Red Ratcliffe's voice came to her through the darkness. "Ay, there's blood on me, cousin—Wayne blood, that it shall be thy work to cleanse. Meanwhile, the hunt is up— Canst not hear them running hot-foot up and down the house? Come with me, girl, or I'll set thumb and finger to thy throat and drop thee where thou stand'st."
She was helpless in his grasp. Bewildered, not knowing where Ned was, nor why Red Ratcliffe was here unharmed, she let herself be carried down the passage, far as the low door that creaked and groaned as Ratcliffe opened it. The cold wind blew on her from without, and on the sudden her senses cleared. This fool whose love she had laughed at thrice a day had trapped her after all. A few more strides, and they would be free of the moor, and Wayne might seek till morning light and never find her. A few more strides, and it would matter little that Wayne of Marsh had fought his way to the very threshold of possession.
The dawn was yet far off, and the moon was hid, or its light might have shown Red Ratcliffe the smile that played about his cousin's face, as her hand slipped to her breast and returned.
"I'll come with thee, cousin, never fear," she whispered softly, and lifted Wayne's dagger in the gloom.
"Lights! Where are your lights, ye fools?" came Wayne's voice from near at hand. "'Twill be gall and madness to me if this worst ruffian of the band escape."
"There's a darksome passage here. Does it lead to a secret way, think ye?" answered Rolf Wayne of Cranshaw.
"Likely; the wind blows shrewdly down it. Quick with the candles there! And keep your blades drawn, for by the Dog I'll kill the one who lets Red Ratcliffe through."
They gained the open door, and on the threshold Janet Ratcliffe stood, with lips half-parted in a smile, and in her eyes the first tremulous self-loathing that comes to women after they have done man's work.
"Do ye seek Red Ratcliffe, sirs?" she asked.
"Ay, show him me—show him me, I say!" roared Shameless Wayne, too hot for any tenderness toward his mistress.