The only road in passed directly in front of it, full in the
glare of the watchfire. Beyond it, to the right, lay only a narrow
stretch of rough greenbelt, then again the ground rose, rocky and
untenable. Perhaps they might creep along in the far shadows, where
the uneven turf met stone. But one false step, one noisy balk on the
part of the animal, already restive, and they were as good as caught.
Stephen stared directly at him. "We don't."
Michael felt his blood run cold. "Stephen! You're not thinking of
betraying---"
"Of course not. If I wanted to turn you in, and try to reach Earl
Arthur, I'd have only to raise my voice and we'd be surrounded at
once. I will admit that I'd thought of it. But your way has certain. .
. advantages."
In a brief moment of unobscured moonlight, Michael saw that the
Englishman's face had resumed something of its domineering cruelty,
and realized that the tables had been turned once more. But there was
something else at work there as well, some deep inner conflict, not
yet resolved. And he knew, for all the anger and fear that now welled
up in him.
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