"Won"t you say one word? Not even that you forgive me?"
Her voice was soft and gentle--the voice he remembered having heard so often in the bygone days--the days for whose sake she had appealed to him to come to her. He leaned forward in his chair, staring through the little slit of s.p.a.ce between the blind and the window, intent upon distinguishing what it was he saw, resenting what he believed to be her efforts to beguile him.
"Do you hate me so much?"
Scarcely above a whisper the words reached him, a whisper with tears in it, and his heart shrank at the sound. He turned quickly towards her.
She started impulsively to her feet and held out her hands to him.
"Fred!" she exclaimed.
He sat unmoved, for the shadow in the distance was growing more and more distinct, and the suspicion with which he regarded her drove away every particle of commiseration, and made him blind to the emotion welling up in her eyes, hostile to the pathos in her voice.
She clasped her hands and let them drop limply in front of her as she sank into her chair again.
"Oh, I am so lonely, so lonely," she murmured, "I don"t know what to do.
If you would only help me. I know I behaved horribly to you, vilely; but surely--surely you have some pity for me in my misfortune. I have no one to turn to--no one--no one. If you would only help me to understand--if you would only talk the matter over with me, it would be some relief."
"There can be no benefit in talking over what has pa.s.sed--the best thing is to forget it ever happened. That is what I have striven to do. If you returned my letters of your own free will, you were merely exercising a right to which you were perfectly ent.i.tled. You preferred Eustace to me, that is all."
"All?" she echoed in a tone of amazement. "All? Is that what you thought? Is that what you think?"
"What else can I think?" he retorted. "If you chose for yourself----"
She sprang up and faced him with widely opened, gleaming eyes.
"I did not," she cried. "I did not. There! Now you know. It was a----"
She stopped abruptly, staring with eyes so full of entreaty that he looked away from her lest the emotion roused by her words, by her att.i.tude and her eyes, carried him away at a moment when he required above all things complete self-control. To avoid her eyes he turned once more to the window--the moving shadow had grown clearer--it had split in twain, and he could distinctly see the forms of two hors.e.m.e.n riding swiftly towards the bank.
The sight sent a chill through him; he recoiled from the woman whose pleading a moment before had thrilled him, recoiled from her as from some reptile. While she was appealing to him, pleading with him, the man she was expecting--whom she was even ready to vilify in order to throw dust in the eyes of the one who was a menace to him--was coming in response, probably, to a signal given by the clear, lamp-lit window-blind.
He faced her where she stood, his eyes hard and cold, his mouth set stern.
"I prefer not to hear anything further on the subject," he said in a measured tone. "It is a subject which does not now concern me."
"Fred!"
Despite his anger, despite the resentment the spectacle of those two riders had roused within him, the anguish in her voice cut him. Her eyes, fixed on his, were filled with intense sorrow, her face went ashen.
"Oh, Fred! I----"
She swayed as she stood, staggered, and sank into the chair between the lamp and the window, flinging her arms out over the table and burying her head upon them as she gave vent to a fit of sobbing. But as she moved, her shadow swept across the blind.
He looked out again upon the moonlit scene--the hors.e.m.e.n had pa.s.sed from the field of vision. He leaned forward to get a wider view, but there was no further sign of them--it was as though the shadow pa.s.sing across the blind had been a danger signal on which they had acted immediately it was given.
He wondered whether Brennan had seen them, whether he was also on the look out or was waiting hidden somewhere until he heard the warning shot. Harding was to fire in the event of anything happening. Ought he to fire now? Ought he to give the alarm or wait, lest the sound of the shot warned the two hors.e.m.e.n as well as alarmed Brennan?
Leaning forward, with his attention riveted as he gazed through the narrow slit, he scarcely noticed that Mrs. Eustace had ceased to sob--the sudden appearance of her head, in shadow, upon the blind, made him start to his feet.
"Put out that lamp," he exclaimed, but before she could move he was past her and had blown out the flame.
"Fred! What is it?" she asked in an agitated whisper.
"Silence," he said fiercely, as he crept back to the window and stooped to peer into the night.
Along the fence which formed the boundary of the bank"s ground, the fence Durham had pointed out as the one over which Eustace must have made his escape, he saw the figure of a man stealthily creeping.
He thrust his hand into the pocket where he had slipped the revolver Brennan had given him.
"Fred! Fred! What do you see?" he heard Mrs. Eustace whisper, and in the dim obscurity he saw her come to his side.
"Quiet," he said harshly.
Both her hands, trembling, touched his arm.
"Tell me," she whispered; "I will be brave. Who is it you see?"
The thin streak of moonlight falling through the narrow s.p.a.ce between the blind and the window glinted on the bright barrel of the revolver, as he drew it from his pocket.
She fell on her knees beside him, her arms flung round him, her voice in his ear.
"Oh, Fred--no, not that! Is it Charlie? Oh, don"t--don"t----"
He pushed her back roughly, his eyes straining to catch another glimpse of the creeping figure which had gone out of sight as he raised his revolver ready to fire.
"Oh, no, no! Don"t shoot him! Don"t, Fred, don"t! He----"
Her words ended in a shriek, for even as she spoke there appeared outside the window, showing clear with the moonlight falling full upon it, the face of a yellow-bearded man. Harding wrested himself free from her clinging arms, leapt to the window, and tore the blind away.
The form of the man, running swiftly, was disappearing amongst the bushes.
Heedless of the gla.s.s in front of him, of the terrified woman at his knees, Harding raised his revolver and fired.
As the shivered gla.s.s crashed to the ground, the report of other shots, fired in rapid succession, came from outside, and across the patch of gra.s.s, firing as he ran, Brennan dashed after the runaway.
Harding scrambled through the broken window and ran after him.
From behind the cl.u.s.tering shrubs which formed a screen in front of the chicken-run, there came the sound of horses galloping. Brennan stopped as he heard it. When Harding caught up to him, he was rapidly reloading his revolver.
"He"s slipped us," he cried. "The sub-inspector has my horse, and ordered me not to leave the bank till he came back. And there"s that scoundrel riding away from under our noses!"
"Did you see him?" Harding exclaimed.
"See him? Wasn"t I crawling on him round the house when she screamed out to him, and you fired? Another two minutes and I had him, yellow beard and all. Now we know who the man was who called at the bank to cash a cheque after hours. Anyhow, I"ll have the woman safe before she can do any more mischief. I"ll arrest her right away, and the girl as well. They"re both in the game, if you ask me."