She bitterly regretted having kept the appointment She had learned little save that Vivian loved her, which she had known long ago. And now she had lost the key: Paslow possessed it, since he had not given it back to her before he ran after the watcher. So how was she to re-enter the jealously-guarded Camp? Alpenny would know that she had been out, that she had met Vivian, and there would be great trouble. These thoughts made the head of the girl reel as she ran along blind and breathless.
Then came several flashes, and before her, unexpectedly, she beheld the gate of The Camp. It was wide open, but, without thinking, she ran in at once, only too thankful to arrive home. As she passed the posts, she sprang unseeingly into the arms of a man. With a cry she tore herself away, and stared. In a flash of lightning she saw that he was tall, lean, clothed in black, and--the sight made her shriek--over his left eye he wore a Black Patch. Then the darkness closed down and she heard him brush past into gloom, running swiftly out of the gate, which he closed after him. She heard the click, and in some way managed to scramble across the wet lawn to her own bedroom-carriage. As she dropped on the threshold she saw that the light in the counting-house was extinguished. What did it all mean? she asked herself; and who was the tall man with the dark patch over his left eye?
[CHAPTER V]
MRS. SNOW'S DISCOVERY
After a few minutes' lying on the threshold of her carriage-bedroom with the rain beating upon her soaking dress, Beatrice rose with an effort and opened the door. It was never locked, as no one would be likely to enter. The matches and a candle were on a table by the bed, where she had left them, and soon she had a light. Beside the candlestick lay a folded piece of paper, and opening this, she read a line or two in Alpenny's crabbed handwriting.
"I find you have gone out. I am going also, and will not be back for three days. Durban will return to-morrow and look after you."
There was no signature, but of course she recognised the calligraphy easily, as it had a distinctive character of its own. The contents of the note rather surprised the girl. In the first place, Alpenny made no remark as to her having taken the key; and in the second, it was strange that he should depart thus unexpectedly, leaving The Camp absolutely unguarded, even by a dog. Beatrice knew well enough that her stepfather frequently went away on business, and at times very unexpectedly, but she had never known him to take so hasty a departure. However, after a glance at the note, she determined to go to bed, being too weary to think of anything; too weary even to reflect that she was alone in that lonely Camp, and that the gate had been open when she arrived. A memory of the stranger with the black patch over his eye certainly made her lock her door, and see that the windows were well fastened; but when she had accomplished this for her own safety, she had only sufficient strength remaining to throw off her wet clothes and get into bed. And there she speedily fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, while the storm raged louder than ever. Her last thought was a hope, that Vivian had reached the Grange in safety.
When she awoke next morning it was ten, as the tiny cuckoo clock on the wall told her, and the sun was streaming in through the chinks of the window-shutters. She still felt weary, and her limbs ached a trifle, but for a moment or so she could not think how she came to be so tired. Then the memory of all that had happened rushed in on her brain, and she sprang from bed to open the door and windows. In a minute the sunlight was pouring cheerfully into the bedroom, and Beatrice was rapidly dressed, feeling hungry, yet at the same time anxious.
And much need she had to be. Her stepfather knew that she had gone out, and must have known that she had taken the key of the smaller gate, for which he would immediately look. He would certainly make himself most unpleasant, and she anticipated a bad quarter of an hour when he returned. Also, Vivian might have got into trouble with the man who had watched them meet under the Witches' Oak. Then, again, the gate of The Camp had been open when she returned, and a stranger had left the place hurriedly. All these things were very strange and disquieting, and Beatrice ardently wished that Durban was back, so that she might speak to him and be reassured. But it was probable that Vivian would come to The Camp that morning in order to learn if she had arrived safely; then they could renew the interrupted conversation, and come to an understanding.
The interview with Paslow perplexed Beatrice when she thought over it. Vivian's talk had been disjointed, and he had given her no satisfaction, answering her questions in a vague manner. That he should have proposed at so awkward a moment, and in so awkward a manner, also puzzled the girl. From what she could recall of the scrappy conversation it had been like one in a nightmare; and, indeed, the whole episode was far removed from the commonplace. The meeting-place under the ill-omened tree--the few hurried words--the rush of Vivian towards the strange man--and then her own headlong flight through the damp, dark woods--these thoughts made her very uncomfortable. It was more like romance than real life, and Beatrice did not care for such sensational events.