The Obstacle Race by Ethel May Dell (robert munsch read aloud .txt) 📕

was standing immediately behind her and she was aware of him, knew without turning that it was Saltash; but the one being in all the crowded place for whose voice or touch in that moment she would have given all that she had neither spoke nor moved. And her brave heart died within her. If he had only given some sign!
A hoarse murmur broke out at the back of the great barn, spreading like a wave on the sea. But ere it reached the men in front who stood sullenly dumb, staring upwards, Saltash's hand closed upon Juliet's arm, drawing her back.
"After that, _ma chere_," he said lightly into her ear, "you would be wise to follow the line of least resistance."
She responded to his touch almost mechanically. The murmur was swelling to a roar, but she scarcely heard it. She yielded to the hand that guided, hardly knowing what she did.
As Saltash led her to the back of the platform she had a glimpse of Dick's face white as death, with lips hard-set and stern as she had never seen them, and a glitter in his eyes that made her think of onyx. He passed her by without a glance, going forward to quell the rising storm as if she had not been there.
The man in the leather coat was with him. He had taken off his mask, and he paused before Juliet--a cynical smile playing about his face. It was a face of iron mastery, of pitiless self-assertion. The eyes were as points of steel.
He bent towards her and spoke. "I thought I should find you sooner or later, Lady Jo. I trust you have enjoyed your game--even if you have lost your winnings!"
She spoke no word in answer, but she made a slight, barely perceptible movement towards the man whose hand upheld her.
And Yardley laughed--an edged laugh that was inexpressibly cruel.
"Oh, go to the devil!" said Saltash with sudden fire. "It's where you belong!"
Yardley's cold eyes gleamed with icy humour. "_Et tu, Brute_!" he said with sneering lips. "I wish you--joy!"
He passed on. Saltash's arm went round Juliet like a coiled spring. He impelled her unresisting to the door. Her hand rested on his shoulder as she stepped down from the platform. She went with him as one in a dream.
The air smote chill as they left the heated atmosphere, and a great shiver went through her.
She stood still for a moment, listening. The tumult had died down. A man's voice--Dick's voice--clear and very steady, was speaking.
"Come away!" said Saltash in her ear.
But yet she lingered in the darkness. "He will be safe?" she said.
"Of course he will be safe! They treat him like a god. Come away!"
His arm was urging her. She yielded, shivering.
He hurried her up the slope to the place where he had left his car. It stood at the side of the rough road that led to High Shale Point.
They reached it. Juliet was gasping for breath. The sea-mist was like rain in their faces.
"Get in!" he said.
She obeyed, sinking down with a vague thankfulness, conscious of great weakness.
But as he cranked the engine and she felt the throb of movement, she sat up quickly.
"Charles, what am I doing? Where are you taking me?"
He came round to her and his hands clasped hers for a moment in a grip that was warm and close. He did not speak at once.
Then, lightly, "I don't know what you'll do afterwards, _ma Juliette_," he said. "But you are coming with me now!"
She caught her breath as if she would utter some protest, but something checked her--perhaps it was the memory of Dick's face as she had last seen it, stony, grimly averted, uncompromisingly stern. She gripped his hands in answer, but she did not speak a word.
And so they sped away together into the dark.


CHAPTER VIII
OUT OF THE NIGHT

It was very late that night, and the sea-mist had turned to a drifting rain when the squire sitting reading in his library at the Court was startled by a sudden tapping upon the window behind him.
So unexpected was the sound in the absolute stillness that he started with some violence and nearly knocked over the reading-lamp at his elbow. Then sharply and frowning he arose. He reached the window and fumbled at the blind; but failing to find the cord dragged it impatiently aside and peered through the glass.
"Who is it? What do you want?"
A face he knew, but so drawn and deathly that for the moment it seemed almost unfamiliar, peered back at him. In a second he had the window unfastened and flung wide.
"Dick! In heaven's name, boy,--what's the matter?"
Dick was over the sill in a single bound. He stood up and faced the squire, bare-headed, drenched with rain, his eyes burning with a terrible fire.
"I have come for my wife," he said.
"Your wife! Juliet!" The squire stared at him as if he thought him demented. "Why, she left ages ago, man,--soon after tea!"
"Yes, yes, I know," Dick said. He spoke rapidly, but with decision. "But she came back here an hour or two ago. You are giving her shelter. Saltash brought her--or no--she probably came alone."
"You are mad!" said Fielding, and turned to shut the window. "She hasn't been near since she left this evening."
"Wait!" Dick's hand shot out and caught his arm, restraining him. "Do you swear to me that you don't know where she is?"
The squire stood still, looking full and hard into the face so near his own; and so looking, he realized, what he had not grasped before, that it was the face of a man in torture. The savage grip on his arm told the same story. The fiery eyes that stared at him out of the death-white countenance had the awful look of a man who sees his last hope shattered.
Impulsively he laid his free hand upon him. "Dick--Dick, old chap,--what's all this? Of course I don't know where she is! Do you think I'd lie to you?"
"Then I've lost her!" Dick said, and with the words some inner vital spring seemed to snap within him. He flung up; his arms, freeing himself with a wild gesture. "My God, she has gone--gone with that scoundrel!"
"Saltash?" said the squire sharply.
"Yes. Saltash!" He ground the name between his teeth. "Does that surprise you so very much? Don't you know the sort of infernal blackguard he is?"
The squire turned again to shut the window. "Damn it, Dick! I don't believe a word of it," he said with vigour. "Get your wind and have a drink, and let's hear the whole story! Have you and Juliet been quarrelling?"
Dick ignored his words as if he had not spoken. "You needn't shut the window," he said. "I'm going again. I'm going now."
It was the squire's turn to assert himself, and he seized it. He shut the window with a bang. "You are not, Dick! Don't be a fool! Sit down! Do you hear? Sit down! You're not going yet--not till you've told me the whole trouble. So you can make up your mind to that!"
Dick looked at him for a moment as if he were on the verge of fierce resistance, but Fielding's answering look held such unmistakable resolution that after the briefest pause he turned aside.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, and tramped heavily across to the hearth. "Put up with me if you can! God knows I'm up against it hard enough to-night."
He rested his arms on the mantelpiece and laid his head down upon them, and so stood motionless, in utter silence.
The squire came to him in a few seconds with a glass in his hand. "Here you are, Dick! This is what you're wanting. Swallow it before you talk any more!"
Dick reached out in silence and took the glass. Then he stood up and drank, keeping his face averted.
Fielding waited till at last, without turning, he spoke. "I've always known it might come to this, but I never realized why. I suppose anyone but a blind fool would have seen through it long ago."
"What are you talking about?" said the squire. "I'm utterly in the dark, remember."
Dick's hands were clenched. "I'm talking of Juliet and--Saltash. I've always known there was some sort of understanding between them. He flaunted it in my face whenever we met. But I trusted her--I trusted her." The words were like a muffled cry rising from the depths of the man's wrung soul.
"Sit down!" said the squire gruffly, and taking him by the shoulders pushed him into the chair from which he himself had so lately risen.
Dick yielded, with the submission of utter despair, his black head bowed against the table.
Fielding stooped over him, still holding him. "Now, boy, now! Don't let yourself go! Tell me--try and tell me!"
Dick drew a hard breath. "You'll think I'm mad, sir. I thought I was myself at first. But it's true--it must be true. I heard it from her own lips. Juliet--my wife--my wife--is--was--Lady Joanna Farringmore!"
"Great heavens!" said the squire. "Dick, are you sure?"
"Yes, quite sure. She was caught--caught by Yardley at the meeting to-night. She couldn't escape--so she told the truth--told the whole crowd--and then bolted--bolted with Saltash."
"Great heavens!" said the squire again. "But--what was Saltash doing there?"
"Oh, he came to protect her. He knew--or guessed--there was something in the wind. He came to support her. I know now. He's the subtlest devil that ever was made."
"But why on earth--why on earth did she ever come here?" questioned Fielding.
"She was hiding from Yardley of course. He's a cold vindictive brute, and I suppose--I suppose she was afraid of him, and came to me--came to me--for refuge." Dick was speaking through his hands. "That's how he regards it himself. She was always playing fast and loose till she got engaged to him. It was just the fashion in that set. But he--I imagine no one ever played with him before. He swears--swears he'll make her suffer for it yet."
"Pooh!" said Fielding. "How does he propose to do that? She's your wife anyhow."
"My wife--yes." Slowly Dick raised his head, stared for a space in front of him, then grimly rose. "My wife--as you say, sir. And I am going to find her--now."
"I'm coming with you," said Fielding.
"No, sir, no!" Dick looked at him with a tight-lipped smile that was somehow terrible. "Don't do that! You won't want to be--a witness against me."
"Pooh!" said the squire again. "I may be of use to you before it comes to that. But before we start let me tell you one thing, Dick! She married you because she loved you--for no other reason."
A sharp spasm contracted Dick's hard features; he set his lips and said nothing.
"That's the truth," the squire proceeded, watching him. "And you know it. She might have bolted with Saltash before if she had wanted to. She had ample opportunity."
Dick's hands clenched at his sides, but still he said nothing.
"She loved you," the squire said again. "Lady Jo--or no Lady Jo--she loved you. It wasn't make-believe. She was fairly caught--against her will possibly--but still caught. She's run away from you now--run away with another man--because she couldn't stay and face you. Is that convincing proof, do you think, that she has ceased to love you? It wouldn't convince me."
Dick's clenched hands were beating impotently against his sides. "I--can't say, sir," he said, between his set teeth.
The squire moved impulsively, laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dick, I've seen a good deal--suffered a good deal--in my time; enough to know the real thing