entrance with her foot, and slammed it, and shot the bolt and closed the grill, before the guard on the bench could rise to his feet and shout, 'Hi, there, what the devil are you doing?'
The table was between them, and as he came towards her she leant against it, putting all her weight upon it, and the table crashed on the floor with him sprawling upon it, and as he fell she heard a stifled cry from the stair above, and the sound of a blow. Then, seizing the jug of ale beside her, she threw it at the lantern and the light was extinguished. The man on the floor scrambled from beneath the table, shouting for Zachariah, and as he raised his voice, cursing and stumbling in the darkness Dona heard the Frenchman call to her from the stairs, 'Are you there, Dona?' and 'Yes,' she panted, half dazed with laughter and excitement and fear, and he sprang over the rail of the stone stairs to the ground beneath, and found the man in the darkness. She heard them fighting there, close to the steps. He was using the butt end of the pistol; she could hear the blow. The man fell against the table, groaning, and 'Give me your handkerchief, Dona, for a gag,' said the Frenchman, and she tore it from her head.
In a moment he had done what he wished. 'Watch him,' he said swiftly, 'he cannot move,' and Dona heard the Frenchman slip away from her in the darkness, and climb the stairs again to the cell above. 'Have you got him, William?' he said, and there was a funny strangled sob from the room above, and the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor. She could hear the gagged man gasping for breath beside her, and all the while the heavy dragging sound from above, and a sudden desire to laugh rose in her throat, a terrible strained feeling of hysteria, and she knew if she gave way to it she would never stop, it would swell up within her like a scream.
Then the Frenchman called to her from above, 'Open the door, Dona, and see if the road is clear,' and she felt her way to it in the darkness, her hands fumbling with the heavy bolts. She wrenched it open, and looked out, and from the direction of the house she heard the sound of wheels, and down the drive towards the keep came the physician's carriage; she could hear the driver crack his whip and call to his horse.
She turned back inside the keep to warn them, but already the Frenchman was at her side, and she looked up into his face, and in his eyes she saw the reckless laughter that she had seen before when he had pricked the curled wig from Godolphin's head, and 'By heaven,' he said softly, 'it's the physician going home at last.'
He stepped out bare-headed into the drive, holding up his hand. 'What are you doing?' she whispered, 'are you mad, are you crazy?' But he laughed, taking no notice. The driver pulled up his horse at the entrance to the keep, and the long thin face of the physician appeared at the carriage window.
'Who are you, what do you want?' he said in querulous tones, and the Frenchman put his hands on the window, and smiled, and 'Did you give his lordship an heir then, and is he pleased with his baby?' he said.
'Pleased my foot,' swore the physician. 'There are twin daughters up there at the hall, and I'll thank you to take your hands off my carriage window and to let me pass, for all I want is my supper and my bed.'
'Ah, but you'll give us a ride first, won't you?' said the Frenchman, and in a moment he had knocked the driver from his seat, tumbling him down into the drive below, and 'Climb beside me, Dona,' he said; 'we'll ride in style if we ride at all.' She did as he bade her, shaking with laughter. And there was William, in his strange black coat, without his wig and without his hat, slamming the door of the keep behind him, a pistol in his hand pointing in the face of the startled physician. 'Get inside, William,' called the Frenchman, 'and give the doctor a glass of ale, if you have any left, for by the Lord, he's had a harder time to-night than we have had these last few minutes.'
Down the drive sped the carriage, the physician's horse breaking into a gallop, who had never galloped before, and they came abreast the park-gates, firmly shut. 'Open them wide!' called the Frenchman, as a sleepy head appeared at the window of the lodge. 'Your master has twin daughters, and the physician wants his supper, and as for me and my cabin-boy, we've had ale enough this night to last us for thirty years.'
The gates were flung back, the lodge-keeper staring at them in astonishment, his mouth wide open, while from within the carriage came the protesting cries of the physician.
'Where are we bound, William?' called the Frenchman, and William thrust his round face through the window of the carriage. 'There are horses a mile up the road, m'sieu,' he said, 'but we are bound for Porthleven on the coast.'
'We are bound for perdition, for all I care,' he answered, and he put his arm round Dona, and kissed her. 'Don't you know,' he said, 'that this is my last night in the world, and I'm going to be hanged in the morning?'
And with the horse galloping like a mad thing, and the white dust flying from the wheels, the carriage swung out onto the hard highroad.
Chapter XXIV
THE ADVENTURE WAS OVER now, and the madness, and the laughter. Somewhere back on the road lay a carriage tumbled in a ditch, and a horse without bridle or rein grazed beside a hedge. There was a physician who walked along the highroad in search of his supper, and there were guards who lay bound and gagged upon a dungeon floor.
These things belonged to the evening, and had no place in the night that had come. For it was long past midnight now, and darker than it would ever be again. The stars were clustered thick like little pin-pricks of light, and the crescent moon had gone.
Dona stood beside her horse, looking down upon the lake, and she saw that it was separated from the sea by a bank of high shingle, and while the waves broke upon the shore the lake itself was still and undisturbed. There was no wind, and the sky for all its darkness had the strange clarity and radiance of midsummer. Now and again a wave a little larger than its fellows would spend itself upon the shingle beach, and murmur, and sigh, and the lake, catching a tremor from the sea would bear a ripple upon its surface of glass, and shiver an instant, while the ripple washed away into the bent reeds. Now and again there were bird noises from the pool, the startled cry of a moor- hen as it paddled amongst the reeds and hid itself, furtively rustling the tall stems, and there were whispers and stealthy movements from all the unknown nameless things that come out into the silent world at night, and live for a while, and breathe, and have their moment.
Beyond the woods and the hill lay the village of Porth-leven, where the fishing boats were moored against the quay, and William looked up into his Navrons face, and then over his shoulder again towards the hill.
'It would be wise, m'sieu,' he said, 'if I went now, before the day breaks, and found a boat. I will bring it round to the beach here, and we can leave as the sun rises.'
'Do you think you will find a boat?' said the Frenchman.
'Yes, m'sieu,' he answered, 'there will be a small boat at the harbour entrance. I made enquiries, m'sieu, before I left Gweek.'
'William is resourceful,' said Dona. 'He forgets nothing. And because of him there will be no hanging in the morning, but only a small boat putting out to sea.'
The Frenchman looked at his servant, and the servant looked at Dona, as she stood beside the lake, and suddenly he went from them, over the ridge of shingle to the hill beyond, a curious little figure in his long black coat and his large three-cornered hat. He disappeared into the darkness, and they were alone. The horses grazed on the grass beside the lake, and their soft mouths made a quiet crunching sound, and from the woods opposite the tall trees rustled and whispered and were still.
There was a hollow beside the lake, of smooth white sand, and here it was they built their fire, and presently a tongue of flame leapt upwards into the air, and the dry sticks crackled and broke.
He knelt close to the fire, the flame lighting his face and his throat and his hands, and 'Do you remember,' said Dona, 'that once you told me you would cook chicken for me on a spit?'
'Yes,' he answered, 'but to-night I have no chicken, and I have no spit, and my cabin-boy must be content with burnt bread instead.'
He frowned, concentrating upon his task, and because the heat of the fire was great he shook his head, and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, and she knew that this was a picture of him that could never be lost, the fire, the lake, the dark sky studded with stars, and the sea breaking upon the shingle behind them.
'And so,' he said later, as they ate their supper, with the fire smaller than before and the bitter smell of wood smoke lingering in the air, 'you fought a man, my Dona, and he died, on the floor of Navron House.'
She stared across at him, but he was not looking at her; he was crunching the bread between his teeth. 'How did you know?' she asked.
