Yet as a cornered hare will turn and give battle, desperately, to her eager foes, the woman made a frantic rush as though to pass the avenging figure which stood in her path; and as she did so Major Carstairs moved forward and plucked the black hood with no gentle hand from the face it had so far partially concealed.
And as with wildly beating pulses Anstice bent forward to catch a glimpse of the mysterious visitor he knew that his surmise, unlikely as it had seemed, had been correct; that by a stroke of luck the expert, Clive, had been able to point unerringly to the clue which was to solve the mystery of those vile letters and restore to an innocent woman the fair name which had been so unjustly smirched.
For the hooded figure was none other than Tochatti.
* * * * *
"My God! Then it was you!" Major Carstairs' tone was so full of disgust, of loathing, of the just indignation of a righteously angry man that even Tochatti cowered in his grip; and as Anstice came forward the other man turned to him with an expression of wrath which quite transfigured his face. "Look at her, Anstice, the miserable, degraded creature! To think that she has been with my wife all these years--hanging over Cherry night and day--and all the time plotting this infamous thing ... by the way, where is that letter?"
He broke off suddenly and Anstice came a step nearer the two.
"I see it, sir!" He had caught sight of it in the woman's clenched hand, and with a smart and unexpected blow on her wrist forced her fingers to open and release that which they held. "Here it is--will you take it? I can look after her all right."
"No--but just see what the address is, will you?" Major Carstairs had regained his self-control, and now stood quiet, alert, cool, as though on parade. "May as well know who was her chosen victim this time."
"Oh, my old friend Carey--you know, the Vicar of Littlefield." Anstice tossed the envelope on to a chair out of reach. "He was the first one honoured, I believe, and possibly was to have been the last!"
All this time the woman had stood silent, her black eyes snapping, her breast heaving stormily. Now she turned on Anstice fiercely and poured out a stream of vituperative Italian which conveyed little or nothing to his mind. Seeing that she made no impression she redoubled her efforts, and finally her voice rose to a scream.