Jane cast herself at his knees. 'She is not with the coastguard. She knows nothing. Help me to find her. I will forgive what you did to Philip and my father.'
'Forgive!' he shouted. His face flamed. 'You forgive! That is news! Begone!' He stopped, caught her under the arms, lifted, carried her bodily, and flung her outside his door. 'I have harboured you too long. If either of you were dying on my doorstep, I would not open to take you in.'
CHAPTER XVI
JOB'S SECRET
The frantic woman lay in a heap at the door, crouching against it, in such a tumult of brain and heart, of distress at the loss of her child, and rage against the captain, that she was incapable of rising. She remained panting, biting her fingers, beating her head, and sobbing.
But the very violence of her emotions exhausted their force, and presently she rose to her feet and reeled away.
Whither should she go? In what direction look? Already a cold light was beginning to show over the Rousdon heights. A November day was at hand. The bushes deepened into intense blackness in contrast with the paling skies. The fangs of chalk seemed to gleam as teeth exposed against her.
Rattenbury had bidden her seek Winefred at the coastguards' station, but the officer had declared his ignorance of the whereabouts of the girl.
The charge of having betrayed him made by Captain Job served as an excuse for ridding himself of guests whom he had come to regard as encumbrances if not as enemies. Jane knew her daughter sufficiently to be aware that the charge was groundless. Winefred was not one to show treachery to the man whose house had sheltered her.