"It is the law which will protect me from you," answered Mehetabel.
"I am fain to learn how."
"How! I have but to go before a magistrate and tell how you tried to poison your own child—how, when that failed, you tried to smother it. And, Jonas," she added—as she saw his face grow ashen, and a foam bubble form on his lips—"and, Jonas," she stepped forward, and he backed—his glassy eyes on her face, "and, Jonas," she said, "look here, I have this stone. With the like of this you sought to kill me in the moor." She raised it above her head, "you would-be murderer of your wife and your child—I am free from you." She took another step forward—he reeled back and vanished—disappeared instantly from her sight with a scream—instantly and absolutely, as when the earth opened its mouth at the word of Moses and swallowed up Korah.
CHAPTER XLIV.
AGAIN: IRONSTONE.
Mehetabel heard shouts, exclamations, and saw Thomas Rocliffe and his son, Samuel, come up over the stile from the lane, and James Colpus running towards her.
What had happened? Whither had Jonas vanished? She drew back and passed her hand, still holding the ironstone, over her face.
Then she saw Thomas and Samuel stoop, kneel, and Thomas swing himself down and also disappear; thereupon up came the farmer.
"What is it? Has he fallen in—into the kiln?"
That the reader may understand what had occurred, it is necessary that a few words of explanation should be given.