he had looked back once or twice and seen two dark figures
walking some fifty yards behind him on the road which he himself had
just traversed.

At the moment he had imagined that they were some village folk, wending
their way towards Acol: now he was conscious of nerve-racking irritation
at the thought that if he had only turned the mare's head back toward
the Court--as he had at one time intended to do--he could have averted
this present meeting--it almost seemed like a confrontation--here, in
this cottage on the self-same spot, where thought of murder had first
struck upon his brain.

There was something inexplicable, strangely puzzling now in Sue's
attitude.

When de Chavasse had entered, she had risen from her chair and, as if
deliberately, had walked over to the spot where she had stood during
that momentous interview, when she relinquished her fortune entirely and
without protest, into the hands of the man whom she had married, and
whom she believed to be her lord.

Her gaze now--calm and fixed, and withal vaguely searching--rested on
her guardian's face. The fixity of her look increased his nerve-tension.
The others, too, were regarding him with varying feelings which were
freely expressed in their eyes. Boatfield seemed upset and somewhat
resentful, the old woman sullen, despite the deference in her attitude,
Lambert defiant, wrathful, nay! full of an incipient desire to avenge
past wrongs.

And dominating all, there was Editha's look of bewilderment, of
puzzledom in her face at a mystery whereat her senses were beginning to
reel, that mute questioning of the eyes, which speaks of turbulent
thoughts within.

Sir Marmaduke uttered an exclamation of impatience.

"You must return to the Court and at once," he said, avoiding Sue's
gaze and speaking directly to Editha, "the men are outside, with
lanterns. You'll have to walk quickly an you wish to reach home before
twilight."

But even while he spoke, Sue--not heeding him--had turned to Squire
Boatfield. She went up to him, holding out her hands as if in
instinctive childlike appeal for protection, to a kindly man.

"This mystery is horrible!" she murmured.

Boatfield took her small hands in his, patting them gently the while,
desiring to soothe and comfort her, for she seemed deeply agitated and
there was a wild look of fear from time to time in her pale face.

"Sir Marmaduke is right," said the squire gently, "this is indeed no
place for your ladys