But Field was made of whipcord and steel. He slipped away from the other's grip and planted two or three body blows that caused Bentwood to groan aloud. Mark stepped out at once, but there was no need of his services. Field was all over his man by this time. As he clenched and drove his left home, Bentwood came heavily to the ground. Before he could stagger to his feet again, Field had the handcuffs on him.
"It's an outrage," Bentwood blustered, though his face was white now and his big red cheeks shook like a jelly. "What does it all mean?"
"Case of Sir Charles Darryll," Field panted. "We know all about that. We shall have your friend Sartoris, in a minute, to say nothing of Reggie and Cora. If you tell us everything and make a clean breast of your part of it——"
"Shan't," Bentwood said sullenly. "You can find out that for yourself."
Field pursed his lips in a soft whistle. The two shadows by the gate came up.
"Keep him close by," Field said. "He is just
valiantly drunk now, but unless I greatly mistake my man, he will listen to reason shortly. Don't take him far away, as I may want to make use of him presently. I am glad that he arrived on the scene before the motor came up."
Again the tense silence fell on the group; once more they had to possess their souls in patience. Field appeared more cheerful and philosophical; the arrest of Bentwood seemed to have taken a heavy weight from his mind. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. Mark turned to Mary.
"You are sure that you will not reconsider your decision?" he said. "I wish that I could persuade you not to remain here. It has been quite painful enough for you already, and you can do no good. Why should you witness the final humiliation of it?"
Mary looked at the speaker; a grateful sigh came from her lips.