“Before God,” he said, “I think you are forgiven for a single impulse we all might suffer and not all of us recoil from the instant after, but I think that this can be no place for you any longer.”
Then he turned upon Dr. Crackenthorpe.
“You!” he cried; “you, man, who have heard it all, thanks to that dirty reptile yonder! Do you intend to peach?”
The doctor pinched his wiry chin between finger and thumb, with his cheeks lifted in a contemplative fashion.
“The boy,” he said, “is safe from any one’s malice. No jury would convict on such evidence. Still, I agree with you, it’s best for him to go.”
“You hear, Renalt?” said my father. “I’ll not drive you in any way, or deny you harbor here if you think you can face it out. You shall judge for yourself.”
“I have judged,” I answered; “I will go.”
I walked past them all, with head erect, and up to my room, where I sat down for a brief space to collect my thoughts and face the future. Hardly had I got hold of the first end of the tangle when there came a knock at the door. I opened it and Zyp was outside.
“You fool!” she whispered; “you should have done as I told you. It’s too late now. Here, take this. Dad told me to give it you”—and she thrust a canvas bag of money into my hand, looking up at me with her unfathomable eyes.
As I took it, suddenly she flung her arms about my neck and kissed me passionately, once, twice, thrice, on the lips, and so pushed me from her and was gone. And as I stood there came to my ears a faint wail from above, and I said to myself doggedly: “It is a gull flying over the house.”