Cautiously timing my step with hers, that the murmur of the leaves
might not betray me, I followed. As she passed out the gate, I stood
behind a tree, lest she should look back and discern me; then I passed
through, following along in the shadow of the fence.
She hurried on in the direction of the spot at which the murder had
been committed; but when nearly there, perceiving that some persons,
though long past midnight, still hovered about the fatal place, she
turned, and passed me. As soon as I dared, without alarming her, I also
turned, pursuing her through the long, quiet street, until it brought
her to a more crowded and poorer part of the village, where she went
down a side street, and disappeared in a tenement-house, the
entrance-hall to which was open. I ought to have gone at once for
officers, and searched the place; but I unwisely concluded to wait for
daylight.
As I came up the walk on my return, I met James Argyll in the avenue,
near the front portico.
"Oh, is it you?" he exclaimed, after I had spoken to him. "I thought it
was--was--"
"You are not superstitious, James?" for his hollow voice betrayed that
he was frightened.
"You did give me a confounded uneasy sensation as you came up," he
answered with a laugh.--How can people laugh under such
circumstances?--"Where have you been at this hour, Richard?"
"Walking in the cool air. The house smothered me."
"So it did me. I could not rest. I have just come out to get a breath
of air."
"It is almost morning," I said, and passed on into my chamber.
I knew who watched, without food, without rest, in the chamber of
death, by whose door my footsteps led; but ache as my heart might, I
had no words of comfort for sorrow like hers--so I passed on.
CHAPTER IV.
MORELAND VILLA.
Several minor circumstances prevented my going in search of the woman
who had excited my suspicions on the previous day, until about nine
o'clock of the morning, when I engaged an officer, and we two went
quietly, without communicating our plans to any one else, to the
tenement-house before spoken of.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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