He also was almost whispering as he uttered the last words.

She drew a sharp breath and looked at him. "You--you--are going to let
him go?" she said, incredulously.

He did not answer. His eyes were drawing hers with a magnetism she could
not resist. And they thrilled her--they thrilled her!

"The odds are dead against him," he said again, after a moment. "Is it--a
bargain?"

Her heart gave a queer little jerk within her. She stood motionless for
a space. Then, with a little quivering smile, she very, very slowly gave
him her hand.

He took it into his great brown one, and though his touch was wholly
gentle she felt the force of the man throbbing behind it, and it seemed
to surge all around and within her.

He stood for a second as if irresolute or uncertain how to treat her.
Then, with a wordless sound that needed no interpretation, he pushed
back the sleeve from the place whence he had sucked the poison. It showed
only a little red now. He bent very low until his lips pressed it again.
Then for one burning moment they neither moved nor breathed.

The next thing that Dot realized was the passing of his great figure
through the doorway out of her sight. She saw him don his slouch hat as
he went.