"How did you get out of the house?"

"I climbed out of a window, when the nurse and the policeman were not looking."

"Bloomin' clever, that," he murmured. His eyes were watching her closely, and to himself he was saying: "Gad, what a beauty she is, in spite of what she has suffered!"

"I am going away--far away!" she went on, in a low voice. "Oh, I cannot, cannot stay here."

"You can't travel in your condition, Margaret." He pulled thoughtfully at his mutton-chop whiskers. "You let me help you."

"You?"

"Yes. Come, give me your arm," and he caught hold of her, as if to a.s.sist her to arise.

"No, no! Please leave me!" she begged. "I can take care of myself.

Only give me the chance to get away!"

"Margaret! You are out of your mind."

"No, I am not."

"I know better. And I am not going to let you go away. You shall go with me."

"Oh, Mr. Styles! Please go away."

"No," he answered firmly. "Come, you have got to go with me."

CHAPTER XXIX

A GLa.s.s OF POISON

Margaret could do nothing but stare at the man before her. He was heavy-set and powerful, and wont to having his own way.

"Mr. Styles--" she began, but he put his hand over her mouth.

"You are sick--out of your head," he interrupted. "I know what is best, and you must do as I say. Come on." And he pulled her forward by the hand.

"Where to?"

"Not very far."

"I--I do not wish to go to your home."

"I'll not take you there, don't fear."

"You are going to hand me over to the--the authorities."

"Never! Come. I won't hurt you."

He led the way through the woods, across a small stream and past a spot where some wild berries grew. Then they struck a trail leading up a hillside. The place was new to her.

"I want to know where you are taking me," she said presently, and came to a halt.

"To a place where you will be safe."

"That isn't answering the question."

"We'll be there in a few minutes, and then you can see for yourself, Margaret. Cannot you trust me, girl? I'm not going to hurt you. I love you, and I'll do all I can to help you. Come!" And again he made her move on.

At last they came in sight of a tumbled-down cottage on the edge of what had once been a clearing, but which was now overgrown with weeds and brushwood. As they came up, Margaret's strength gave out, and suddenly she sank down on her knees.

"All in, are you?" he said, not unkindly, and, stooping, he picked her up bodily. She tried to resist, but could not, and he took her into the cottage and placed her on a couch.

"I'll get you a nurse," he said, noting her extreme paleness. "You need one."

"A--a woman?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," she murmured, and then closed her eyes, for she was too far gone to say more, or to make a move.

He was as good as his word, and when she roused up once more an old woman was at Margaret's side. She had administered some sort of drug--what, the girl did not know--and it had put her into a sound sleep.

When Margaret looked around again, she was surprised to see that it was morning. She tried to think, but her mind was almost a blank. Outside of the broken window a wild bird was singing gayly. She looked around.

The old woman was not in sight.

She had been put to bed, and sat there, trying to think for several minutes. Then she gave a low call, and the old woman appeared in the doorway.

"Come awake, have ye, miss?" said she.

"Where am I?" asked Margaret feebly.

"You're safe enough, never fear."

Margaret said no more and the woman went about some little work.

Presently the girl arose and dressed herself. She felt much stronger than when at the home of Martha Sampson, in spite of what she had experienced in running away. She sank down in a rocking chair, to think matters over.

How far was she from Sidham? She knew she must have come a long distance, but could not tell if it was five miles or fifty. She looked out of the window, but the scenery was strange to her.

As she sat there she reviewed what had pa.s.sed, her mind becoming clearer as she thought. She remembered the scene at the inquest, and remembered how she had fainted, and how Raymond had supported her and taken her to the nurse's house. Then she remembered how the coroner's jury had accused her of the terrible crime, and she gave a deep shudder.

"Poor, dear father," she murmured. "Who could have been so wicked as to take your life?"

An hour went by, and she prepared to leave the cottage, when a shadow fell across the window, and Matlock Styles appeared. He spoke a few low words to the old woman, and the latter walked away.

As the man entered the room, Margaret arose and faced him. The Englishman was well dressed, and newly shaven, and wore a rosebud in his b.u.t.tonhole. Evidently, he had spent some time over his toilet in honor of the occasion.