Part 59 (1/2)

Tom was in the act of letting himself drop into the wood, when suddenly the watchers below saw him crouch down upon the wall, and lie motionless, as though listening intently.

”Hus.h.!.+” he whispered, leaning over. ”Some one is coming through the wood.”

The wind had died away and the storm subsided. Even from the lane they could hear the sound of feet, and of m.u.f.fled voices inside the grounds.

They all crouched down in the shadow of the wall. Tom lay flat upon the gla.s.s-studded coping, and no one looking from below could distinguish him from the wall itself.

The voices and the footsteps sounded louder and louder, until they were just at the other side of the boundary. They seemed to come from several people walking slowly and heavily. There was the shrill rasping of a key, and the wooden door swung back on its rusty hinges, while three dark figures pa.s.sed out who appeared to bear some burden between them. The party in the shadow crouched closer still, and peered through the darkness with eager, anxious eyes. They could discern little save the vague outlines of the moving men, and yet as they gazed at them an unaccountable and overpowering horror crept into the hearts of every one of them. They breathed the atmosphere of death.

The new-comers tramped across the road, and, pus.h.i.+ng through the thin hedge, ascended the railway embankment upon the other side. It was evident that their burden was a heavy one, for they stopped more than once while ascending the steep gra.s.sy slope, and once, when near the top, one of the party slipped, and there was a sound as though he had fallen upon his knees, together with a stifled oath. They reached the top, however, and their figures, which had disappeared from view, came into sight again, standing out dimly against the murky sky. They bent down over the railway line, and placed the indistinguishable ma.s.s which they bore carefully upon it.

”We must have the light,” said a voice.

”No, no; there's no need,” another expostulated.

”We can't work in the dark,” said a third, loudly and harshly.

”Where's your lantern, guv'nor? I've got a lucifer.”

”We must manage that the train pa.s.ses over right,” the first voice remarked. ”Here, Burt, you light it?”

There was the sharp sound of the striking of a match, and a feeble glimmer appeared, in the darkness. It flickered and waned, as though the wind would extinguish it, but next instant the wick of the lantern had caught, and threw a strong yellow glare upon the scene. The light fell upon the major and his comrades, who had sprung into the road, and it lit up the group on the railway line. Yet it was not upon the rescuing party that the murderers fixed their terror-stricken eyes, and the major and his friends had lost all thought of the miscreants above them--for there, standing in the centre of the roadway, there with the light flickering over her pale sweet face, like a spirit from the tomb, stood none other than the much-enduring, cruelly-treated girl for whom Burt's murderous blow had been intended.

For a few moments she stood there without either party moving a foot or uttering a sound. Then there came from the railway line a cry so wild that it will ring for ever in the ears of those who heard it.

Burt dropped upon his knees and put his band over his eyes to keep out the sight. John Girdlestone caught his son by the wrist and dashed away into the darkness, flying wildly, madly, with white faces and staring eyes, as men who have looked upon that which is not of this world.

In the meantime, Tom had sprung down from his perch, and had clasped Kate in his arms, and there she lay, sobbing and laughing, with many pretty feminine e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns and exclamations and questions, saved at last from the net of death which had been closing upon her so long.

CHAPTER XLVI.

A MIDNIGHT CRUISE.

If ever two men were completely cowed and broken down those two were the African merchants and his son. Wet, torn, and soiled, they still struggled on in their aimless flight, cras.h.i.+ng through hedges and clambering over obstacles, with the one idea in their frenzied minds of leaving miles between them and that fair accusing face. Exhausted and panting they still battled through the darkness and the storm, until they saw the gleam of the surge and heard the crash of the great waves upon the beach. Then they stopped amid the sand and the s.h.i.+ngle.

The moon was s.h.i.+ning down now in all its calm splendour, illuminating the great tossing ocean and the long dark sweep of the Hamps.h.i.+re coast.

By its light the two men looked at one another, such a look as two lost souls might have exchanged when they heard the gates of h.e.l.l first clang behind them.

Who could have recognized them now as the respected trader of Fenchurch Street and his fastidious son. Their clothes were tattered, their faces splashed with mud and scarred by brambles and thorns, the elder man had lost his hat, and his silvery hair blew out in a confused tangle behind him. Even more noticeable, however, than the change in their attire was the alteration in their expression. Both had the same startled, furtive look of apprehension, like beasts of prey who hear the baying of the hounds in the distance. Their quivering hands and gasping breath betrayed their exhaustion, yet they glanced around them nervously, as though the least sound would send them off once more upon their wild career.

”You devil!” Ezra cried at last, in a harsh, choking voice, taking a step towards his father with a gesture as though he would have struck him. ”You have brought us to this with your canting and scheming and plotting. What are we to do now--eh? Answer me that!” He caught the old man by the coat and shook him violently.

Girdlestone's face was all drawn, as though he were threatened with a fit, and his eyes were gla.s.sy and vacant. The moonlight glittered in them and played over his contorted features. ”Did you see her?” he whispered with trembling lips. ”Did you see her?”

”Yes, I saw her,” the other answered brusquely; ”and I saw that infernal fellow from London, and the major, and G.o.d knows how many more behind her. A nice hornets' nest to bring about one's ears.”

”It was her spirit,” said his father in the same awe-struck voice.

”The spirit of John Harston's murdered daughter.”

”It was the girl herself,” said Ezra. He had been panic-stricken at the moment, but had had time during their flight to realize the situation.

”We have made a pretty botch of the whole thing.”