Part 48 (2/2)
”Won't come, eh?” cried the man. ”What's the bloomin' reason, I'd like to know?”
He came closer and then caught sight of Margaret. For a second he stared in amazement; then uttered an exclamation.
”You! How did you get here?”
”Oh!” she fairly screamed. She recognized Matlock Styles, and knew not what to say. For some reason she felt as does the bird in the net of the fowler.
”This is bloomin' strange,” went on the Englishman. ”I thought you were down in the village, under the care of the doctors.”
”I was,” she managed to falter.
”How did you get here--run away?”
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”I--I do not know. I--they have found me out! They are going to hang me, or electrocute me! I--I couldn't stand it!”
”How do you know that?”
”Oh, I know only too well.”
”So you ran away, did you? 'Twas a b.l.o.o.d.y cute thing to do, Margaret.
Say, your dress is wet,” he went on wonderingly.
”Yes, I was in a rowboat and had to wade ash.o.r.e.” She looked at him with a face full of wild misery. ”Oh, please go away and leave me!”
”Leave you?”
”Yes! yes!”
”I can't do that, Margaret.”
”You must!”
”But you are not fit to be left alone. You're sick.”
”Never mind--only leave me!”
”Better let me take care of you.” And now, having stopped the barking of the mastiff, he came and sat down by her side.
”No! no!” She tried to shrink away, but was too weak to succeed.
”So you ran away, eh? Are they after you?”
”I don't know. I--I suppose so.”
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