“Yes,” said Webster, whose face was deadly pale; “I saw his gun drop, and thought he had meant to shoot you.”
“I was wishing he would fire.”
“Frank!” exclaimed Webster.
They looked at each other straight in the eyes, clasped hands, and then walked back together.
Miss Anstrade went to meet them with a smile on her lips and a question in her eyes.
“My poor friends,” she murmured softly, “you have suffered a lot. I see it by your faces.”
“And you?” they said.
“I was confident you would find me if I could not escape.”
“We were just starting off,” said Webster, “after Frank had found the waggon and learnt from Klaas that you had been taken off in a cart.”
“Yes; they managed that very well. They told me there was a young woman lying ill at a farmhouse near, and asked me if I would not go, and they explained that, anticipating my consent, they had brought the waggon to a spot which would be convenient to you and to them. I saw no reason why I should not do a kindness, and after writing a note for you, which they promised to deliver, I was driven off to a cottage some eight or nine miles away. On alighting, I saw for the first time that one of the two men was a Portuguese, and from his mocking air of courtesy my suspicions were aroused. Of course there was no woman in the house, and on being shown into a room I locked the door. They left me there all the morning, but in the afternoon they begged me to come out. The Dutchman then went away, and through a small window I saw him mount a horse and ride away with a number of dogs. The Portuguese then began to threaten, and next to batter at the door. Then he promised me in his generosity much wealth if I would tell him where you were going, and whether it was to find a hidden treasure.”