第51章 A MAN OF DEVON(8)

"Somebody's been in the orchard, and gone off down to the cove." He ran on down the path.I, too, ran, horribly uneasy.In front, through the darkness, came the spaniel's bark; the lights of the coastguard station faintly showed.I was first on the beach; the dog came to me at once, her tail almost in her mouth from apology.There was the sound of oars working in rowlocks; nothing visible but the feathery edges of the waves.Dan said behind, "No use! He's gone."His voice sounded hoarse, like that of a man choking with passion.

"George," he stammered, "it's that blackguard.I wish I'd put a bullet in him." Suddenly a light burned up in the darkness on the sea, seemed to swing gently, and vanished.Without another word we went back up the hill.John Ford stood at the gate motionless, indifferent--nothing had dawned on him as yet.I whispered to Dan, "Let it alone!""No," he said, "I'm going to show you." He struck a match, and slowly hunted the footsteps in the wet grass of the orchard."Look--here!"

He stopped under Pasiance's window and swayed the match over the ground.Clear as daylight were the marks of some one who had jumped or fallen.Dan held the match over his head.

"And look there!" he said.The bough of an apple-tree below the window was broken.He blew the match out.

I could see the whites of his eyes, like an angry animal's.

"Drop it, Dan!" I said.

He turned on his heel suddenly, and stammered out, "You're right."But he had turned into John Ford's arms.

The old man stood there like some great force, darker than the darkness, staring up at the window, as though stupefied.We had not a word to say.He seemed unconscious of our presence.He turned round, and left us standing there.

"Follow him!" said Dan."Follow him--by God! it's not safe."We followed.Bending, and treading heavily, he went upstairs.He struck a blow on Pasiance's door."Let me in!" he said.I drew Dan into my bedroom.The key was slowly turned, her door was flung open, and there she stood in her dressing-gown, a candle in her hand, her face crimson, and oh! so young, with its short, crisp hair and round cheeks.The old man--like a giant in front of her--raised his hands, and laid them on her shoulders.

"What's this? You--you've had a man in your room?"Her eyes did not drop.

"Yes," she said.Dan gave a groan.

"Who?"

"Zachary Pearse," she answered in a voice like a bell.

He gave her one awful shake, dropped his hands, then raised them as though to strike her.She looked him in the eyes; his hands dropped, and he too groaned.As far as I could see, her face never moved.

"I'm married to him," she said, "d' you hear? Married to him.Go out of my room!" She dropped the candle on the floor at his feet, and slammed the door in his face.The old man stood for a minute as though stunned, then groped his way downstairs.

"Dan," I said, "is it true?"

"Ah!" he answered, "it's true; didn't you hear her?"I was glad I couldn't see his face.

"That ends it," he said at last; "there's the old man to think of.""What will he do?"

"Go to the fellow this very night." He seemed to have no doubt.

Trust one man of action to know another.

I muttered something about being an outsider--wondered if there was anything I could do to help.

"Well," he said slowly, "I don't know that I'm anything but an outsider now; but I'll go along with him, if he'll have me."He went downstairs.A few minutes later they rode out from the straw-yard.I watched them past the line of hayricks, into the blacker shadows of the pines, then the tramp of hoofs began to fail in the darkness, and at last died away.

I've been sitting here in my bedroom writing to you ever since, till my candle's almost gone.I keep thinking what the end of it is to be; and reproaching myself for doing nothing.And yet, what could Ihave done? I'm sorry for her--sorrier than I can say.The night is so quiet--I haven't heard a sound; is she asleep, awake, crying, triumphant?

It's four o'clock; I've been asleep.

They're back.Dan is lying on my bed.I'll try and tell you his story as near as I can, in his own words.

"We rode," he said, "round the upper way, keeping out of the lanes, and got to Kingswear by half-past eleven.The horse-ferry had stopped running, and we had a job to find any one to put us over.We hired the fellow to wait for us, and took a carriage at the 'Castle.'

Before we got to Black Mill it was nearly one, pitch-dark.With the breeze from the southeast, I made out he should have been in an hour or more.The old man had never spoken to me once: and before we got there I had begun to hope we shouldn't find the fellow after all.We made the driver pull up in the road, and walked round and round, trying to find the door.Then some one cried, 'Who are you ?'

"'John Ford.'

"'What do you want?' It was old Pearse.

"'To see Zachary Pearse.'

"The long window out of the porch where we sat the other day was open, and in we went.There was a door at the end of the room, and a light coming through.John Ford went towards it; I stayed out in the dark.

"'Who's that with you?'

"'Mr.Treffry.'

"'Let him come in!' I went in.The old fellow was in bed, quite still on his pillows, a candle by his side; to look at him you'd think nothing of him but his eyes were alive.It was queer being there with those two old men!"Dan paused, seemed to listen, then went on doggedly.

"'Sit down, gentleman,' said old Pearse.'What may you want to see my son for?' John Ford begged his pardon, he had something to say, he said, that wouldn't wait.

"They were very polite to one another," muttered Dan....

"'Will you leave your message with me?' said Pearse.

"'What I have to say to your son is private.'

"'I'm his father.'

"'I'm my girl's grandfather; and her only stand-by.'

"'Ah!' muttered old Pearse, 'Rick Voisey's daughter?'

"'I mean to see your son.'

"Old Pearse smiled.Queer smile he's got, sort of sneering sweet.

"'You can never tell where Zack may be,' he said.'You think I want to shield him.You're wrong; Zack can take care of himself.'

"'Your son's here!' said John Ford.'I know.' Old Pearse gave us a very queer look.