"No, Jim, no!" she said. "It's no use; I can never be yours. It is impossible--quite impossible. My love would be fatal to you! I know it will! He said so."

"He?" I asked.

She faltered. "Oh! I cannot help believing him. He tells me that I am to be his." She shuddered. "Jim, you must leave me, and never see me again.

I cannot have your--your blood on my hands."

She held out her slender white fingers, and I saw that the ring which I had placed there had been removed. Though my brain was awhirl, I tried my utmost to be calm. I think the effort was successful, and that my voice was fairly even when I said--

"Come, darling, a promise is a promise, and my own little girl is not going to break her promise because of the threats of a jealous rival."

She shuddered from head to foot. "You don't know him as I know him," she murmured. "He would stick at nothing, Jim. I don't think he is a man; he must be a devil. He can do things no man ever thought of doing."

"You exaggerate his capacities for evil," I said, as equably as I was able, for her agitation was so great that I feared for her reason. "What has Mannering been saying to you, for it was he whom I saw behind the hedge when I brought you out of the storm, I suppose?"

"You saw him?" she queried. "Then it is true. I have been hoping you would tell me I had been dreaming again."

"I saw nothing very terrible about him," I remarked.

"You don't know him," she said again.

"He will have cause to know me before many hours have pa.s.sed," I declared savagely.

She clung to me in terror. "No, Jim. You must not go near him. You do not know the power he exercises. This afternoon I was sitting thinking of you when I became conscious that he was telling me to come to him.

There was no reason why I should have thought so. He was not in sight, but I was bound to go."

"And you found him waiting for you?" I asked quietly, though my brain was aflame, for I was determined to ascertain all that had pa.s.sed between them.

"He was waiting for me," she repeated--"waiting for me and the storm.

That must have come at his bidding too. It was horrible waiting for him to speak--horrible! I tried to ask him what he wanted, but my tongue was tied. Not until after the first peal of thunder did he utter a word.

Then he told me the time was nearly at hand when he should come for me."

I clenched my fists involuntarily, but I did not interrupt my darling's story. "I begged of him to leave me free. He paid no heed. 'I am going away,' he said. 'For three days you will see nothing of me, though all England will be talking of my deeds. On the third I shall return. Mind you are ready.'"

"Did you not mention me?" I remarked weakly. I hardly knew what to say, for it seemed to me that either Evie must be the victim of some extraordinary hallucination, or else that Mannering was mad.

"He mentioned you," she replied. "'Tell Sutgrove,' he said, 'that he has three days in which to capture the Motor Pirate and make sure of his bride. After that he will be too late. Tell him, too, that death waits on the fool who fails.'"

"It's a sporting challenge," I muttered, for I had no doubt now in my mind that Mannering and the Pirate were identical.

My words did not reach Evie's ear, for she continued,

"Now you know why I have put away your ring. He is too strong for us. I must do as he bids me. I----"

I interrupted her sharply. "Have you everything packed to go away on your visit to Norfolk to-morrow?" I asked.

The tone of my voice roused her. She looked at me wildly.

"Why--why----" she said. Then the expression faded out of her face. For the second time that day she had fainted.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH THE PIRATE APPEARS IN A FROLICSOME HUMOUR

THE fainting fit which terminated my conversation with Evie alarmed me tremendously, and as soon as I could summon a.s.sistance I sent for a doctor. She came round before the medical man arrived, but I did not revert to the topic which had agitated her. Indeed, she appeared listless and disinclined to say a word on any subject. Colonel Maitland was less worried than myself, but even he was anxious until after the doctor had seen her and a.s.sured him that his daughter was merely suffering from over excitement, and that a sedative and a good night's rest would probably restore her completely.

I was not so sure that such would be the case, and when she had retired I thought it well to take the Colonel into his study and give him as full an account as I could of all that had led up to the fainting fit.

He listened to my story with attention, and when I had done, though I could plainly see that he thought his daughter's fears were due to her own morbid fancy, yet he agreed with me that it would be well that she should have a change of scene at the earliest possible moment.

After arriving at this decision I determined to at once seek out Mannering, and demand from him some explanation of his conduct, for I could not conceive that Evie's story was entirely the outcome of her imagination. It was a delicate subject to discuss, yet I did not hesitate. I was in no humour to mince matters. My anger, though I had kept it well under control hitherto, only needed the slightest fanning to bring it to a white heat, and I longed whole-heartedly that Mannering would afford me some excuse for giving physical expression to my feelings.

I walked up to his front door, and knocked in a manner to denote with sufficient distinctiveness that the mood of the knocker was the imperative. I could see by the lights within that the inmates of the house had not retired to rest, but I had to repeat my summons before there was any response. Then I heard footsteps within, and the door opening an inch or two, a voice inquired who was there.

"Is Mr. Mannering in?" I demanded.

"Mr. Sutgrove, is it?" replied the voice, and upon my answering in the affirmative, the door was thrown open, and I saw the two maidservants standing in the hall.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the parlourmaid. "We didn't expect any one at this time of night."

"That's all right," I answered. "Can I see Mr. Mannering?"

"He's gone away for a day or two, sir," said the girl.

"That's very sudden, isn't it?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon."

"Yes, sir. He said nothing about it to us until after dinner. Then he packed his handbag and went away on his motor."

"It's a confounded nuisance," I remarked. "I wanted to see him on important business. Did he say where he was going?"

"He said Cromer, sir, but he did not leave any address." Then, after a momentary hesitation, she added, "Is--is anything wrong?"

I looked at her keenly. She dropped her eyes, and I could see there was something on her mind.

"What makes you ask?" I enquired.

"I--I don't know," she replied, with obvious embarra.s.sment.

"There must be something or you would not have asked," I said encouragingly. "Come--out with it."

She still hesitated, but the housemaid was bolder. "I'll tell the gentleman if you don't, Sarah," she declared. "It's like this, sir," she rattled out volubly: "the master, Mr. Mannering that is, has been so queer in his ways lately that Sarah and me 'as been quite scared. Not that he 'asn't been quite the gentleman. He always was that, wasn't he, Sarah? But he's been that restless and bound up in himself lately--walking up and down in his room and talking to himself. He always was one to shut himself up in that nasty old coach-house with his experiments and things, but he was quiet, and we never took no account of it. But lately he's been different."

"How?" I asked.

"Well, instead of going to bed like a Christian he's up all hours of the night. It ain't only that. He slips out as if he didn't want us to see him, and when we've known he hasn't been at home we've found he's taken the trouble to tumble the bed to make it appear as how he slept in it."

"Pooh!" I remarked. "If that's all, my servants would probably say the same about me. You need not be alarmed about such trifles."