"Centuries," said Warden, and smiled again upon her reassuringly. "But I
never forgot you and your little farm and the old dog. Have you still got
him?"

She nodded, her eyes lowered, a choked feeling as of tears in her throat.

"He'd remember me," said Warden, with confidence. "He was a friend. Do
you know that was one of the most hairbreadth escapes of my life? If
Fletcher Hill had caught me, he wouldn't have shown much mercy--any more
than he would now," he added, with a half-laugh. "He's a terrific man for
justice."

"Surely you're safe--now!" Dot said, quickly.

"If you don't give me away," said Warden.

"I!" She started, almost winced. "There's no danger of that," she said,
in a low voice.

"Thank you," he said. "I've gone fairly straight ever since. It hasn't
been a very paying game. I tried my luck in the West, but it was right
out. So I thought I'd come back here, and that was the turning-point.
They took me on at the Fortescue Mine. It's a fiendish place, but I
rather like it. I'm sub-manager there at present--till Harley goes."

"Ah!" She looked up at him again. "He is a dangerous man. He hates you,
doesn't he?"

"Quite possibly," said Warden, with a smile. "That mine is rather an
abode of hate all round. But we'll clean it out one of these days, and