Part 35 (1/2)
He took the lamp and ascended out of view. What a transformation came over the girl's countenance then.
Her eyes lit up with triumph--she sprang to the overcoat and thrust her eager hand into the breast-pocket.
She was right. The book she had seen him reading was the green morocco note-book he had referred to when she had tried to trip him in his knowledge of St. Udo Brand's letter to her--and she had it in her hand now.
She drew it forth, and fled like a phantom to her room, just as Colonel
Brand, recalling his blunder, started up and hurried to remove the d.a.m.ning evidence of his own imposture.
CHAPTER XVIII.
MARGARET'S PERIL.
Margaret double-locked her door, and stood listening with the book clutched fast in her hand.
Drop by drop her blood gurgled from her heart--her hair bristled.
What had she done?
She had thrown the gauntlet at him; henceforth there should be no quarter.
She thought it all out in that breathless watch for the result. She knew that she had given herself over to his sworn vengeance; that she would be cut down from his path like a noxious weed; that the battle which was coming would be a _battle for her life_.
Yes, her day of grace was past--even now her enemy knew his loss. She had--oh, galling thought!--outwitted him.
He searched his pockets--all of them; he shook the coat--in vain. His eyes stole up the staircase with the green glare of murder in their tawny depths; his lean face grew chalk-white; his hand hid itself in his bosom and griped something there. Alas, for reckless Margaret!
And yet the wretch stood scheming--scheming, wary as his own blood thirsty sleuth-hound.
It was a woman not easily brushed aside; He must be very cautious with his dark revenge, and creep with sheathed claws toward his purpose.
John, coming down stairs empty-handed, met the gaze of a face looking at him, which he thought at first was that of the arch enemy of mankind.
”Where has your mistress gone, my man?”
”To her room, your honor.”
”Have you been meddling with the pockets of this coat?”
”No, indeed, sir; I hope you'll believe me, sir. I just had but hung it up when I was sent with a lamp to the upper hall. Please ask Miss Walsingham if it wasn't so, yer honor.”
”Then, by Heaven! I've been robbed!”
He turned on his heel, and carried his livid face into the library, as spotted as if he had been smitten with a white plague, rummaged without ceremony until he had got himself pen, and ink, and paper, and wrote a _billet-doux_ to his lady-love.
Five minutes after Margaret's whirlwind rush to her room, there came a knocking at the door.
”Who is it?”