Ralph raised his hand to impose silence. The soft returning footfalls were clear to the ears. Then, rigid, unbending, with dilated eyes, Marion passed, the flash of the lantern behind her.
"Come," said Ralph, "let us return. A good night's work, Tchigorsky!"
"Ay," Tchigorsky murmured; "a good night's work, indeed."
CHAPTER XIII REELING OFF THE THREAD
It was fortunate for all parties that Geoffrey was possessed of strong nerves, or he would have been certain to betray himself and them.
Since he had left school at the time when the unseen terror first began to oppress Ravenspur, he had known nothing of the world; he had learnt nothing beyond the power to suffer silently and the power of love.
To confide in him was, perhaps, a daring thing on the part of Ralph Ravenspur. But, then, Ralph knew his world only too deeply and too well, and he rarely made a mistake in a man. All the same, he followed as closely as possible the meeting between Marion and Geoffrey the following morning.
Marion came down a little pale, a little quieter and more subdued than usual. Geoffrey rallied her in the spirit of mingled amusement and affection that he always assumed to Marion. His voice was natural and unaffected. Ralph was grimly satisfied. He knew now that his ally had brains as well as courage.