“Come home, come back to the house!” he said sharply. “We’ve only got to-night before us to settle what we must do;” but in his mind there was, of course, only one thing to be done. He must reckon with Erceldonne in the morning. He dared not even talk as he hurried his companion up the path. His foot was stiff still, though his strength had come back to him; but no man’s strength and his bare hands were going to avail anything against a madman and two jaguars; and the woman at his side would welcome death as a friend. If he had been alone he would have returned to the house with his hands in his pockets--he could only die once, and life was not so sweet to a broken man that he should worry about it. But with this silent, listless woman on his hands, Heriot’s heart was in his mouth at every strange shadow in the ever-deepening dark. When they were free of the woods he felt easier. The good stars shone down on them as they reached the open garden and drew near the house, and a quick compassion ran through him for Andria Erle, whose only refuge was under the roof of her enemy. “Look! What’s that?” he said quietly. “Let me go first.” “There’s no need,” returned Andria lifelessly. “If you mean that black thing in the shadow by the steps, it’s Salome. She’s waiting for me; she saw me go out.” The woman came to them swiftly, her finger on her lips. “Don’t speak,” she said softly; “Chloe’s in de dining-room. Oh, my Lawd! I didn’t know where you was both got to.” “Send her away,” whispered Andria, with sudden passion. “Tell her you’ll wait on me, anything!” She would go mad if she had to sit through dinner alone, if Heriot must hide when there was so little time to make a plan. “I’ll tell her and ’Melia Jane dey must iron dem two white dresses for Miss Ber’l to-night. Dey won’t be no more’n time, and when dey gits out in de wash-house,” she said shrewdly, “dey’ll be skeered to come in again. Dey’ll sneak up-stairs to deir beds.” “Anything, only be quick!” Heriot should stay where he was till he heard all she had to say; all the dreadful tale Egerton had let out about Beryl, without knowing that she was putting two and two together. “Lock them out, Salome,” she added feverishly. “Yes’m! You come into de house, de two of you. Just you sit in de drawing-room an’ don’t speak till I tell you dey’s gone.” Heriot had almost to push Andria in. It seemed as if she courted death out under the stars. When he had bolted the heavy door noiselessly, he followed her into the dark drawing-room. What was Salome doing that she was so long? He heard her voice in the back of the house; not raised in authority, but wild with astonishment and fright. Before he could draw breath, the fat black woman had thrown open the dining-room door, her shapeless figure grotesque against the lighted dinner-table as she stared into the gloom where the two sat. “Oh, missus,” she said, “missus! And dem niggers never told me.”