He stood staring at her, forgetting the button. About them was the dusk of the night. His restless eyes roved up and down the long straight road, not a soul was there to be seen. And then the slow passion that sometimes came to him moved him. He had been patient, truly he had said he was patient, patient and slow, yet as sure as death itself—why should he wait? He took a step towards her, the girl shrank back, the green door was behind her, she might have lifted the latch and escaped, but a strange feeling of impotence, of helplessness was on her, she could only stare at the man with distended eyes.
"'Ee do belong to I!" he said. And he said it again and then again, and each time he took a slow step toward her.
"No, no, Abram——" her voice rose shrill with terror, for his arms were suddenly about her, his hateful hands were on her, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.
"Let—let I go, for God's sake—Abram—let I go!"
But he did not answer, he dragged her towards him, her face closer to his, his breath was on her lips now, his eyes shone brilliantly, their dull, lifelessness was gone, the madness of his pent-up passion was on him.
"Let I—let I go—for—for God's sake let I——"
And then the green door behind her opened suddenly, Abram Lestwick lifted his head, he looked at the newcomer, the man who stood in the opening of the wall.
The girl was sobbing, struggling pitifully in his grip, yet he never let her go, he held her tightly, staring at the man, and it seemed waiting for him to pass.
"Let I go—let I go—for God's mercy, let I go!"
Allan Homewood knew the voice, he knew the shimmer of her gold hair, he knew that writhing little figure. He put his hand on her arm, he drew her back, Lestwick released her, yet did not stir.