Part 80 (2/2)

They walked several paces before Anne spoke again. ”You will think me very strange, but I have had a fright. I--I want you, Nap, to--to understand and not think me foolish or laugh at me.”

”I couldn't do either if I tried,” said Nap. ”Who has been frightening you? Tawny Hudson?”

”Yes, Tawny Hudson.” Anne was still breathless; she glanced nervously over her shoulder. ”Shall we walk a little faster? He--he is lurking in those trees, and do you know I don't think he is safe? I think--I can't help thinking--that he is lying in wait for you to--to do you a mischief.”

Nap stopped dead. ”That so? Then I reckon I will go and deal with him at once.”

”Oh, no!” she gasped. ”No! Nap, are you mad?”

He gave her a queer look. ”By no means, Lady Carfax, though I believe I should be if I went any farther with you. You stay here while I go and investigate.”

He would have left her with the words, but on the instant desperation seized Anne. Her strained nerves would not bear this. She caught his arm, holding him fast.

”You must not! You shall not! Or if you do I am coming with you. You--you are not going alone.”

”I am going alone,” Nap said; but he stood still, facing her, watching her as he had watched her on that day long ago when he had lain helpless in her arms in the snow, the day that revelation had first come to her shrinking heart. ”I am going alone,” he repeated very deliberately. ”And you will wait here till I come back.”

She felt that he was putting forth his strength to compel her, and something within her warned her that he was stronger in that moment than she. She did not understand his ascendency over her, but she could not help being aware of it. Her agitated hold upon his arm began to slacken.

”Oh, don't go!” she entreated weakly. ”Please don't go! I can't bear it. It--it's too much. Nap, if--if any harm comes to you, I--I think it will kill me.”

There came a sudden gleam in his sombre eyes that seemed to stab her, but it was gone instantly, before he spoke in answer.

”Lady Carfax, you are not foolish--you are sublime! But--be wise as well.” Very quietly he extricated his arm from her clinging hands and turned to go. ”Don't watch me,” he said. ”Go on to the bridge and wait for me there.”

He was gone. Blindly she obeyed him; blindly she moved towards the bridge that spanned the stream. She was trembling so much that she could hardly walk, but almost mechanically she urged herself on. No other course was open to her.

She reached the bridge, and leaned upon the handrail. She thought the beating of her heart would suffocate her. She strained her ears to listen, but she could hear nought else; and for a time she actually lacked the physical strength to turn and look.

At last, after the pa.s.sage of many minutes, she summoned her sinking courage. Faint and dizzy still, she managed to raise her head. The moonlight danced in her eyes, but with immense effort she compelled herself to look back.

The next instant utter amazement seized and possessed her, dominating her fear. Nap was standing just beyond the outspreading boughs of the cedar, a straight relentless figure, with the arrogance of complete mastery in every line, while at his feet grovelled and whimpered the great half-breed, Tawny Hudson.

Nap was speaking. She could not hear what he said, but spell-bound she watched, while a curious sensation of awe tingled through her. The man was so superbly self-confident.

Suddenly she saw him stoop and take something from his prostrate enemy. A sharp doubt a.s.sailed her. She saw the wretched Tawny cringe lower and cover his face. She saw the moonlight glint upon the thing in Nap's hand.

He seemed to be considering it, for he turned it this way and that, making it flash and flash again. And then abruptly, with a swift turn of the wrist, he spun it high into the air. It made a s.h.i.+ning curve, and fell with a splash into the stream. She saw the widening ripples from where she stood.

But she did not stay to watch them. Her attention was focussed upon the scene that was being enacted before her.

It was very nearly over. Tawny Hudson had lifted his head, and she saw submission the most abject on his upraised face. He seemed to be pleading for something, and after a moment, with the faintest shrug of the shoulders, Nap lifted one hand and made a curious gesture above him. The next instant he turned upon his heel and came towards her, while Tawny Hudson got up and slunk away into the shadows.

Anne awaited him, standing quite motionless. She knew now what had happened. He had grappled with the man's will just as once he had grappled with hers. And he had conquered. She expected him to approach her with the royal swagger of victory, and involuntarily she shrank, dreading to encounter him in that mood, painfully aware of her own weakness.

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