In that one instant while she waits, she misses her prey—she emerges, but in the darkness nothing is to be seen or heard.
As she stands irresolute, she suddenly hears a low, distinct whistle to the left. It may be the call of a night-bird—it may be a signal.
She glides to the left, straining her eyes through the gloom. It is many minutes before she can see anything, except the vaguely waving trees—then a fiery spark, a red eye glows through the night. She has run her prey to earth—it is the lighted tip of a cigar.
She draws near—her heart throbs. Dimly she sees the tall figure of a man; close to him the slender, slighter figure of a woman. They are talking in whispers, and she is mortally afraid of coming too close. What is to keep them from murdering her too?
"I tell you, you must go, and at once," are the first words, she hears Inez Catheron speaking, in a passionate, intense whisper. "I tell you I am suspected already; do you think you can escape much longer? If you have any feeling for yourself, for me, go, go, I beseech you, at once! They are searching for you now, I warn you, and if they find you—"
"If they find me," the man retorts, doggedly, "it can't be much worse than it is. Things have been so black with me for years, that they can't be much blacker. But I'll go. I'm not over anxious to stay, Lord knows. Give me the money and I'll be off."
She takes from her bosom a package, and hands it to him; by the glow of the red cigar-tip Jane sees her.
"It is all I have—all I can get, jewels and all," she says; "enough to keep you for years with care. Now go, and never come back—your coming has done evil enough, surely."
Jane Pool catches the words—the man mutters some sullen, inaudible reply. Inez Catheron speaks again in the same passionate voice.
"How dare you say so?" she cries, stamping her foot. "You wretch! whom it is my bitterest shame to call brother. But for you she would be alive and well. Do you think I do not know it? Go—living or dead, I never want to look upon your face again!"