MAY passed a sleepless night, wearying her brain in a futile endeavor to see her path clearly. She felt that, for the sake of what had been, she could not bring herself to accuse Masters before the others, or even privately to his face. Yet, her manifest duty lay in some step that should prevent another effort by him. She was convinced that he would dare no more, when aware of the fact that there was a witness to bear testimony as to his guilt, and in this she probably reasoned justly. In the end, she decided to write him a note, informing him as to her knowledge, and warning him against further pursuit of his evil plans, or of herself. She would have the missive in readiness to hand to him on the occasion of his first appearance at the cottage. When she had thus determined, it was time to dress, for the day was two hours old. As soon as she was clad with her accustomed nicety, she wrote the letter to the engineer, and then descended to breakfast, pale and wan,[167] with heavy shadows under her eyes, but vastly relieved that, at last, she had reached a decision as to her conduct of the affair.
The letter thus prepared was not destined for delivery that day. Masters did not appear at the cottage. As a matter of fact, even his egotism was convinced of the sincerity and unchangeableness of Margaret West’s rejection of his suit. He found to his despair and wrath that the girl was totally irresponsive to his most ardent pleadings. The disappointment to him was the keener because it was so wholly unexpected. The girl had shown pleasure in his society from the first, and he had anticipated an easy victory, despite his jealousy of Saxe. Nevertheless, she repulsed him with a finality not to be denied. His failure was the more exasperating to him by reason of the fact that the cause baffled his every effort of understanding.
The truth of the matter lay in a paradox concerning magnetism. Masters possessed in an unusual degree the magnetism of sex. At the outset, Margaret had felt this, without in the least apprehending the nature of the attraction exerted on her. She attributed it[168] rather to his handsome face and buoyant manner, allied with his undoubted cleverness. Later on, as the man’s passion for her developed, this same force in him, which had charmed in its subtler manifestations, became offensive to her sensitiveness. Still without any suspicion of the cause, she felt herself repelled, where before she had been attracted. By so much the more as his desire waxed and was revealed, by so much the more he grew repulsive. In the end, he became altogether detestable to her, and in dismissing him she made her feeling plain.
So, Masters did not come that day to the cottage, and the note that lay warm on May’s bosom was undelivered. Yet his dual lack of success in love and in murder did not suffice to quench the spirit of the man. Greed and passion inflamed his hatred of the rival who threatened to destroy his hopes. As he went from Margaret at her bidding, his brain was already busy with new schemes by which to possess himself of the miser’s gold and of the woman he loved. The first step toward such consummation must be the death of Saxe Temple. He was furious against the fate that[169] had saved his enemy at the first trial; he was determined that at the second there should be no escape.
The night following that on which the shooting had occurred, Roy Morton passed through an experience that afforded him grounds for apprehension, although he kept the affair secret for a time, in the confident expectation of making further discoveries without assistance from his friends.
It was about two o’clock in the morning when he suddenly awakened out of a sound sleep. He attributed this awakening to a subtle warning from his never-sleeping sixth sense. Nevertheless, it is a fact that, in the course of an adventurous career, he had acquired the habit of sleeping very lightly, so that he might be aroused instantly by the slightest sound of an unwonted sort, and it is probable that, on this occasion, some noise disturbed him. Be that as it may, he abruptly found himself broad awake and listening intently.
There was no sound anywhere within the cottage. Through the open window came the rhythmic chant of myriad insects, the rustling of leaves caressed by the night wind—nothing[170] more. Roy was inclined to believe that he had been aroused for no adequate cause. Yet, he was disinclined to dismiss the warning of his precious sixth sense without further investigation. He got out of bed, threw a bath-robe over his pajamas, and set forth on a tour of investigation. There was still some moonlight shining through the windows of the hall, by which he was able to assure himself that nothing extraordinary was visible, nor did he hear any unusual sound. He descended into the lower hall, and there, too, his examination failed to show aught amiss. He moved with great caution, in order to avoid giving warning of his presence to a possible intruder, and peered into the office and the dining-room. Everywhere, he found all in order. He betook himself finally to the door of the music-room, which he found almost closed, but not quite. He pushed it open with much care, and bending forward, looked into the room. On the instant, his eyes were attracted by a light that shone clearly against the east wall of the room. By this illumination, he perceived a man, who knelt, holding a pocket-torch in his left hand, while his right was thrust into an opening in[171] the wall.
Roy Morton stared in unqualified amazement. For the moment, his interest was centered on the aperture in the wall of the room, rather than on the man who knelt on the floor b............