And, indeed, as I looked at her, I saw that she spoke the truth.
"Very well," I said; "do as you think best. I've warned you," and without waiting for her to answer, I passed before her down the hall, not without the thought that she might plunge a knife into my back—she was certainly that kind! I opened the door myself and closed it behind me, then started down the walk. But in a moment, I dodged aside among the trees and hastened around the house. I was determined to follow that path which started from the library balcony—I must see whither it led.
CHAPTER VIII
The Path through the Grove
I had no trouble in finding the path and in following it through the grove, noting how the trees screened it from the street. I reached a hedge enclosing a garden which the path skirted, and finally a second hedge, which seemed to be the one bounding the estate. The path led to a gate which opened upon the grounds of a cottage just beyond. I could see that there was a garden and that the cottage was covered with vines, but no further details were discernible.
Suddenly a light flashed out from one of the windows, and I saw a woman moving about within, no doubt preparing supper. But at that moment, I caught the sound of hurried footsteps along the path behind me and shrank aside into the shadow of the trees just in time to avoid another woman whom, as she dashed past, I recognised as the dark-faced maid. She crossed the garden without slackening her pace and entered the house. I saw her approach the other woman, pause apparently to speak a word to her, and then the two disappeared together.
What was happening within this house? Was it here that Miss Lawrence had found refuge? And as I turned this question over and over in my mind, staring reflectively at the lighted window before me, it seemed to me more and more probable that I had already reached the end of my search. The fugitive must have escaped by some avenue screened from the public gaze, else she would surely have been noticed. She must have known a place of refuge before she started; a woman of her self-poise would not rush wildly forth with no goal in view. And, lastly, that goal must have been close at hand, or she could not have escaped discovery.
The house before me answered all of these conditions; but how could I make certain that Miss Lawrence was really there? Suppose I burst in upon her, what could I say? I could not ask her to tell me the story—indeed, I would not even know her if I met her face to face. I must see the photograph, first, which Curtiss had promised to leave for me at the hotel.
Besides, I asked myself—and in this matter, I confess, I was very willing to be convinced—would it not be wiser, more merciful, to wait till morning, till the first shock was past, till she had time to rally a little, to get her calmness back? Then, I could dare to approach her, to show her how she had wronged Burr Curtiss, to persuade her to see him. It were better for both her and Curtiss that they should not meet for a day or two; they would have need of all their courage; all their self-control, for that meeting must reveal a secret which it chilled me to think of. At least, I would try to force no entrance to the cottage now. I shrank from any show of violence. Curtiss would countenance nothing of that sort.