"There is a limit, you may find, to human credulity. You can not wash out the recollections of the past. Do you think it was any light cause that drove her out of the world, out of society, refinement, and all that women of her stamp hold dear? Every day she has spent here, every rude face and lonely hour that she has seen or felt has cried out against you. Why, man, you murdered her name, and that is a crime no woman could ever forgive."
Endicott was silent a moment before the impressiveness of his companion. Then, by an effort, he broke into a short laugh: "'Is Saul also among the prophets?' Since when has Eben Rothven set himself up as a judge of the workings of the human soul? Of course, what you say may be true as holy writ. But what of it? Fair means or foul—I don't mince matters. This is no new plan of mine, and so, when opportunity comes, I can decide on my course quickly. Delay never makes a man. She knows nothing of the financial aspect of the affair, even now; while I did, years before it was revealed to the world, or to those who chose to notice. The time for action has come. Are you with me?"
The man called Rothven hesitated a moment, as if weighing the matter in his mind; then answered simply: "I am."
"Come on, then," and the two left the spot.
Much of this conversation was Greek to Blaze, but, somehow, he got it in his head that it related to his new-made friend, Harry Winkle. He seated himself leisurely against the tree to think it all over. Both these conspirators were strangers to him, they did not belong to Martin's men; who were they? He might perhaps have learned more as to that by following them, but he neglected to do so. And, pondering over the thing, he must have fallen asleep, for consciousness faded away. For how long, he could not at once, perhaps, have told, but he came back to life with a sudden shock, that brought him upon his feet like the thrill of a strong galvanic battery. He was wakened by a woman's scream, long, shrill, cutting into and through his ears like an Indian's death-wail.
He listened to catch it again, but it was not repeated. For a moment all was silence; then he heard the steady beat of horses' hoofs stretching away at fullest gallop, and then, the sharp, quick report of a rifle. He heard the footsteps coming nearer and nearer, and he crouched in the shadow of the tree, with his hand upon the lock of his weapon, almost nervously waiting for whatever might follow.
Suddenly he felt a hand laid upon his shoulder. He started, and turned with a quick motion of offense. It was Winkle, rifle in hand. The moonlight fell past the tree full upon his face, on which was an excited if not a wild look.
"Am I crazy to-night? or did you hear it, too? I've seen a ghost this night, and now, again, I heard it scream for help. What was it, Blaze?"
This he hurriedly asked.
"If yer a lunatic there's a pair on 'em, fur I heard it too. Lay low here a minnit, an you'll see some more on it."