Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned and stuck his head into the room. Martha still sat where Carrington had thrown her. She did not care what Carrington did to the house, so long as he was ignorant of the existence of the trap-door.
And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour Martha heard him raging around the house, opening and slamming doors and overturning furniture. Once when she did not hear him for several minutes, she got up and went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the stable, looking in at the horses.
Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed her place on the floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter the house again, and after that she heard Parsons’ voice, raised in high-terrored protest. Then there was another silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This time she saw Carrington on his horse, riding away.
But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. She feared Carrington’s departure was a subterfuge, and she was not mistaken. For a little later Carrington returned, riding swiftly. He slid from his horse at a little distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha was in the kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her as he came into the room, but passed her and again made a search of the house. Passing Martha again he gave her a malevolent look, then halted at the outside door.
The man’s wild rage seemed to have left him; he was calm—polite, even.
“Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. I am afraid I was a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I won’t bother her again.”
He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a window and drawing back the curtain slightly, Martha watched him.
Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged again presently, leading two horses—Parsons’ horse and Billy. He led the animals to where his own horse stood, climbed into the saddle and rode away, the two horses following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked back. Then the darkness swallowed him.
For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail from a window. Then she drew a deep breath and went into Marion’s room, standing under the trap-door.
“I reckon you kin come down now, honey—he’s gone.”