He felt better after it; more of a man, as the poor fool told himself.
There was nothing to connect him with the robbery, he had got rid of the
jewel-case; it was well-nigh impossible that anyone should discover it;
he could remove it when the fuss was over; indeed, perhaps there would
be no need to deal with the jewels; the old man might be---It was all very plausible; but he had forgotten to take into account
that long arm of coincidence which so often upsets the plans of the most
astute criminal. And yet, in this case, the arm was not so very long.
For Derrick had acquired a habit of early rising during the experiences
in South America; the circus people were always up soon after sunrise,
and at the ranch most of the people were stirring at dawn, when the air
was cool and fresh. That morning, Derrick, who had slept soundly, as
your happy lover should sleep, rose and, leaving the inn, had sauntered
along the road until he came to the gate where Lady Gridborough had seen
him and Celia. Naturally enough, he passed into the wood; of course,
taking the path on which he had walked with Celia. He was thinking of
her, thinking of the future, of the joy that awaited him, and in that
clear, sunlit air, with the song of the birds in his ears, the
difficulties with which he was beset seemed very light and unimportant.
The girl he had loved was going to be his; that thought was quite enough
for such a morning. He had nearly reached the centre of the wood, when
he stopped to take out his pipe and pouch, and he was about to strike a
match, when he saw something white passing between the trees at a little
distance from him.
At first he thought it was Celia, and, with a leap of the lover's heart,
he took a step forward; then he stopped short; the figure was that of a
man in flannels; and a moment or two afterwards, he had recognised
Heyton. The disappointment was great; he had no desire to meet Heyton;
the sight of him recalled the bitter past; and Derrick stood, frowning
as he watched Heyton on his way to the lake. He saw Heyton stop and look
round him, and then he lost sight of him, for Heyton was bending down in
the act of hiding the jewel-case. When he rose, Derrick got a clear
sight of the man's face, and something in its expression impressed
Derrick curiously, painfully.
Nothing stops still in this world of ours; and men must go up or down.
It was evident to Derrick that Heyton had gone very much down since he
had last seen him. Heyton's face had coarsened, his lips had grown
looser and more sensual, there were bags under his eyes; but it was not
these grosser changes which struck Derrick so much, as the expression of
the man's face; it was that of one burdened by some oppression of mind
or body; it seemed to Derrick that the light, prominent eyes had in them
a look of fear, the look a man wears when he is hunted and driven.