Part 41 (1/2)

”Whatever we would spare you and ourselves, sir, we must face the truth,” he said. ”Which of these men was needed at Silverdale?”

Again the murmurs rose up, but Winston sat silent, his pulses throbbing with a curious exultation. He had seen the color creep into Maud Barrington's face, and her aunt's eyes, when he told her what had prompted him to leave Silverdale, and knew they understood him. Then, in the stillness that followed, the drumming of hoofs rose from the prairie. It grew louder, and when another sound became audible too, more than one of those who listened recognized the jingle of accoutrements. Courthorne rose unsteadily, and made for the door.

”I think,” he said, with a curious laugh, ”I must be going. I don't know whether the troopers want me or your comrade.”

A lad sprang to his feet, and as he ran to the door called ”Stop him!”

In another moment Dane had caught his arm, and his voice rang through the confusion as everybody turned or rose.

”Keep back all of you,” he said. ”Let him go!”

Courthorne was outside by this time, and only those who reached the door before Dane closed it heard a faint beat of hoofs as somebody rode quietly away beneath the bluff, while as the rest cl.u.s.tered together, wondering, a minute or two later, Corporal Payne, flecked with spume and covered with dust, came in. He raised his hand in salutation to Colonel Barrington, who sat very grim in face in his chair at the head of the table.

”I'm sorry, sir, but it's my duty to apprehend Lance Courthorne,” he said.

”You have a warrant?” asked Barrington.

”Yes, sir,” said the corporal.

There was intense silence for a moment. Then the Colonel's voice broke through it very quietly.

”He is not here,” he said.

Payne made a little deprecatory gesture. ”We know he came here. It is my duty to warn you that proceedings will be taken against any one concealing or harboring him.”

Barrington rose up very stiffly, with a little gray tinge in his face, but words seemed to fail him, and Dane laid his hand on the corporal's shoulder.

”Then,” he said grimly, ”don't exceed it. If you believe he's here, we will give you every opportunity of finding him.”

Payne called to a comrade outside, who was, as it happened, new to the force, and they spent at least ten minutes questioning the servants and going up and down the house. Then as they glanced into the general room again, the trooper looked deprecatingly at his officer.

”I fancied I heard somebody riding by the bluff just before we reached the house,” he said.

Payne wheeled round with a flash in his eyes. ”Then you have lost us our man. Out with you, and tell Jackson to try the bluff for a trail.”

They had gone in another moment, and Winston still sat at the foot of the table and Barrington at the head, while the rest of the company were scattered, some wonderingly silent, though others talked in whispers, about the room. As yet they felt only consternation and astonishment.

CHAPTER XXV

COURTHORNE MAKES REPARATION

The silence in the big room had grown oppressive, when Barrington raised his head and sat stiffly upright.

”What has happened has been a blow to me, and I am afraid I am scarcely equal to entertaining you tonight,” he said. ”I should, however, like Dane and Macdonald, and one or two of the older men to stay a while.

There is still, I fancy, a good deal for us to do.”

The others turned towards the door, but as they pa.s.sed Winston, Miss Barrington turned and touched his shoulder. The man, looking up suddenly, saw her and her niece standing close beside her.

”Madam,” he said hoa.r.s.ely, though it was Maud Barrington he glanced at, ”the comedy is over. Well, I promised you an explanation, and now you have it you will try not to think too bitterly of me. I cannot ask you to forgive me.”