The boat dwindled down into a speck upon the water; still I stood there silent. Dunraven seemed ever to escape me, as I had my hand upon his throat. What meant he when he said that he returned to England? Did he speak truth, or was it but some lie to throw me off his track while he remained here to watch my movements?
Was the priest his spy kept here but to watch me, and perhaps the Spaniard also, and report all that we did or said? It seemed so from the diary that I had read. Perhaps Dunraven distrusted the Count as much as he did me, and was keeping an eye on us both.
I was beginning to think that he had good reason to fear the Spaniard, for had not the priest said in the cave to his companion Herrick that he had seen DeNortier walk the floor in agony, and cry out "Margaret! Margaret!"
I knew something of the Count by this time, and realized that he was a dangerous foe. Instead of one rival, it began to look as if I had two. Perhaps I might be able to join forces with DeNortier, and thus outwit Dunraven; then I could settle with the adventurer later. But where had the Spaniard seen Margaret? Echo answered "where?"
And so musing I retraced my steps towards the mansion, my head bent low in thought. The wind was rising again, and we would have a great storm if this but kept up for the night.
It was nearly day when I stood again in my own room. Something hung and dangled from the window, swinging to and fro in the rising wind, and knocking against the side of the house. My God! It could not be!
Rushing to the window, I drew through the grating the rope that hung outside; and there, his face bruised and disfigured, with gaping tongue, a great cut in his breast, hung the body of José, the servant who had released me from the room only a short while before. Cold, stiff, and lifeless he hung, and there, kneeling by his lifeless body, I swore that if God gave me health and strength I would pursue and punish the fiend who had done this deed.