o hesitate as though
about to turn back. And it was in her mind to turn back, to plead for
mercy for this man, this creature. Yet she did not. She flung her head
up. No, she would not ask for mercy for him: Hugh Alston was just.

So in silence they watched her till the darkness had swallowed her.

"So you refused to accept my warning, Slotman?"

"I--I refuse to have anything to do with you. It is no business of
yours, kindly allow me--"

Slotman would have gone. Hugh thrust out a strong arm and barred his
way.

"Wait!" he said, "blackmailer!"

"I--I was asking for a loan."

"A gift of money with threats--lying, infamous threats. How shall I
deal with you?" Hugh frowned as in thought. "How can a man deal with a
dog like you? Dog--may all dogs forgive me the libel! Shall I thrash
you? Shall I tear the clothes from your body, and thrash you and fling
you, bleeding and tattered, into that field? Shall I hand you over to
the Police?"

"You--you dare not," Slotman said; his teeth were chattering. "It will
mean her name being dragged in the mud, the whole thing coming out.
You--you dare not do it."

"You are right. I dare not, for the sake of her name--the name of such
a woman must never be uttered in connection with such a thing as
yourself. How, then, shall I deal with you? It must be the thrashing,
yet it is not enough. It is a pity the duel has gone out, not that you
would have fought me with a sword or pistol, Slotman, still--Yes, it
must be the thrashing."

"If you touch me--"

Hugh laughed sharply. "If I touch you, what?"

"I shall call for help. I shall summon you. I--"

"Put your hands up."

"Help! help! help!"

Down the road the tired chauffeur slumbered peacefully on the seat of
the shabby car. He heard nothing, save some distant unintelligible
sounds and the cooing of a wood-pigeon in an adjacent thicket.

And then presently there came down the road a flying figure, the figure
of a man who sobbed as he ran, a man from whom the clothes hung in
ribbons, a man with wild staring eyes, and panting, labouring chest. He
stumbled as he ran, and picked himself up again, to fall again. So,
running, stumbling, falling, he came at last to the car and shrieked at
the driver to awaken.

CHAPTER XL

"IS IT THE END?"

Lady Linden, wearing a lilac printed cotton sunbonnet, her skirts pinned
up about her, was busy with a trowel, disordering certain flower-beds
that presently the gardeners would com