"I'm glad!" Neil's voice came to him softly, as though he scarcely dared
to speak the words aloud. After a moment he added, "Have you got a
pencil, Nat? I would like to leave a little note for Winnsome."
Nathaniel found both pencil and paper in one of his pockets and Neil
dropped upon his knees in the mud beside the table. Ten minutes later he
turned to Nathaniel and a great change had come into his face.
"She always seemed like such a little child to me that I never
dared--to--tell her," he faltered. "I've done it in this."
"How will you get the note to her?"
"I know the jailer. Perhaps when he comes to bring us our dinner I can
persuade him to send it to her."
Nathaniel thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers dug into
Obadiah's gold.
"Would this help?" he asked.
He brought out a shimmering handful of it and counted the pieces upon
the table.
"Two hundred dollars--if he will deliver that note," he said.
Neil stared at him in amazement.
"If he won't take it for that--I've got more. I'll go a thousand!"
Neil stood silent, wondering if his companion was mad. Nathaniel saw the
look in his face and his own flushed with sudden excitement.
"Don't you understand?" he cried. "That note means Heaven or hell for
Winnsome--it means life--her whole future! And you know what this cell
means for us," he said more calmly. "It means that we're at the end of
our rope, that the game is up, that neither of us will ever see Marion
or Winnsome again.
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