CHAPTER XXII.
THE SILK DRESS—MURDER!
The morning after the interview between Hunston and the widow of Mathias, that woman was missing from the camp.
No one doubted that she had gone on her errand of vengeance, for Hunston had told Toro and one or two others of her threats against the Harkaways; but the question was how and when she did so?
No one knew.
The sentinels who all night long had guarded each known path leading to or from the bivouac were questioned, but neither of them had seen her depart.
Toro was rather annoyed at this; not that he had any great objection to her slaughtering the whole of the Harkaway family, although he certainly would prefer to perform that task himself. But he could not help thinking that a secret path might admit foes, as well as permit the exit of friends.
However, we must leave Toro to his reflections, and follow the brigand's widow.
It was between one and two in the morning when she quitted the bivouac without being observed, and walked slowly towards the town where the Harkaways were located.
There was no occasion for hurry.
At that hour of the morning she could not hope to gain admittance to the house where her foes were located.
A day must pass, and evening come again, before any thing could be done.
Diana's brain was in a whirl.
Deep-seated, poignant grief for the loss of one whom she had loved with all the passion her impetuous nature was capable of, made the thought and hope of revenge grow stronger and stronger.
Vengeance! aye, and a terrible one was what her soul craved.
Let once the deadly blow be stricken, and what matter then even if she fell into the hands of the authorities? What matter even if her life was pronounced a forfeit to the law? for life now had little charm for her.
As the sun rose, she sat down a little way out of the road and tried to form some connected plan for carrying out her purpose.
But no! her brain was too confused for deep thought, and after a brief interval she resolved to act upon no plan whatever, but simply do as the course of events might dictate.
At about the hour when she thought the inhabitants of the town would begin to stir, Diana walked into the place.
She knew the residence of the Harkaways well, but scarcely glanced at it as she passed and proceeded to a little house not far from it, where, according to an inscription over the door, one might obtain food, drink and lodging.
Entering this place, Diana made a slender meal, and then, telling the ancient dame who kept the house that she was fatigued, demanded to be shown where she could repose for an hour or two.
The old woman ushered her into a small, meanly-furnished apartment at the front of the house.
"Do not disturb me. I will rest till noon if not later," said Diana.
"You shall not be interrupted," was the response, and Diana was left alone.
She tried to sleep, so that she might be stronger and cooler for the business she had in hand; but the excitement under which she laboured effectually chased away drowsiness.
A little after noon the woman of the house looked in, and finding her lodger awake, entered into conversation, commencing by suggesting some refreshment.
Diana shook her head.
"Ah, my food is very plain and humble," said the old woman. "I can't give you such dainties as the people over yonder eat."
She jerked her thumb in the direction of the Harkaway residence.
"What people are they?" asked Diana, with an assumed indifference she was far from feeling.
"Some English."
"Do they, then, eat and drink the best?"
"The very best; oh, they are rich."
"What do they want here?"
"They have come to destroy the brigands; is it not droll?"
"Ha! have they succeeded?"
"No; but if they are not careful, the brigands will destroy them. They are so careless."
Diana was afraid to exhibit too much interest in the doings of the Harkaways, lest she should arouse suspicion.
So she simply nodded, and listened most anxiously to what the garrulous old woman would say next.
"So very careless; anyone might get into their house by the side door," said the ancient dame.
"Well, it is their own fault if they are robbed."
"True. But it would be little credit to the robber; they think the brigands are afraid to enter the town, so they don't take many precautions."
Diana treasured up every word of this.
Presently the old woman, finding her guest was not conversationally inclined, went out again, and Diana was left alone.
The sun set, and darkness began to gather rapidly when she went out, and after going a little way down the street, returned, and sought the side door of Harkaway's house.
She turned the handle softly and entered.
There was no one in the kitchen where she found herself, but the subdued noise of knives and forks in another apartment convinced her that they were at dinner or some other meal.
Diana, as soon as she had ascertained that fact, glided like a spectre up the stairs, and noiselessly examined various bedchambers.
At length she decided on hiding herself in one which seemed better furnished than the others.
"This must be it," she thought.
And she was right.
It was the apartment of Mrs. Harkaway.
On the dressing-table was a folded paper.
Diana opened it, and found that it was a milliner's bill against Mrs. Harkaway.
"For making a pearl-grey silk dress, etc., etc."
To hide herself was Diana's next move.
Clutching her sharp dagger firmly in her hand, the vengeful woman concealed herself behind some tapestry and waited.
Nor had she long to wait.
A light foot was heard without.
The door was opened, and a second afterwards, a graceful female form was seated before the mirror, with its back towards Diana.
And a female voice said—
"This pearl-grey silk suits my complexion far better than I thought it would. But it fits me badly. These Greek milliners are not to be compared with those of London or Paris."
Then the wearer of the pearl-grey silk heaved a deep sigh, and Diana softly moved the curtain aside a little to get a view of the person who had spoken.
The face was not visible, but from the figure generally, Diana had not the slightest doubt it was Mrs. Harkaway.
"I want some new jewellery sadly," continued "pearl-grey silk;" "but yet, after all, it would be scarcely safe to wear it here, while the brigands are in the neighbourhood. But they will soon be done for."
The widow glided out from her hiding-place as the wearer of the silk dress continued—
"We have one villain safe enough, and another, Mathias, was smothered in a chimney—ha, ha, ha, ha—oh!"
The laugh ended in a deep groan, and never more came the slightest sound from those lips that a moment before had been so merry.
Diana had struck so hard and surely that no second blow was needed, for the first pierced a human heart.
"That laugh was an insult to the memory of my dead husband," she said. "Let none dare scoff at Mathias."
Like a shadow, she glided away, leaving the wearer of the pearl-grey silk sitting motionless before the mirror. Dead!
The silk dress soaked with her heart's blood.
A few minutes later, some one entered Mrs. Harkaway's apartment, and then arose the fearful cry—
"Help! murder!"