Then, as though something had led or betrayed her to the place, she paused where the graves lay half shadowed by a magnolia, she read the nearest inscription with a little catch of her breath. Then the further one. They were the graves of Juliet Mascarene and Rupert Pinckney, the dead lovers who had passed from the world almost together, whose bodies lay side by side in the cold bed of earth. In a moment the spell of the little arbour was around her again, in a moment the pregnant first impression of Vernons had re-seized her, fresh as though the commonplace touch of everyday life had never spoiled it. It was as though the spirit of Juliet and the spirit of the old house were saying to her "Have you forgotten us?" Tears welled to her eyes. Silas standing beside her was saying something, she did not know what. She scarcely heard him. Misinterpreting her silence, unconscious as an animal of her state of mind and the direction of her thoughts, the man at her side moved towards her slightly, seemed to hesitate, and then, suddenly clasping her by the waist kissed her upon the side of the neck. Phyl straightened like a bow when the string is released. Then she struck him, struck him open handed in the face, so that the sound of the blow might have been heard beyond the wall. His face blanched so that the mark on it showed up, he took a step back. For a moment Phyl thought he was going to spring upon her. Then he mastered himself, but if murder ever showed itself upon the countenance of man it showed itself in that half second on the countenance of Silas Grangerson. "You'll be sorry for that," said he. "Don't speak to me," said Phyl. "You are horrible--bad--wicked--I will tell Richard Pinckney." "Do," said Silas. "Tell him also I'll be even with him yet. You're in love with him, that's what's the matter with you--well, wait." He turned on his heel and walked off. He did not look back once. As he vanished from sight Phyl clasped her hands together. It was as though she had suddenly been shown the real Silas--or rather the something light and evil and dangerous, the something inscrutable and allied to insanity that inhabited his mind. She was not thinking of herself, she was thinking of Richard Pinckney. She felt that she had been the unconscious means of releasing against him an evil force. A force that might injure or destroy him. CHAPTER VII She came out of the cemetery. There was no sign of Silas in the street nor on the front of the church. Phyl had a full measure of the Celtic power to meet trouble halfway, to imagine disaster. As she hurried home she saw all manner of trouble, things happening to Richard Pinckney, and all brought about through herself. Amidst all these fancies she saw one fact: He must be warned.