Part 43 (1/2)

His tones had the cutting coldness of steel, and there was a sort of restrained cruelty in his every action.

”I suppose it would not be wise to be seen talking to you here,” was the woman's low reply. ”And, believe me, I have no desire to be seen with you again, ever. It was only your promise in the note that brought me here. Are you prepared to keep it if I walk a way with you?”

”I am! This is no more pleasant for me than for you, but it must be done. Come!”

He did not offer to touch her, nor did he turn his head more than half way in speaking to her. He seemed to be controlling himself by an effort, and she seemed to shrink away. Again she looked back, down the fast-darkening street, as though to make sure there was a way of escape--some one near on whom she could rely.

”Don't worry. I'll be there when you have your little talk,” whispered the colonel to himself.

”Suppose we walk up on The Heights,” suggested the man. ”We will not be disturbed, and--”

”Up there?” she gasped.

”Why not?” he asked, as they walked on, and the colonel, affecting a slowness in gait, heard the words. ”Just because you used to walk there in your--in other days,” he subst.i.tuted quickly, ”is no reason why you shouldn't now, is it?”

”Only--_memories_!” Her voice was very low.

”Memories? Bah!” The words were as though he spewed them from his mouth like a bitter taste. ”Come on!” and his tones were rough.

The woman looked at him a moment with eyes that seemed to burn through her veil, and then followed. The colonel pa.s.sed on ahead, slouched across the street once more, and lagged behind, so that he might follow.

The couple turned toward the outskirts of the village, where, on a hill, known locally as ”The Heights” there was a grove of trees. Below the hill, at one place cutting deep into it and making a precipitous cliff, was a little river. At the point where the stream had bitten into the hill it had washed for itself a defile, the bottom rock-covered, so that the waters swirled over it in foam.

The Heights was the favorite trysting place of lovers, and many were the pleasant spots there. With evening coming on, it was almost sure to be deserted, though later, if there was a moon, murmuring voices would mingle with the eclipse of the swirling waters in the gully below.

”Yes, it's a quiet place for a talk,” mused the colonel.

The man and woman pa.s.sed on. Behind them came the shadower, and behind him Aaron Grafton.

Up The Heights walked the leading pair, seemingly unaware of the presence of any one but themselves. Into the shadows they strolled, still stiff and uncompromising, both of them. At last the woman, halting near the edge of the cliff, beyond which the woods were thicker, faced the man.

”This is far enough,” she said, and she turned so that the fast-fading light of the west was on her veiled face. She did not raise the mesh.

”Yes, this is far enough, I suppose,” said the man, and there was a sneer in his tones. ”Too far, perhaps. But--”

”I did not come here to discuss anything with you but the matter you spoke of in your note,” cut in the woman. ”Did you bring my diamonds as you promised?”

”Yes, I have them.”

His voice was as cold as hers.

”Then give them to me and let me go. I don't know why I consented to meet you, except that you said you would give them only to me, personally. And I don't, even for that, know why I came here. I--”

”Possibly in memory of other days?” the man sneered.

”Never!” she answered bitterly. ”Oh, never that!”

”Well, as you choose,” he went on, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. ”But I have a few things I want to say to you, and I didn't want the whole village babbling about it. Too many know me here, so I kept out of sight as much as I could.”

”Say what you have to say, and quickly. Give me my diamonds, to which I have a right, and let me go. That is all I ask of you.”