The man rose softly then from his hands and knees, rubbing the former to
get rid of the dirt that might be clinging there, and then taking out a
white handkerchief to brush his knees--a needless operation, for the
turf was short and dry, and left no marks.
Then, panting heavily, though his exertions had been slight, he stood
listening again, not daring to go nearer to the edge of the shaft.
All was perfectly quiet, and, with a sigh of relief, he crept back to
the pathway and listened.
All was still here too, but he could not flee yet without going back and
searching about to see if there was any thing dropped--handkerchief,
cloak, or the like.
But no; all was apparently as it should be, and he could find no trace;
so once more going cautiously to the footpath, he listened, and, all
being still, he walked swiftly in the direction of Carnac, till,
reaching the path down to the shore, he turned down it quickly, and came
in contact with Geoffrey Trethick.
"Hallo!" exclaimed the latter, sharply, "do you want to knock a man off
the cliff? Oh, it's you, Mr Tregenna!"
Tregenna did not answer, but, trembling in every limb, pressed on to
reach the shore; but before he had gone many yards a malicious spirit
seemed to tempt Geoffrey, and he called after the retreating figure,--
"If you are going to see Miss Mullion, Mr Tregenna, you will find the
upper path the better."
"Damn!" muttered Tregenna, as he almost staggered now down the cliff;
"what cursed fate sent him here to-night?"
He was so completely unnerved by the encounter, that he paused for a few
minutes to try and recover himself.
"If I could--if I could," he muttered; "but he is too strong. My God!
what shall I do?"
The horror of discovery was so great that for a time he could not
proceed, and in imagination he saw the body of his victim brought to the
surface, and Geoffrey Trethick bearing witness of having seen him near
the spot.
By degrees, though, he grew calmer, as he felt there was very little
chance of poor Madge's body ever being found, the old shaft being many
hundred feet deep. Besides, there was nothing to make people think she
had been thrown down there. Even if she were found, was it not far more
probable that she had committed suicide, especially as she had attempted
it once before?
"I'll not go," he muttered. "Better to face it out. Bah! there is
nothing to face."
He stopped and lit a cigar, the necessity for concealment having gone.
Geoffrey had spoiled that portion of his plan, namely, to reach the
other side of the town unseen. On the contrary, he felt now disposed to
court observation, and walked on smoking along the rugged shore to the
slope by the harbour, up which he passed, exchanging greetings with Tom
Jennen and one or two men who were leaning over the rail that protected
the edge of the cliff.
"It's gashly dark night, sir. Bad walking down there, bain't it?"
"Well, yes, it is rough," said Tregenna, "but it does for a change."
"Hah!" he ejaculated, taking a long breath, as he walked slowly up
towards An Morlock; "it is hard work, but I dare say I can manage to
keep cool."
But he could not, for once more a sensation as of panic seized upon him,
and something seemed to urge him to fly for his life before it was too
late. For he recalled Madge's visit to him, and Chynoweth's knowledge
of that visit, and what she had said.
On all sides black threatening shadows of impending danger seemed to
rise about him, and it was only by a savage wrench that he tore himself
from the spot, and went on to his own house, where he washed, and
carefully brushed his clothes, after taking a goodly glass of brandy.
This last gave him the nerve he had lost, and, feeling calmer, he went
out once more into the cool night air.
Here he lit a fresh cigar, and at last, perfectly calm and unruffled, he
went up the drive to the great house, gazing about him with a satisfied
air, as if he claimed the place now as his own, and, nodding to the
servant who admitted him, he took off hat and gloves, crossed the
handsome hall, and stepped into the well-lit drawing-room.
Rhoda was speaking angrily as the door closed behind him, and she did
not hear his entry. It was evidently her final remark after much that
had gone before, and John Tregenna stood there paralysed, as the words
fell from her lips.
"I'll not believe it," she cried. "Mr Trethick must have sent you
here. What proof have you that Mr Tregenna is the wicked man you say?"
"His own looks," said Madge, as she stood there with flashing eyes and
ashy face, seeming to the wretched man like some avenging spirit
pointing at him with white and quivering hand. "Ask him, if you will,
though you can read the truth there. Now, Miss Penwynn, can you marry
such a man as this?"
Rhoda made no answer, for John Tregenna's brain had reeled. He had made
two or three attempts to master, his craven dread, but in vain. Not an
hour ago he had cast, as he believed, Madge Mullion down that hideous
chasm in the earth, had heard her dying shrieks; and then, gloating over
his release from one who would have blasted all his plans, he had come
straight on to An Morlock, to find her standing pointing at him with
denouncing finger, and telling Rhoda Penwynn of his guilt.
He had striven, fought like a drowning man, but in vain; and, after
clutching at a table to save himself, he fell with a heavy crash upon
the floor.