Her eyes opened to their utmost as she uttered the word. It was as though she could speak nothing more, for she stood staring, her clasped hands pressed to her bosom, her dishevelled hair flowing in great masses and framing her face with its dark folds.
"Disappeared—until to-night," he said. "This handkerchief completes the chain of circumstances which points to Eustace as the person mainly concerned in the robbery."
"How sad, oh, how sad, for his poor wife," she exclaimed. "Why is it, Mr. Durham, that the woman always has to suffer while the man goes free?"
"The man will not go free. There is a net spread for him he cannot possibly escape. Tell me, which way did they ride?"
"You are not going after them? You must not do that—you must not face that risk."
"Risk is the pastime of my life, Mrs. Burke. But in this there is no risk. I shall follow their tracks until I find where they are hiding."
"No, no! You must not go. They will hear you coming; they will see you and then—think! You, who have only just escaped them! What mercy would they show?"
"The mercy I would show them," he answered fiercely. "They have stolen the revolver from my belt. Will you lend me the one you have?"
"It is the only one I have. What shall I do if they come back and I am without it?"
"Then I must go without."