a quick, sudden
gesture she closed the door behind her. The light was no longer there,
but they knew that she was outside the house, and that the appointment
would be kept.

What an age it seemed before they heard her footsteps. She came very
slowly, putting one foot gingerly before the other, as if afraid of
falling over something in the darkness. Once or twice she stopped
altogether, looking round, no doubt, to make sure of her whereabouts.
At that instant the moon shone out from behind a cloud, and they saw her
dark figure a short distance on. The light enabled her to see the
withered oak, for she came rapidly towards it. As she approached, she
satisfied herself apparently that she was the first on the ground, for
she slackened her pace once more and walked in the listless way that
people assume when they are waiting. The clouds were overtaking the
moon again, and the light was getting dimmer.

"I can see her still," said Ezra in a whisper, grasping his father's
wrist in his excitement.

The old man said nothing, but he peered through the darkness with eager,
straining eyes.

"There she is, standing out a little from the oak," the young merchant
said, pointing with a quivering finger. "She's not near enough for him
to reach her."

"He's coming out from the shadow now," the other said huskily.
"Don't you see him crawling along the ground?"

"I see him," returned the other in the same subdued, awestruck voice.
"Now he has stopped; now he goes on again! My God, he's close behind
her! She is looking the other way."

A thin ray of light shot down between the clouds. In its silvery
radiance two figures stood out hard and black, that of the unconscious
girl and of the man who crouched like a beast of prey behind her.
He made a step forward, which brought him within a yard of her. She may
have heard the heavy footfall above the shriek of the storm, for she
turned suddenly and faced him. At the same instance she was struck down
with a crashing blow. There was no time for a prayer, no time for a
scream. One moment had seen her a magnificent woman in all the pride of
her youthful beauty, the next left her a poor battered, senseless wreck.
The navvy had earned his blood-money.

At the sound of the blow and the sight of the fall both the old man and
the young ran out from their place of concealment. Burt was standing
over the body, his bludgeon in his hand.

"Not even a groan!" he said. "What d'ye thi