Part 59 (1/2)
”This is getting too deep for me, Wedron,” says O'Meara, when the door has closed behind Constance. ”What does it lead up to? For I take it your tactics mean something.”
Mr. Wedron laughs a low, mellow laugh.
”Things are shaping themselves to my liking,” he says, rubbing his hands briskly. ”We are almost done floundering, O'Meara. Thanks to Miss Wardour, I know where to put my hand when the right time comes.”
”I don't understand.”
”You will very soon. Now hear a prophecy: Before to-morrow night, Clifford Heath will send for you, and lay before you a plan for his defence. He will manifest a sudden desire to live.”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI.
TWO Pa.s.sENGERS WEST.
Late that night a man is walking slowly up and down the little footpath that leads from the highway, just opposite Mapleton, down to the river and close past that pretty, white boat house belonging to the Lamotte domain.
He is very patient, very tranquil in his movements, and quite unconscious that, crouched in the shadow, not far away, a small figure notes his every action.
Presently a second form emerges from the gloom that hangs over the gates of Mapleton, and comes down toward the river. Just beside the boat house it pauses and waits the man's approach.
The new comer is a woman. The night is not so dark but that her form is distinctly visible to the hidden watcher.
”Well,” says the man, coming close beside her, ”I am here--madam.”
”Yes,” whispers the woman. ”Have you--” she hesitates.
”Accomplished my task?” he finishes the sentence. ”Have you not proof up yonder that the work is done?”
The woman trembles from head to foot, and draws farther away.
”I am only waiting to receive what is now due me,” the man resumes. ”You need have no fears as to the future; like Abraham, you have been provided with a lamb for the sacrifice.”
Again a shudder shakes the form of the woman, but she does not speak.
”I must trouble you to do me a favor, Mrs. Burrill,” the man goes on.
”It is necessary that I should see the honorable Mr. Lamotte. So, if you will be so good as to admit me to Mapleton to-night, under cover of this darkness, and contrive an interview without disturbing the other inmates, you will greatly oblige me; but first, my two thousand dollars, if you please.”
With a sudden movement the woman flings back the cloak that has been drawn close about her face, and strikes with her hand upon the timbers of the boat house.
There is a crackling sound, a flash of light, and then the slow blaze of a parlor match.
By its light they gaze upon each other, and then the man mutters a curse.
”Miss Wardour!”
”Mr. Belknap, it is I.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Mr. Belknap, it is I.”]