Part 19 (1/2)

”The part of an innocent man is too much for you to play; we won't force you into it. It will be a favor if you will have our baggage sent across here; needless to say, neither my daughter nor I can re-enter your house.” Then his self-control deserted him and he broke out in hot fury: ”I firmly believe you are the man who killed my son, and you shall not escape!”

”I think,” said Colston quietly, ”that is going too far.”

Making no answer, Prescott left them; and he was harnessing his horse outside when, somewhat to his astonishment, Muriel came toward him. A half-moon hung low above the bluff and the silvery light shone into her face, showing her warmth of color and the sparkle in her eyes. He thought she looked wonderfully attractive and his heart throbbed faster, but he knew he must hold himself in hand.

”Hadn't you better go back?” he asked. ”You have heard what your friends think of me.”

”What does that matter?” she exclaimed with feeling. ”I'm very angry with them. I can't let you go without saying that I know you could not have done what you have been wickedly accused of.”

”I'm glad. Thank you. It's a big relief to feel that you believe in me.

So long as I have that a.s.surance nothing else counts.”

”Harry Colston's not convinced; I believe he's trying to keep an open mind.”

”Is that so?” said Prescott. ”I don't expect much from him. He's the kind of man who's guided by appearances and seldom does anything out of the common.”

Muriel disregarded this.

”But you were very foolish in deceiving us. I can't understand yet why you did so.”

”I can only tell you that it was for Cyril's sake.”

”Oh,” she cried, ”it could not have been because of any benefit that you would get! That would never have tempted you.”

He read unshaken confidence in her eyes and it cost him a stern effort to refrain from reckless speech. Muriel was beautiful, but that was not all: she was generous and fearless, a loyal friend and a staunch partizan.

”Well,” Prescott confessed, ”when I explained, I was more afraid of you than of Jernyngham. I wanted to keep your good opinion, and I wondered whether you had only given it to me because you thought I was Cyril Jernyngham. From your friends' point of view Jack Prescott is a very different kind of person.”

Muriel blushed.

”Is it unpardonable that I was angry when I first found out the mistake?

Try to imagine with what ideas I have been brought up. But the feeling left me when I saw how merciless Jernyngham was; his hard words turned it into sympathy.”

”That is something to be thankful for, though it doesn't content me. I think you would be sorry for any one, even an enemy, who was in trouble and getting hurt.”

She grasped his meaning and looked at him steadily with an air of pride.

”Then must I tell you that I have as much faith in Jack Prescott as I had in the man whom I supposed to be Cyril Jernyngham? But you must justify my confidence. You have been wrongly and cruelly accused; don't you see the duty that lies on you?”

”Yes,” Prescott answered gravely; ”I have to clear myself. If there were no other reason than the one you have given, it would have to be done.

It's going to be a tough proposition, but I'll get about it very soon.”

”You know that I wish you all success,” she told him softly.

Then she held out her hand and turned away. When she had gone Prescott went on with his work and after buckling the last strap he found that he had forgotten a parcel Mrs. Leslie had asked him to deliver. Hurrying back to the house for it, he met Gertrude Jernyngham in the hall and she stopped where the light fell on her, instead of avoiding him as he had expected. There was suspicion in her eyes.

”I see you agree with your father,” he said boldly.