"Why do you stand there? You—you might be expecting something to happen."
She did not make any reply and still retained her position. But about half an hour afterward, she turned suddenly and spoke in a low, clear tone.
"If you are afraid, you had better go away," she said. "They are coming."
It was evident that she at least felt no alarm, though there was a thrill of excitement in her voice. Mr. Ffrench sprang up from his seat.
"They are coming!" he echoed. "Good God! What do you mean?"
It was not necessary that she should enter into an explanation. A clamor of voices in the road told its own story. There were shouts and riotous cries which, in a moment more, were no longer outside the gates but within them. An uproarious crowd of men and boys poured into the garden, trampling the lawn and flower-beds beneath their feet as they rushed and stumbled over them.
"Wheer is he?" they shouted. "Bring the chap out, an' let's tak' a look at him. Bring him out!"
Ffrench moved toward the door of the room, and then, checked by some recollection, turned back again.
"Good Heaven!" he said, "they are at their worst, and here we are utterly alone. Why did Haworth go away? Why——"
His daughter interrupted him.