Pyke waited a moment listening to the clatter of its hoofs mingling with the rain and the thunder, then quickly retracing his steps returned to Blair.
He still lay where his assailant had left him. Pyke knelt down and thrust one unresisting foot into the stirrup, then he dragged the body for a few yards along the wet road and left it lying on its back, leaped over the hedge and fled. But once more he came back, and lifting the gate replaced it on its hinges and fastened it.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
Mr. Austin Ambrose was spending an extremely unpleasant evening. It sounds as if it would be a very nice thing to play with one's fellow creatures as if they were puppets—to pull the wires which govern their actions, and to make them dance to one's piping; but the wire-puller has sometimes a very uncomfortable time of it.
Mr. Austin Ambrose had up to the present found his puppets quite docile and obedient to the pulling of the wires. He had got Lord Blair and Margaret secretly married, he had hidden them away at Appleford; his puppet Lottie had played her part really quite admirably, and Margaret was fully convinced that she had been betrayed and ruined by the man she loved.
So far, so well; but still Mr. Austin Ambrose was uncomfortable. He had left Margaret to herself, knowing that if so left she would be more likely to carry out his desire and fly, than if he remained with her.
But he did not mean to lose sight of her; it was his intention to travel by the same train if possible, and to track her, unseen himself, to her place of refuge.
So he went and placed himself on the road leading to the station, and lighting a cigarette, waited as patiently as he could.
Hour passed after hour, and still she did not come. Then the clouds rose, and the sky grew murky, and presently the storm broke.