"Mr. Black! Who? What?" He was still staring at his father's letter; and still had made no offer to take it.
"Read this first," said she.
Then he woke to the situation. He took the letter, and drawing her inside, shut the door while he read it. She, trembling very much, did not dare to lift her eyes to watch its effect, but she was conscious that his back and not his face was turned her way, and that the moment was the stillest one of her whole life.
Then there came a rattling noise as he crushed the letter in his hand.
"Tell me what this means," said he, but he did not turn his head as he made this request.
"Your father must do that," was her gentle reply. "I was only to deliver the letter. I came—we came—thus early, because we thought—we feared we should get no opportunity later to find you here alone. There seem to be people on the road—whom—whom you might feel obliged to entertain and as your father cannot wait—"
He had wheeled about. His face confronted hers. It wore a look she did not understand and which made him seem a stranger to her. Involuntarily she took a step back.
"I must be going now," said she, and fell—her physical weakness triumphing at last over her will power.
XXXI
ESCAPE
"Oliver? Where is Oliver?"
These were Reuther's first words, as, coming to herself, she perceived Mr. Black bending helplessly over her.
The answer was brief, almost indifferent. Alanson Black was cursing himself for allowing her to come to this house alone.
"He was here a moment ago. When he saw you begin to give signs of life, he slid out. How do you feel, my—my dear? What will your mother say?"
"But Oliver?" She was on her feet now; she had been lying on some sort of couch. "He must—Oh, I remember now. Mr. Black, we must go. I have given him his father's letter."
"We are not going till you have something to eat. Not a word. I'll—" Why did his eye wander to the nearest window, and his words trail away into silence?
Reuther turned about to see. Oliver was in front, conversing earnestly with Mr. Sloan. As they looked, he dashed back into the rear of the house, and they heard his voice rise once or twice in some ineffectual commands to his deaf servant, then there came a clatter and a rush from the direction of the stable, and they saw him flash by on a gaunt but fiery horse, and take with long bounds the road up which they had just laboured. He had stopped to equip himself in some measure for this ride, but not the horse, which was without saddle or any sort of bridle but a halter strung about his neck.
This was flight; or so it appeared to Mr. Sloan, as he watched the young man disappear over the brow of the hill. What Mr. Black thought was not so apparent. He had no wish to discourage Reuther whose feeling was one of relief as her first word showed.
"Oliver is gone. We shall not have to hurry now and perhaps if I had a few minutes in which to rest–"
She was on the verge of fainting again.
And then Alanson Black showed of what stuff he was made. In ten minutes he had bustled about the half-deserted building, and with the aid of the dazed and uncomprehending deaf-mute, managed to prepare a cup of hot tea and a plate of steaming eggs for the weary girl.
After such an effort, Reuther felt obliged to eat, and she did; seeing which, the lawyer left her for a moment and went out to interview their guide.
"Where's the young lady?"
This from Mr. Sloan.
"Eating something. Come in and have a bite; and let the horses eat, too. She must have a rest. The young fellow went off pretty quick, eh?"
"Ya-as." The drawl was one of doubt. "But quickness don't count. Fast or slow, he's on his way to capture—if that's what you want to know."
"What? We are followed then?"
"There are men on the road; two, as I told you before. He can't get by them—IF that's what he wants to do."
"But I thought they fell back. We didn't hear them after you joined us."
"No; they didn't come on. They didn't have to. This is the only road down the mountain, and it's one you've got to follow or go tumbling over the precipice. All they've got to do is to wait for him; and that's what I tried to tell him, but he just shook his arm at me and rode on. He might better have waited—for company."
Mr. Black cast a glance behind him, saw that the door of the house was almost closed and ventured to put another question.
"What did he ask you when he came out here?"
"Why we had chosen such an early hour to bring him his father's message."
"And what did you say?"
"Wa'al, I said that there was another fellow down my way awful eager to see him, too; and that you were mortal anxious to get to him first. That was about it, wasn't it, sir?"
"Yes. And how did he take that?"
"He turned white, and asked me just what I meant. Then I said that some one wanted him pretty bad, for, early as it was, this stranger was up as soon as you, and had followed us into the mountains and might show up any time on the road. At which he gave me a stare, then plunged back into the house to get his hat and trot out his horse. I never saw quicker work. But it's no use; he can't escape those men. They know it, or they wouldn't have stopped where they did, waiting for him."
Mr. Black recalled the aspect of the gully, and decided that Mr. Sloan was right. There could be but one end to this adventure. Oliver would be caught in a manifest effort to escape, and the judge's cup of sorrow and humiliation would be full. He felt the shame of it himself; also the folly of his own methods and of the part he had allowed Reuther to play. Beckoning to his host to follow him, he turned towards the house.
"Don't mention your fears to the young lady," said he. "At least, not till we are well past the gully."
"I shan't mention anything. Don't you be afeared of that."
And with a simultaneous effort difficult for both, they assumed a more cheerful air, and briskly entered the house.
It was not until they were well upon the road back that Reuther ventured to speak of Oliver. She was riding as far from the edge of the precipice as possible. In descent it looked very formidable to her unaccustomed eye.
"This is a dangerous road for a man to ride bareback," she remarked. "I'm terrified when I think of it, Mr. Black. Why did he go off quite so suddenly? Is there a train he is anxious to reach? Mr. Sloan, is there a train?"
"Yes, Miss, there is a train."
"Which he can get by riding fast?"
"I've known it done!"
"Then he is excusable." Yet her anxious glance stole ever and again to the dizzy verge towards which she now unconsciously urged her own horse till Mr. Black drew her aside.
"There is nothing to fear in that direction," said he. "Oliver's horse is to be trusted, if not himself. Cheer up, little one, we'll soon be on more level ground and then for a quick ride and a speedy end to this suspense."
He was rewarded by a confiding look, after which they all fell silent.
A half-hour's further descent, then a quick turn and Mr. Sloan, who had ridden on before them, came galloping hastily back.
"Wait a minute," he admonished them, putting up his hand to emphasise the appeal.
"Oh, what now?" cried Reuther, but with a rising head instead of a sinking one.
"We will see," said Mr. Black, hastening to meet their guide. "What now?" he asked. "Have they come together? Have the detectives got him?"
"No, not HIM; only his horse. The animal has just trotted up—riderless."
"Good God! the child's instinct was true. He has been thrown—"
"No." Mr. Sloan's mouth was close to the lawyer's ear. "There is another explanation. If the fellow is game, and anxious enough to reach the train to risk his neck for it, there's a path he could have taken which would get him there without his coming round this turn. I never thought it a possible thing till I saw his horse trotting on ahead of us without a rider." Then as Reuther came ambling up, "Young lady, don't let me scare you, but it looks now as if the young man had taken a short cut to the station, which, so far as I know, has never been taken but by one man before. If you will draw up closer—here! give me hold of your bridle. Now look back along the edge of the precipice for about half a mile, and you will see shooting up from the gully a solitary tree whose topmost branch reaches within a few feet of the road above."