"You can take it, if you like," retorted Elgert. "I don't want their money. All I want is to see the man taken again, and taken there to prove that the St. Clives are in it."
They turned and hurried off; and then, very cautiously, from amidst the laurels, there arose a little scared and indignant face—a face surrounded by golden hair. Irene St. Clive had seen them and heard all that they had said!
She had seen them go into the shrubbery, and had wondered what tricks they were about to play. Her first idea was that it was something to do with Ralph, something to vex him; for she knew both the boys, and was aware that they were his enemies. So she had followed them, that she might see, and then warn Ralph. And then it had flashed upon her! Mrs. Charlton was there with her husband; and the boys were spying upon her. Oh, what mean, miserable boys to call themselves gentlemen, and do such things!
She heard what they said when they stood in the roadway, and then she turned and raced indoors to tell her father; even in her dismay, she was thoughtful enough not to go to her mother first, lest she should be needlessly alarmed. Her father would know best what was to be done.
And her tidings filled Mr. St. Clive with concern. Where could poor Mr. Charlton go? Where else was there for him to hide?
He reproached himself now that he had not sent him away sooner. But Mr. Charlton had seemed to derive such comfort from being able to see his son and wife frequently, that Mr. St. Clive had allowed things to go on as they were, and now it might be too late!
Yes, even with Irene's warning, too late; for the man could not go out just as he was. Mr. St. Clive knew full well that every hiding-place would be searched—that escape would be almost impossible—and he shrank from being the bearer of such bad tidings to the husband and wife.
But it had to be done, the warning must be given, and given at once, and he rose, Irene following him, and went into the grounds and towards the cottage. His own wife was there at the moment speaking with Mrs. Charlton.
And the dismay, the sorrow, that they exhibited when the tidings were told! The poor man must fly from here and be a wanderer again—hunted hither and thither, not knowing from hour to hour if he should be captured, not able even to get a message to his wife, or to hear how it fared with her and his son. It was very hard indeed.
"You have done all that one man could to help another, sir," he said to Mr. St. Clive, as he held his weeping wife in his arms. "I shall never, never forget your kindness, nor that of your good wife and dear little daughter. You will be a friend to my poor wife and my boy—I feel sure that you will be—and now I must change this disguise, and go. To go as the old gardener might be more dangerous than to go as the escaped prisoner."