It is getting late, you know--past midnight already." "Bramfield!" she echoed with a start.

"Then--then we have been going north all this time ?" "We have been going north," he said.
She glanced around.

Her eyes were hunted.
"No," said Caryl.

"I haven't killed him.

He is sitting under the hedge about fifty yards up the road, thinking things over." He opened the door then abruptly, and she held her breath and became still and tense with apprehension.