“The wretch!” he said, in a low voice. “But he shall pay for it now. I’ll ransack the whole world till we have unearthed him.”
“You will never do that,” said she calmly. “He dares too much for that. He is no coward to lie hid in a corner,” she went on, with a sort of perverse pride in the man for whom every spark of love was long since dead. “He will brave you to your faces and escape you all. But you have done your best. You are a brave man, Mr. Reade. You would help me if you could. Good-night.”
She shook hands with him, and left the room. He turned to me quickly.
“You must both leave this place,” said he. “The long-continued suffering has almost turned that poor lady’s brain. But she is safe from that vile wretch now; and you too, oh, my darling, thank Heaven!”
There was a tap at the door, and the voice of the elder detective said—
“Are you ready, sir?”
“All right,” said Laurence; and then added, in a voice for me only, “I’m not ready a bit. I should like to stay and comfort you for ever. Take care of your poor little wounded arm. Good-night, good-night, my darling!”
I heard him leave the house with the constables. Then, exhausted by the events of the day and night, I just managed to crawl upstairs to my room, and, throwing myself upon the bed without undressing, I fell into a deep sleep which was more like a swoon. In the early morning I woke, feeling stiff and ill, undressed, and got into bed; and when the sun had risen I got up with hot and aching head, and found that my arm was beginning to be very painful.
Haidee and I had breakfast alone, for the cook told me that Mr. Maynard had already started for London; and I was just going to see how Mrs. Rayner was when Doctor Lowe arrived on his daily visit to Sarah. As soon as he saw me he ordered me off to bed, and then, after making him swear secrecy, which did not make much difference, as the story would certainly be all over the neighborhood and in the London newspapers before long, I let him draw from me an account of the greater part of the events of the previous day. He said very little in comment beyond telling me that I was “a little simpleton to be so easily humbugged,” and that he had always mistrusted Mr. Rayner, but that now he admired him; and then, strictly forbidding me to leave my bed until his visit next day, he left me.
Jane came up to me soon after. She had only just come home from Wright’s Farm, and was full of curiosity excited to the highest pitch by the vague account that the cook, who was deaf and had not heard much, had given her of the events which had taken place in her absence. I told her that there had been a robbery at the Hall, that the man who had asked to speak to me was a detective, and that he and Mr. Rayner had left the Alders.