There was a break in the eastern sky; already here
and there a blackbird sang in the garden boughs, and
the freshness, the quietude, swept her thoughts back
to the Chalet de Lognan. With a great yearning
she recalled that evening and the story of the great
friendship so quietly related to her in the darkness,
beneath the stars. The world and the people of
her dreams existed; only there was no door of entrance
into that world for her. Below her the stream
sang, even as the glacier stream had sung, though
without its deep note of thunder. As she listened
to it, certain words spoken upon that evening came
back to her mind and gradually began to take on a
particular application.
“What you know, that you must do, if by doing
it you can save a life or save a soul.”
That was the law. “If you can save a life
or save a soul.” And she did know.
Sylvia raised herself from the window and stood in
thought.
Garratt Skinner had made a great mistake that day.
He had been misled by the gentleness of her ways,
the sweet aspect of her face, and by a look of aloofness
in her eyes, as though she lived in dreams. He
had seen surely that she was innocent, and since he
believed that knowledge must needs corrupt, he thought
her ignorant as well. But she was not ignorant.
She had detected his trickeries. She knew of the
conspiracy, she knew of the place she filled in it
herself; and furthermore she knew that as a decoy
she had been doing her work. Only yesterday, Walter
Hine had been forced to choose between Barstow and
herself and he had let Barstow go. It was a small
matter, no doubt. Still there was promise in it.
What if she stayed, strengthened her hold on Walter
Hine and grappled with the three who were ranged against
him?
Walter Hine was, of course, and could be, nothing
to her. He was the mere puppet, the opportunity
of obedience to the law. It was of the law that
she was thinking—and of the voice of the
man who had uttered it. She knew—by
using her knowledge, she could save a soul. She
did not think at this time that she might be saving
a life too.
Quietly she undressed and slipped into her bed.
She was comforted. A smile had come upon her
lips. She saw the face of her friend in the darkness,
very near to her. She needed sleep to equip herself
for the fight, and while thinking so she slept.
The moonlight faded altogether, and left the room
dark. Beneath the window the stream went singing
through the lawn. After all, its message had been
revealed to her in its due season.
CHAYNE RETURNS
“Hullo,” cried Captain Barstow, as he
wandered round the library after luncheon. “Here’s
a scatter-gun.”
He took the gun from a corner where it stood against
the wall, opened the breech, shut it again, and turning
to the open window lifted the stock to his shoulder.
