The wind rose again, and further conversation was impossible. Brenda walked on, praying for strength to escape this terrible man. She could not rid herself of the idea that the dead man was her own true lover. Van Zwieten might have seen him, as he said, might have quarreled with him and shot him. The fear chilled her heart, and when next the wind fell she again taxed Van Zwieten. "You killed him?" she cried.
"You will insist on that, but you are wrong. I never saw Captain Burton. He was not at the inn when I called."
"He had gone to town," said Brenda, breathless with joy.
"No, he had gone to the Rectory."
Brenda stopped short. Lady Jenny had gone to the Rectory also. Perhaps Harold had seen her, and had asked for her aid. While she was wondering if this might be so, there was a great shouting, and in the distance she saw the blaze of torches borne by many people. The wind made them flare furiously.
"Ach!" said Van Zwieten under his breath, "they know now."
In the high wind Brenda did not hear him. Guessing that the concourse meant the discovery of the body, she flew along the road like a lapwing. The procession was coming toward the Manor gates from the direction of the orchards. Some men were shouting, some women screaming, but the solid group surrounded by the red, smoking lights remained silent. Van Zwieten followed noiselessly, and reached the group almost as soon as Brenda.
"You see," he breathed in the girl's ear, "he is alive!"
Brenda gave a cry of joy and flung herself into the arms of the foremost man.
"Harold! Harold! Thank God you are safe!"