"It was you!" I cried, kneeling beside him," it was your hand
that shot Sir Maurice Vibart?"
"Yes," he answered, his voice growing very gentle as he went on,
"for Angela's sake--my dead wife," and, fumbling in his pocket,
he drew out a woman's small, lace-edged handkerchief, and I saw
that it was thickened and black with blood. "This was hers," be
continued, "in her hand, the night she died--I had meant to lay
it on her grave--the blood of atonement--but now--"
A sudden crash in the hedge above; a figure silhouetted against
the sky; a shadowy arm, that, falling, struck the moon out of
heaven, and, in the darkness, I was down upon my knees, and
fingers were upon my throat.
"Oh, Darby!" cried a voice, "I've got him--this way--quick--oh,
Darb--" My fist drove into his ribs; I struggled up under a
rain of blows, and we struck and swayed and staggered and struck
--trampling the groaning wretch who lay dying in the ditch. And
before me was the pale oval of a face, and I smote it twice with
my pistol-butt, and it was gone, and I--was running along the
road.
"Charmian spoke truth! O God, I thank thee!"
I burst through a hedge, running on, and on--careless alike of
being seen, of capture or escape, of prison or freedom, for in my
heart was a great joy.
I was conscious of shouts and cries, but I heeded them no more,
listening only to the song of happiness my heart was singing: "Charmian spoke truth, her hands are clean. O God, I thank
thee!"
And, as I went, I presently espied a caravan, and before it a
fire of sticks, above which a man was bending, who, raising his
head, stared at me as I approached. He was a strange-looking
man, who glared at me with one eye and leered jocosely with the
other; and, being spent and short of breath, I stopped, and
wiping the sweat from my eyes I saw that it was blood.
"How--is Lewis?" I panted.
"What," exclaimed the man, drawing nearer, "is it you?--James!
but you're a picter, you are--hallo!" he stopped, as his glance
encountered the steel that glittered upon my wrist; while upon
the silence the shouts swelled, drawing near and nearer.
"So--the Runners is arter you, are they, young feller?"
"Yes," said I; "yes. You have only to cry out, and they will
take me, for I can fight no more, nor run any farther; this knock
on the head has made me very dizzy."