  LENISE ELROY was troubled; she felt uneasy, afraid of something, she hardly knew what; she had a presentiment that a calamity hung over her, that much trouble was in store. Fletcher Denyer was irritated. She was not at all like the gay woman of a few days back; what ailed her? He questioned her, received no satisfactory reply. "I want to go to town," he said. "I don't; I like being here." "But I must return to London, I have a lot of business to see to." She smiled; when he talked about business it amused her. He noticed it and said angrily: "You never think I do anything in the way of business." "I judge by results," she answered. "And I don't show any, is that it?" She nodded. "Look here, Len, we've been together for a couple "I'm sure I've no wish to do so." "There's a good deal more in me than you imagine. Why didn't you speculate in those Mexican shares I told you about? You'd have made a pile." "I should; you were right in that instance. It has always struck me you know a good deal about Mexico." "Perhaps I do; it's a great country, I'm told." "I suppose you have not been there?" she said. "If I had, I should probably be better off." "If you must go to London, go. I'll follow in a few days," she said. "You seem to have suddenly taken an interest in the place." "I have, I like it. It is my first visit. I think it beautiful," she said. He wondered why she wished to remain, but did not question her further. In the afternoon he went to London. She was glad to be alone; she wanted to be quiet and think. Supposing Hector Woodridge had escaped from Dartmoor, and was not dead, what would happen? What would he do to her? She trembled, felt faint; there was no telling to what lengths such a man infuriated at the cruelty and misery he had suffered, might go. She She meant to converse with him at any cost, and went out with that intention. Carl had nothing to do but idle time away; he was quite certain the prisoner had either got clear off, or was lying dead on the moor. He saw Mrs. Elroy coming toward him, and recognized her as the lady Brack had taken out in his boat. She evidently intended speaking to him. "You are Mr. Hackler, I believe?" she asked. "I am; at your service." "The boatman told me who you were. You come from the prison at Dartmoor?" "I do." "A man has escaped, I want to know more about it. The boatman gave me to understand he was tried for murder in Yorkshire some years ago. If this is the man who escaped I know him, I know the family," she said. "What name?" asked Hackler. "Woodridge. Hector Woodridge," she said. "I believe it's the same man," said Hackler, interested. "Will he be caught?" "If he's alive he's sure to be taken." "But you think it probable he is dead?" she questioned. "I think it quite possible." "Are you here on the lookout for him?" "Yes." "Surely he would not be likely to come to Torquay." "I don't know so much about that. You see he might be able to get away by sea if he had friends, or some one willing to help him," said Hackler. "Who would help him? The risk would be too great." "There's many men take risks for each other. You seem interested in him." "I am. I know him, a dangerous man, I should not care to meet him again," she said. "He had not that reputation at Dartmoor. He was quiet and inoffensive, about the last man we'd have thought would try to escape," he said. "And you have no doubt he is Hector Woodridge?" "No, I don't think there's much doubt about that; in fact none at all. It is improbable he will meet you again. Even if he has got away he'll go out of the country into some safe hiding-place; he's not likely to roam about England," he said. She thanked him, asked him to accept a sovereign, which he did not refuse. Carl Hackler watched her as she walked away; Carl wondered why she was so anxious to find out who the escaped prisoner was. She must have some personal interest in him; she did not seem like a woman who wasted her time over trifles. He determined to see Brack and hear what he had to say about the lady. He had a good deal of regard for Brack, also a shrewd idea that in some way or another the boatman had the better of him. Brack was nothing loath to chat when Carl came up. "All the ladies seem fond of you, Brack," he said. "Yes, I don't say as they're not; I often has ladies in my boat," he said. "Rather a smart woman you took out to-day." "A very pretty craft, built on fine lines," said Brack. "I've had a talk with her. She's interested in the man I'm on the lookout for." "Is she?" "You know she is. Didn't she speak about him when you took her out?" "Maybe she did, maybe she didn't." Carl laughed. "You're a sly old sea dog," he said. "Now Brack, listen to me. That lady is interested in Hector Woodridge, No. 832; that's his name, certain "Afraid of him, is she? By gad, I thought the same thing." "Then you talked about him in the boat?" "Yes, that's so." "What did she say?" "Not much; she knew the family, his family, knew all about the trial." "Did she now? What was the woman like?" "Which woman?" "The wife of the man Woodridge shot." Brack was thoughtful. "What yer drivin' at, Carl, my boy?" "I've got a kind of notion she must have been mixed up in the case," said Carl. "There was only one woman in it—the wife," said Brack. "Gosh!" he exclaimed, and looked at Carl with a startled expression. "Well?" said Carl. "I thought I'd seen her face somewhere afore, pictures of her, photos, or something." "Yes; go on." "I may be mistaken; I'd not like to say as much without being certain." "You can trust me; it shall go no farther." "She's like the wife, the woman whose husband he shot," said Brack. "You've hit it," said Carl. "That accounts for it; she is the woman, no doubt." "Don't hurry; it may be only a likeness." "You'd not have remembered it if she'd not been the woman," said Carl. "It's stuck in your memory." "If she's the one, no wonder she's afraid to meet him—he'd do for her." "I don't think so. He must have been precious fond of her, or he'd never have done time for her." "Come home with me and have a talk," said Brack, and Carl went. Mrs. Elroy found it slow at night, but her thoughts were busy. She was restless, ate very little dinner, hardly spoke to Mrs. Brady, or her husband, and left them as soon as she could decently do so. "Seems out of sorts," said Brady. "Fletcher Denyer has gone to town," was Mrs. Brady's comment, and she spoke as though that explained everything. "Do you think she's fond of him?" he asked. "Yes, but she hardly knows it." "Is he fond of her?" "He's not in love with her; he's infatuated, that's Mrs. Elroy, for want of something better to do, looked over some back copies of the Torquay Times, and came across an account of the races. She saw Picton Woodridge had ridden four winners, which surprised her not a little; she had not seen him for years, had no desire to meet him. Then she read about the escape from Dartmoor; there was not much about it, she gleaned very little fresh information. A paragraph that attracted her close attention was about Picton Woodridge's yacht, the Sea-mew. A description of it was given and at the end it stated, "She left the bay during the night, her departure was rather unexpected." Picton Woodridge's yacht in Torbay at the time Hector escaped from Dartmoor. Was this a coincidence, or was it part of a well-laid plan? She shivered, felt cold, a chill passed over her. She rang the bell and ordered a brandy; this put new life into her for the moment. Her brain worked actively; she was piecing things together. The Sea-mew left in the night unexpectedly. Why? Had Hector Woodridge contrived to board her? Had Picton and Captain Ben Bruce helped him? The thought tormented her, she could not sleep, she tossed uneasily on her bed. "He's dead! Hackler says so, the boatman says so; he could not live on the moor. It is impossible. How could he reach the Sea-mew? Supposing he seeks me out, what would he do?" A cold perspiration broke out over her body. "He'd kill me if I didn't speak," she said with a shudder. |
|
