don't remember his name," said Hector.

      "Likely enough not; there's plenty of 'em there as you'd never see, but he's seen you, and he'd recognize you. I've fooled him once and I think he knows it; I'll have a stiff job to do it again; but I will do it, and you'll get clear away."

      "What is your plan?"

      Brack hesitated; he wondered if Hector Woodridge would care to go on board the Sea-mew, whether he would be afraid to implicate his brother. He decided it would be better for his purpose not to say what his plan was until he had his man safe in his boat on the way to the yacht.

      "I'll tell you that when the time's ripe. You'd best turn in and have some sleep; you look as though you could do with it."

      "I can. Where shall I go?"

      "In there," said Brack, pointing to a small room.

      "It is your room."

      "Never mind me. Go in and rest."

      Hector was dead beat. He opened the door, he was so exhausted he fell fast asleep before he had time to undress.

      Brack sat ruminating until an early hour. This discovery that his guest was Hector Woodridge stunned him, he could not comprehend it. He recollected all about the celebrated trial which resulted in Hector Woodridge being condemned to death for the murder of the husband of the woman he had become entangled with. All Yorkshire signed the petition for a reprieve and the sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life. He remembered how the shock killed Admiral Woodridge, Hector's father.

      Brack went to the old black horse-hair sofa and lay down. He was soon asleep, dreaming in a few minutes, strange dreams in which convicts, Dartmoor, the Sea-mew, The Rascal, Carl Hackler, and divers and other persons and places were mixed up in the most extraordinary manner.

      A knocking at the door roused Brack.

      Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, yawned, struggled to his feet. He had his sailor clothes on.

      Another knock.

      "Comin'. Don't be in such a hurry. Leave the milk can, yer fool."

      Another knock.

      "Must be deaf. Drat the lad, what's he wakin' an honest man up at this hour for?"

      He went to the door, unlocked it, pulled back the bolt, opened it, and found Carl Hackler standing before him.

      As Brack said afterward: "I wish I could 'ave pushed him into the harbor, me a'top of him."

      "'Morning, Brack. I want a boat; can you come quick?" said Carl.

      Brack's relief was so great that he gave a loud, startling laugh.

      "What the deuce is the matter with you? Have you suddenly gone mad?"

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