ood quite still,
confronting him, allowing him to look into her face, to read the
expression of her eyes.

In order to do this he had raised the candle, his hand trembling
perceptibly, and the feeble light quivered in his grasp, illumining her
face at fitful intervals, creeping down her rigid shoulders and arms, as
far as her hands, which were tightly clenched. It danced upon his face
too, lighting it with weird gleams and fitful sparks, showing the wild
look in his eyes, the glitter almost of madness in the dilated pupils,
the dark iris sharply outlined against the glassy orbs. It licked the
trembling lips and distorted mouth, the drawn nostrils and dank hair,
almost alive with that nameless fear.

"You would denounce me?" he murmured, and the cry--choked and
toneless--could scarce rise from the dry parched throat.

"Yes!" she said.

He uttered a violent curse.

"You devil ... you ..."

"You have time to go," she said calmly, "'tis a long while 'twixt now
and dawn."

He understood. She only would denounce him if he stayed. She wished him
no evil, only desired him out of her sight. He tried to say something
flippant, something cruel and sneering, but she stopped him with a
peremptory gesture.

"Go!" she said, "or I might forget everything save that you killed my
son."

For a moment she thought that her life was in danger at his hands, so
awful in its baffled rage was the expression of his face when he
understood that indeed she knew everything. She even at that moment
longed that his cruel instincts should prompt him to kill her. He could
never succeed in hiding that crime and retributive justice would of a
surety overtake him then, without any help from her.

No doubt he, too, thought of this as the weird flicker of the
candle-light showed him her unflinching face, for the next moment, with
another muttered curse, and a careless shrug of the shoulders, he turned
on his heel, and slowly went upstairs, candle in hand.

Editha watched him until his massive figure was merged in the gloom of
the heavy oak stairway. Then she went into the withdrawing-room and
waited.

CHAPTER XLIII

THE SANDS OF EPPLE

Five minutes later Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse, clad in thick dark doublet
and breeches and wearing a heavy cloak, once more descended the stairs
of Acol Court. He saw the light in the withdrawing-room and knew that
Editha was there, mutely watching his departure.

But he did not care to speak to he