CHAPTER XXXVI.
JERRY WOOD When he was at the old Drew place before, Logan had told him of Jerry Wood's place, five miles to the north among the hills; and to this he now directed his horse, riding at a merciless speed, as if he strove to gain, from the swift succession of rocks and trees that whirled past him, new thoughts to supplant the ones which already occupied him.
He reached in a short time a little rise of ground below which stretched a darkly wooded hollow, and in the midst the trees gave back from a small house, a two-storied affair, with not a light showing.

He wished to announce himself and his name at this place under the pretence of asking harbourage for the brief remainder of the night.

The news of what he had done at Drew's place could not have travelled before him to Wood's house; but the next day it would be sure to come, and Wood could say that he had seen Bard--alone--the previous night.

It would be a sufficient shield for the name of Sally Fortune in that incurious region.
So he banged loudly at the door.
Eventually a light showed in an upper window and a voice cried: "Who's there ?" "Anthony Bard." "Who the devil is Anthony Bard ?" "Lost in the hills.

Can you give me a place to sleep for the rest of the night?
I'm about done up." "Wait a minute." Voices stirred in the upper part of the house; the lantern disappeared; steps sounded, descending the stairs, and then the door was unbarred and held a cautious inch ajar.