Part 71 (1/2)
”It was _I_ who gave you that blow,” he said, with a cruel smile, pointing with his thin finger at the sheriff's forehead. It was false.
”You devil!” cried the sheriff, ”and you have killed the man who saved your brother's life, and consorted with one of two who would have been his murderers.”
”I was myself the second,” said the man, with fiendish calmness. It was the truth. ”I carry the proof of it here,” he added, touching a place at the back of his head where the hair, being shorn away, disclosed a deep mark.
The sheriff staggered back with frenzied eyes and dilated nostrils.
His breast heaved; he seemed unable to catch his breath.
The man looked at him with a mocking smile struggling over clinched teeth. As if a reptile had crossed his path, Wilfrey Lawson turned about and pa.s.sed out without another word.
He returned to the castle and ascended the Donjon tower.
”Tell me how you became possessed of the warrant,” he said. ”Tell me, I beg of you, for my soul's sake as well as for your life's sake.”
Ralph shook his head.
”It is not even yet too late. I shall take horse instantly for Newcastle.”
Sim had crept up, and, standing behind Ralph, was plucking at his jerkin.
Ralph turned about and looked wistfully into the old man's face. For an instant his purpose wavered.
”For the love of G.o.d,” cried the sheriff, ”for your own life's sake, for this poor man's sake, by all that is near and dear to both, I charge you, if you are an innocent man, give me the means to prove you such.”
But again Ralph shook his head.
”Then you are resolved to die?”
”Yes! But for my old friend here--save him if you will and can.”
”You will give me no word as to the warrant?”
”None.”
”Then all is over.”
But going at once to the stables in the courtyard, he called to a stableman,--
”Saddle a horse and bring it round to my quarters in half an hour.”
In less time than that Wilfrey Lawson was riding hard towards Newcastle.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE BLACK CAMEL AT THE GATE.
Next morning after Rotha's struggle with Mrs. Garth at the bridge, the rumor pa.s.sed through Wythburn that the plague was in the district.
Since the advent of the new preachers the people had seen the dreaded scourge dangling from the sleeve of every stranger who came from the fearsome world without. They had watched for the fatal symptoms: they had waited for them: they had invited them. Every breeze seemed to be freighted with the plague wind; every harmless ailment seemed to be the epidemic itself.
Not faith in the will of G.o.d, not belief in destiny, not fort.i.tude or fatalism, not unselfishness or devil-may-care indifference, had saved the people from the haunting dread of being mown down by the unseen and insidious foe.