Part 79 (2/2)

Annie Payne looked at him with a troubled air. She knew well her interlocutor's determination and daring, and she saw breakers ahead.

”But it will be all right now that you are back again,” she ventured.

She greatly feared otherwise; still, one must hope for the best.

The dark look deepened over his features. He hardly seemed to hear her, but stood gazing through the open window.

”I must go,” he exclaimed, suddenly. ”Where is Lilian?” and with three strides he gained the other room. It was empty. ”Ah, better so, perhaps,” he muttered to himself. ”Mrs Payne, tell her, with my love, that a very few days will see me back here again, and everything will come right then. Now I must not lose another moment. Good-bye, for a few days.”

”What are you going to do?” was the reply, spoken in a tone of alarm.

”Wait. Don't be in such a hurry. You can't rush off at once. You must off-saddle if only for an hour. Anyhow, wait until George comes back.

Ah, there he is.”

For at that moment George appeared, leading the runaway by the bridle.

The joint exertions of himself and his stable-boy had availed to catch the trespa.s.ser just in time to prevent his doing further damage.

Claverton was firm in his refusal. He had his own reasons for wis.h.i.+ng to leave that house. Not even the smallest risk would he run of being tempted to forego the purpose he had in hand, for a single instant.

”Here's your critter, old chap,” cried Payne, panting from the effects of his ran. ”Je--rusalem! What a chevvy we had after the beggar--Eh?

What? Going away! Not to be thought of.”

”But I am!” replied the other in a tone of settled resolve, as he prepared to fling the bridle over the animal's neck. ”Shall be back again in four or five days. Hold on. Just walk a little way down the street with me.”

They walked on. Payne's brow growing more and more serious as he listened. He had a great regard for this man, who had stepped in to his rescue twice at a very critical moment.

”My dear Claverton, be careful what you are about,” he said, gravely.

”It's a devilish awkward business, and at any other time than during the war it would be impossible.”

”Oh, I've served my apprentices.h.i.+p in a good school for caution, never fear. But, you'll see me again in a few days or--you'll never see me at all.”

Payne made no reply. Suddenly he looked up at a house they were pa.s.sing. It was a small house standing back from the street.

”By the way. We were awfully sorry to hear about that poor fellow Armitage,” he said. ”His wife is staying there.”

”Staying there? In that house? Why, I thought she was in 'King.'”

”No. She came down here about a week ago--she only heard about the poor fellow the day before yesterday.”

”Is she very much cut up?”

”Dreadfully, I'm told. She is staying with another friend of yours-- Mrs Hicks.”

”Then she's in good hands. Look here, Payne. I'll go in for a moment and ask after her--poor little thing. And if I'm not out in five minutes, just take my horse round to Wood's and make them off-saddle him and give him a feed. It's all on my way and it'll save time. I'll join you there, if you don't mind waiting.”

Quickly walking up the little gravel path bordered with orange-trees, and shaded with trellised vines, Claverton knocked gently at the door.

A subdued footstep in the silent pa.s.sage, and it was opened--by Laura.

She stared at him in amazement.

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