Mr. Blood strode in followed by his distraught companion, who, falling upon Arabella's slender bosom, surrendered herself to a passion of tears. But he wasted no time.
"Whom have you here with you? What servants?" he demanded sharply.
The only male was James, an old negro groom.
"The very man," said Blood. "Bid him get out horses. Then away with you to Speightstown, or even farther north, where you will be safe. Here you are in danger - in dreadful danger.""But I thought the fighting was over ..." she was beginning, pale and startled.
"So it is. But the deviltry's only beginning. Miss Traill will tell you as you go. In God's name, madam, take my word for it, and do as I bid you.""He ... he saved me," sobbed Miss Traill.
"Saved you?" Miss Bishop was aghast. "Saved you from what, Mary?""Let that wait," snapped Mr. Blood almost angrily. "You've all the night for chattering when you're out of this, and away beyond their reach. Will you please call James, and do as I say - and at once!""You are very peremptory ..."
"Oh, my God! I am peremptory! Speak, Miss Trail!, tell her whether I've cause to be peremptory.""Yes, yes," the girl cried, shuddering." Do as he says - Oh, for pity's sake, Arabella."Miss Bishop went off, leaving Mr. Blood and Miss Traill alone again.
"I ... I shall never forget what you did, sir," said she, through her diminishing tears. She was a slight wisp of a girl, a child, no more.
"I've done better things in my time. That's why I'm here," said Mr.
Blood, whose mood seemed to be snappy.
She didn't pretend to understand him, and she didn't make the attempt.
"Did you ... did you kill him?" she asked, fearfully.
He stared at her in the flickering candlelight. "I hope so. It is very probable, and it doesn't matter at all," he said. "What matters is that this fellow James should fetch the horses." And he was stamping off to accelerate these preparations for departure, when her voice arrested him.
"Don't leave me! Don't leave me here alone!" she cried in terror.
He paused. He turned and came slowly back. Standing above her he smiled upon her.
"There, there! You've no cause for alarm. It's all over now.
You'll be away soon - away to Speightstown, where you'll be quite safe."The horses came at last - four of them, for in addition to James who was to act as her guide, Miss Bishop had her woman, who was not to be left behind.
Mr. Blood lifted the slight weight of Mary Traill to her horse, then turned to say good-bye to Miss Bishop, who was already mounted. He said it, and seemed to have something to add. But whatever it was, it remained unspoken. The horses started, and receded into the sapphire starlit night, leaving him standing there before Colonel Bishop's door. The last he heard of them was Mary Traill's childlike voice calling back on a quavering note -"I shall never forget what you did, Mr. Blood. I shall never forget."But as it was not the voice he desired to hear, the assurance brought him little satisfaction. He stood there in the dark watching the fireflies amid the rhododendrons, till the hoofbeats had faded. Then he sighed and roused himself. He had much to do. His journey into the town had not been one of idle curiosity to see how the Spaniards conducted themselves in victory. It had been inspired by a very different purpose, and he had gained in the course of it all the information he desired. He had an extremely busy night before him, and must be moving.
He went off briskly in the direction of the stockade, where his fellow-slaves awaited him in deep anxiety and some hope.
