t, clearing a hedge, I galloped ventre-a-terre across the meadow
towards the little coppice by the waterside. As I rode I saw no sign of
any moving thing. No sound disturbed the evening stillness save the dull
thump of my horse's hoofs upon the turf, and a great fear arose in my
heart that I might come too late.

At last I reached the belt of trees, and my fears grew into certainty.
The place was deserted.

Then a fresh hope sprang up. Perchance, thinking of my warning, she had
seen the emptiness of her suspicions towards me, and had pursued that
walk of hers in another direction.

But when I had penetrated to the little open space within that cluster
of naked trees, I had proof overwhelming that the worst had befallen.
Not only on the moist ground was stamped the impress of struggling feet,
but on a branch I found a strip of torn green velvet, and, remembering
the dress she had worn that day, I understood to the full the
significance of that rag, and, understanding it, I groaned aloud.

CHAPTER XII. THE RESCUE

Some precious moments did I waste standing with that green rag betwixt
my fingers, and I grew sick and numb in body and in mind. She was gone!
Carried off by a man I had reason to believe she hated, and whom God
send she might have no motive to hate more deeply hereafter!

The ugly thought swelled until it blotted out all others, and in its
train there came a fury upon me that drove me to do by instinct that
which earlier I should have done by reason. I climbed back into the
saddle, and away across the meadow I went, journeying at an angle with
the road, my horse's head turned in the direction of Blois. That road at
last was gained, and on I thundered at a stretched gallop, praying that
my hard-used beast might last until the town was reached.

Now, as I have already said, I am not a man who easily falls a prey
to excitement. It may have beset me in the heat of battle, when the
fearsome lust of blood and death makes of every man a raving maniac,
thrilled with mad joy at every stab he deals, and laughing with fierce
passion at every blow he takes, though in the taking of it his course
be run. But, saving at such wild times, never until then could I recall
having been so little master of myself. There was a fever in me; all
hell was in my blood, and, stranger still, and hitherto unknown at any
season, there was a sickly fear that mastered me, and drew out great
beads of sweat upon my brow. Fear for