A horror of this man took hold of me and I turned to bait him as I would a dog.
“You thought Louis was your son and you wanted me to kill him.”
The patroon stopped his horse; I, also, full in front of him. He stared me in the face.
“Don’t try me,” he said doggedly, “or I’ll kill you. Had I not thought he was my son he should have paid the penalty of what he knows any day these ten years past. When all’s said, I thought him but a bastard. Ride after me in silence.”
I did as I was bid. For the one time in my life I felt completely cowed. I did not know what to do, and before the reaction came, we had reached the house and Van Volkenberg had disappeared in his study.
CHAPTER XXI
MEG’S PLEADING
Four days later news came to the manor-house that Meg of the Hills was dying. Since our visit to Meg’s cottage I had seen little of the patroon. This particular afternoon I had spent in my own room in no amiable frame of mind. In fact, I had begun to ask myself why I was at the manor-house at all. I had come to trap the patroon, yet what had I done? I had seen crimes committed before my eyes, and I had been asked to be privy to yet another—the cold-blooded murder of the dwarf. Why did I not go direct to the Earl at New York and expose my new master? In truth, I do not know, yet there were many reasons. In the first place, I still hoped in a vague way to learn more about the circumstances of my sister’s death. I held on, waiting for some bit of evidence that would convict the patroon of her murder. I had not the least doubt that he had murdered her, and the desire for revenge was too sweet to waste upon other crimes. He must meet his punishment for that one and I must be the one to bring him to it.
Yet, as I look back upon these events, I know that there was still a stronger reason than this which stayed my hand, though I did not realize it at the time. Every additional bit of confidence that the patroon put in me made it harder for me to think of betraying my new trust. At times I caught the wild feverish desire of everyone about the manor-house to keep it all away from the knowledge of his daughter. At those times I would be almost willing to draw my sword in defense of the wicked practices of the Red Band rather than have it go to wreck and ruin over the young mistress’ head.
But all these thoughts were cut short by the sound of the patroon’s cane tapping in the corridor towards my door. It was not often that he honored me with a personal visit like this and I rose to receive him.
“Get on your traps,” he said abruptly. “They say that Meg is dying, and, before I could stop her Miriam hurried off to the cottage. Quick man, quick; you must stop her ears again. What if my child should hear what you heard the other night? Hurry, man, would you have me shamed before my daughter?”