Other eyes than mine had seen her thus … other hands … other lips…. Before me flashed a vision of Devereux's evil features hatefully triumphant. And yet … Great God, was this indeed the face of a wanton? Could such horror possibly be?
In imagination the dead lived again, the past returned, and through my closed lids I saw Devereux—her "slave and master" lean to gloat upon her defenceless beauty, bold-eyed and on his cruel lips the smile of a satyr…. And bowing my sweating temples between quivering fists, I ground my teeth in agony.
Now as I crouched thus, plagued by the obscene demons of my imagination, I was aroused by a distant sound and opening my eyes saw how the sun touched Diana's sleeping form like the blessing of God. And yet … what of that night at Raydon Manor? She had volunteered me no word of explanation—not one—and why?
Up to me, borne on the sunny air, came the sound of a whistle that brought me to my feet eager for action, for conflict or death itself—anything rather than the harrowing torment of my thoughts. Very cautiously I crossed the uneven floor and lifting the trap as silently as possible, I set the ladder in place and descended. The whistling had stopped, but in its stead I caught a sound of stealthy movement outside the barn, and glancing about, I presently espied my whip where I had dropped it last night, and with this in my hand I gently unbarred the doors and opening them a little way, stepped out into the radiant morning. And then, tossing aside my whip, I ran forward, both hands extended in eager greeting.
"Why, Jerry!" I exclaimed. "O Jerry Jarvis, you come like an angel of heaven!"
"Lord!" exclaimed the Tinker, grasping my hands very hard. "Lord love you, Mr. Vereker—"
"Call me Perry as you used."
"Why, then—here's j'y, Perry—but as to angels, who ever see an angel in cord breeches—an' patched at that! But God bless us all—what should bring you hereabouts—"
"Love, Jerry—love—"
"You mean—Anna?"