Out of a Labyrinth Part 42

I told her how I was called to the rescue by Jim, and gave a brief outline of after events.

"And has all been done that can be?" she asked, after a moment of silence.

"Not quite all, Miss Manvers. We have yet to find this would-be murderer and bring him to justice." I spoke with my eyes fixed on her face.

She started, flushed, and a new excited eagerness leaped to her eyes.

"Will you do that? _Can_ you?"

"It shall be done," I replied, still watching her face.

She gave a little fluttering sigh, drew her veil across her arm, and turned to go.

"If I can be of service, in any way," she began, hesitatingly.

"We shall not hesitate to ask for your services," I interrupted, walking beside her to the door, and from thence to the gate, a little to the annoyance of Dr. Hess, I fancied.

As I a.s.sisted her to her seat in the phaeton, and put the reins in her hands, I saw Arch Brookhouse galloping rapidly from the direction of town. And, just as she had turned her ponies homeward, and I paused at the gate to nod a final good-bye, he reined his horse up sharply beside her vehicle.

"How is the doctor, Adele?" he asked, in a tone evidently meant for my ears.

"Don't speak to me," she replied, vehemently, and utterly regardless of my proximity. "Don't speak to me. I wish it were _you_ in his place."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed up her whip, as though her first instinct was to draw the lash across his face, but she struck the ponies instead, and they flew up the hill at a reckless gait.

As Brookhouse turned in the saddle to look after the flying phaeton, I saw a dark frown cross his face.

But the next instant his brow cleared, and he turned again to bestow on me a look of sharp scrutiny.

Springing from his horse, and throwing the bridle across his arm, he approached the gate.

"Did you hear her?" he exclaimed. "That is what I get for being an amiable fellow. My friend is not amiable to-day."

"Evidently not," I responded, carelessly. "Lovers' quarrels are fierce affairs, but very fleeting."

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I have been so unfortunate as to offend her," he said. "By to-morrow she will have forgotten the circ.u.mstances."

"Will she, indeed?" thought I. "We shall see, my friend."

But I made no audible comment, and he dismissed the subject to ask the stereotyped questions, "How was Dr. Bethel? Could he be of any service?

How did it happen?"

While I was answering these questions with the best grace I could muster, there came the patter of horse's hoofs, and Jim Long rode up to the side gate, dismounted with a careless swing, nodded to me, and, opening the gate, led the doctor's horse stableward.

The look of surprise on my companion's face was instantly followed by a malicious smile, which, in its turn, was banished to give place to a more proper expression.

"Long has been giving the doctor's horse some exercise," he said, half inquiringly.

"I believe he has been executing some commission for Miss Barnard," I fabricated, unblus.h.i.+ngly. "Long has been very useful here."

"Indeed," carelessly; then glancing at his watch, "nearly noon, I see."

He turned, vaulted into his saddle, and touched his hat. "Good-morning.

In case of necessity, command me;" and with a second application of his finger-tip to the brim of his hat, he shook the reins and cantered away.

As soon as he was out of sight I went straight to the stable where Jim was bountifully feeding the tired horse.

"Well, Long?"

"It's all right, captain. I've had a hard ride, but it's _done_."

"And the men?"

"Will be at the cabin to-night."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JIM GIVES BAIL.

Upon Jim's reappearance in the cottage, Mrs. Harris installed him as nurse, and, herself, set about improvising a kitchen in the rear room.

Mr. Harris had been despatched to town for sundry articles, and, at noon, we were served with a plentiful lunch, of which we partook in rather primitive fas.h.i.+on.

Not long after, while Jim and I were conversing out under the trees, and Mr. Harris was discoursing to two Trafton ladies who had called to proffer service and sympathy, I saw Gerald Brown coming toward the cottage, and guessing that his real business was with me, whatever pretext he might present, I advanced to the gate and met him there.

He carried in his hand a telegraph envelope, which he proffered me ostentatiously over the gate.

I opened it and read:

N. Y., etc., etc.

Will come to-night.

DENHAM.

Underneath this was written:

_They are wild in town; are about to arrest Jim Long for the shooting of Bethel._

Two pair of eyes, at least, were looking out from the cottage door and window.

I turned the message over, and resting it upon the gate post, wrote the following: