That night, after the roughly-prepared meal that topic the place of
dinner, and at which mother and daughter resumed their places as of old,
Hallam sat for some time with Crellock talking in a low tone, while Mrs
Hallam returned to the drawing-room with Julia, both looking perfectly
calm and resigned to their fate.
At last Hallam rose, and followed by Crellock, crossed the hall and
opened the drawing-room door, where his wife and child were seated with
the light of the candles shining softly upon their bended heads.
"It will be all right," he muttered; and he turned round and faced
Crellock, who smiled and nodded.
"Nothing like a little firmness," he said, smiling.
Then Crellock went into the verandah to smoke his cigar and play the
part of watch-dog in case of some interruption to his plans; and, while
Hallam employed himself in his old fashion, drinking himself drunk in
the house of Alcohol his god, the dark calm evening became black night,
and a moist, soft wind from the Pacific sighed gently among the trees.
Crellock walked round the house time after time, peering in at the
windows, and each time he looked there was the heavy stolid face of
Hallam staring before him at vacancy; on the other side of the house
Julia gazing up into her mother's face as she knelt at her feet.
It must have been ten o'clock when, as Crellock once more made his
round, he saw that Hallam was asleep, and that Mrs Hallam had taken up
the candle still burning, and with Julia holding her hand, was looking
round the room as if for a last good-night.
Then together they went to the door, hand in hand; the door closed; the
light shone at the staircase window, then in their bedroom, where he
watched it burn for about a quarter of an hour before it was
extinguished, and all was dark.
"I shan't feel satisfied till I have her safe," he said, as he walked
slowly back to his old look-out that commanded the road.
The wind came in stronger gusts now, for a few minutes, and then seemed
to die quite away, while the clouds that overspread the sky grew so
dense that it was hard to distinguish the trees and bushes a dozen yards
from where he stood.
He finished his cigar, thinking out his plans the while, and at last
coming to the conclusion that it was an unnecessary task this watching,
he was about to make one more turn round the verandah, and then enter by
the window and go to bed, when he fancied he heard a door close, as if
blown by the wind that was once more sighing about the place.
"Just woke up, I suppose," he said, and he walked towards the study
window and looked in.
Hallam had not moved, but was sleeping heavily in his old position.
Crellock listened again, but all was perfectly still. It could not have
been fancy. Certainly he had heard a door bang softly, and the sound
seemed to come from this direction.
He stood thinking, and then went round and tried the front door.
"Fast."
He walked round to the back door, following the verandah all the way,
and found that door also fast.
"I couldn't have been mistaken," he said, as he listened again.
Once more the wind was sighing loudly about the place, but the noise was
not repeated, and he walked on to the dining-room window; but as he laid
his hand upon the glass door and thrust it open, a current of air rushed
in, and there was the same sound: a door blew to with a slight bang.
Crellock closed and fastened the glass door as he stepped out and ran
quickly round to the drawing-room, where it was as he suspected: the
glass door similar to that he had just left was open, and blew to and
fro.
"There's something wrong," he said excitedly, his suspicions being
aroused; and, dashing in, he upset a chair in crossing the room, and it
fell with a crash, but he hurried on into the hall, through to the
study, and caught Hallam by the arm.
"Wake up!" he said excitedly. "Hallam! Wake up, man."
He had to shake him heavily before the drink stupefaction passed off,
and then Hallam stood trembling and haggard, trying to comprehend his
companion's words.
"Wrong?" he said. "Wrong? What's wrong?"
"I don't know yet. Look sharp! Run up to your wife's room. Take the
candle. Quick, man; are you asleep?"
In his dazed state Hallam staggered, and his hand trembled so that he
could hardly keep the light anything like steady. There was the
knowledge, though faintly grasped, that something was terribly wrong.
He gathered that from his companion's excited manner, and, stumbling on
into the hall, blundered noisily up the stairs while Crellock stood
breathing hard and listening.
"Here, Millicent! Julie!" he cried hoarsely; "what's the matter?"
Crellock heard the lock handle turn, and the door thrown open so
violently that it struck against the wall, but there was no reply from
the voices of frightened women.
"Do you hear? Milly--Julie! Why don't you answer?" came from above,
and Crellock's harsh breathing became like the panting of some wild
beast.
For a few moments there was absolute silence; then the sound of
stumbling, heavy steps, and Hallam came out on to the landing.
"Steve!" he cried excitedly, perfectly sober now, "what is it? What
does it mean? They've gone!"
"I knew it," cried Crellock with a furious cry. "I might have seen it
if I had not been a fool. Come down quick! They've not gone far."
Candle in hand, Hallam came staggering down the stairs with his eyes
staring and his face blotched with patches of white.
"They've gone," he stammered hoarsely. "What for? Where have they
gone?"
"Out into the dark night," cried Crellock furiously. "There is only one
way that they could go, and we must have them before they reach the
town."
"Town!" faltered Hallam; "town!" for in the horror of his waking and the
conscience hauntings of the moment, he seemed to see two ghastly white
faces looking up at him from the black waters of the harbour.
"Yes, come along, follow me as quickly as you can," roared Crellock; and
going swiftly through the dining-room he crossed the verandah and dashed
out into the thick darkness that seemed to rise up as a protecting wall
on behalf of those whom he pursued.