Begone."
For a moment Jethro Fawe stood like one who did not understand what was
said to him, but suddenly a look of triumph and malice came into his
face, and his eyes lighted with a reckless fire. He threw back his head,
and laughed with a strange, offensive softness. Then, waving a hand to
the window from which Fleda had gone, he swung his cap on his head and
plunged into the trees.
A moment afterwards his voice came back exultingly, through the morning
air:
"But a Gorgio sleeps 'neath the greenwood tree
He'll broach my tan no more:
And my love, she sleeps afar from me
But near to the churchyard door."
As the old man turned heavily towards the house, and opened the outer
door, Fleda met him.
"What did you mean when you said that Ingolby's eyes would not feed upon
me?" she asked in a low tone of fear.
A look of compassion came into the old man's face. He took her hand.
"Come and I will tell you," he said.
CHAPTER XII
"LET THERE BE LIGHT"
In Ingolby's bedroom, on the night of the business at Barbazon's Tavern,
Dr. Rockwell received a shock. His face, naturally colourless, was almost
white, and his eyes were moist. He had what the West called nerve. That
the crisis through which he had passed was that of a friend's life did
not lessen the poignancy of the experience.
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