The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a piteous little cry; and there, behind us, in the outlet of the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and Ronald.
The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a hand on Flora’s arm.
“You will come home at once.”
I touched his shoulder. “Surely not,” I said, “seeing that the spectacle apparently wants but ten minutes of its climax.”
He swung on me in a passion. “For God’s sake, St. Ives, don’t force a quarrel now, of all moments! Man, haven’t you compromised my sister enough?”
“It seems to me that, having set a watch on your sister at the suggestion, and with the help of a casual Major of Foot, you might in decency reserve the word ‘compromise’ for home consumption; and further, that against adversaries so poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister may be pardoned for putting her resentment into action.”
“Major Chevenix is a friend of the family.” But the lad blushed as he said it.
“The family?” I echoed. “So? Pray did your aunt invite his help? No, no, my dear Ronald; you cannot answer that. And while you play the game of insult to your sister, sir, I will see that you eat the discredit of it.”
“Excuse me,” interposed the Major, stepping forward. “As Ronald said, this is not the moment for quarrelling; and, as you observed, sir, the climax is not so far off. The runner and his men are even now coming round the hill. We saw them mounting the slope, and (I may add) your cousin’s carriage drawn up on the road below. The fact is, Miss Gilchrist has been traced to the hill: and as it secretly occurred to us that the quarry might be her objective, we arranged to take the ascent on this side. See there!” he cried, and flung out a hand.
I looked up. Sure enough, at that instant, a grey-coated figure appeared on the summit of the hill, not five hundred yards away to the left. He was followed closely by my friend of the moleskin waistcoat; and the pair came sidling down the slope towards us.