"No. I'm going back to my sister,"
she answered.
"If he leaves me--if he joins Belloc!" the old man muttered, and again
his face flushed.
A few moments afterwards the girl watched him till he disappeared up the
hill.
"I don't believe Carnac will do it," she said to herself. "He's got the
sense, the brains, and the energy; but he won't do it."
She heard a voice behind her, and turned. It was the deformed but potent
Denzil. He was greyer now. His head, a little to one side, seemed sunk in
his square shoulders, but his eyes were bright.
"It's all a bad scrape--that about Fabian Grier," he said. "You can't
ever tell about such things, how they'll go--but no, bagosh!"
CHAPTER IV
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL
John Grier's house had a porch with Corinthian pillars. Its elevation was
noble, but it was rather crudely built, and it needed its grove of maples
to make it pleasant to the eye. It was large but not too ample, and it
had certain rooms with distinct character.
Inside the house, John Grier paused a moment before the door of the
sitting-room where his wife usually sat. All was silent. He opened the
door. A woman rose to meet him. She was dressed in black. Her dark hair,
slightly streaked with grey, gave her distinction.
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