With the recovered manuscript in her hands, with the knowledge where it had been found, and with the memory of the clock being wrong, Dora felt convinced that Joad was guilty of the crime. Without doubt he had designed to kill Edermont on that night, and had prepared the so as to prove his should such proof be needed. But what was his for the perpetration of so detestable a crime? Why had he stolen the manuscript, and why had he not destroyed so dangerous a piece of evidence? Dora believed that the answer to these questions was to be found in the manuscript itself. The reading of it would probably solve the whole mystery.
Having her task, she slipped the paper into the pocket of her dress, ran out of the house, and, having locked the door, repaired to the place where she had hidden her bicycle. To give colour to her excuse to Joad, she mounted and rode down the road for some considerable distance. Indeed, she felt inclined there and then to go to Canterbury and assure Allen that he was safe, and that she had won a fortune by discovering the actual criminal; but her desire to do away with any possible suspicions on the part of Joad induced her to abandon such intention. When he found the manuscript gone, he might suspect her if she went directly into Canterbury, whereas, if she behaved as usual, he could have no doubts on the subject.
"Besides," said Dora to herself, as she turned her face towards Chillum, "Joad never goes to his cottage during the day, and therefore he will not find out his loss until to-night. Should he suspect that I have discovered his secret, he may do me an injury, or take to flight. I must his suspicions, and see Allen about the manuscript. We will read it together, and then take such steps as may be necessary to save him and arrest Joad."
On approaching the gates of the Red House, Dora received a shock, for on glancing at Joad's cottage, she saw its owner coming out of the door. Perhaps her questions about the clock had induced him to depart from his usual routine, and by rousing his suspicions had created a desire to assure himself that the manuscript was safe; but whatever might be the reason, Dora had never known Joad to revisit his domicile in the daytime. A qualm seized her lest he should guess what she had done; but the memory of what was at stake nerved her to resistance, and she confronted the approaching old man with a cool and composed. Certainly she needed all her courage at that moment, for Joad was conducting himself like a lunatic.
His face was redder than usual with suppressed rage; he swung round his arms in a threatening manner, and, hardly seeing her in his blind fury, about his loss. Dora did not need to hear his words to be assured that he had discovered the loss of the manuscript. But she strained her ears to listen, in the hope that Joad might say something likely to incriminate himself.
"Lost, lost!" muttered Joad, as he near her--"and after all my care. What am I to do now? What--what--what?"
"Is anything wrong, Mr. Joad?"
The man paused before Dora with a dazed look, and suddenly cooled down in the most surprising manner. Knowing the dangerous position in which he was placed by the loss of the manuscript, he saw the necessity for . His rage gave place to smiles, his furious gestures to .
"No, Miss Dora; there is nothing wrong. I have lost a precious book, that is all. But I know who took it," he broke out with renewed fury.
Dora felt nervous, and for the moment she thought that he suspected her. But the next moment--still talking of the manuscript under the flimsy disguise of a book--his words her. "Oh yes," he repeated; "I know who stole it, but I'll be revenged;" then he shook his fists in the air, as though a curse on someone, and returned to the Red House.
When Dora reached her own room, she took out the manuscript. It was a effusion, evidently carefully prepared, and certainly clearly written. With a thrill of excitement the girl sat down to read the story, and learn from it, if possible, the motive of Joad in becoming a midnight assassin. Before she had read two lines, Meg knocked at her door. Dora hid away the precious paper hastily in her wardrobe, and called on Meg to enter.
"Dinner is up, miss," said the countrywoman, "and Mr. Joad waits. He don't look well, Miss Dora. Sheets ain't nothing to face of he."
"Is he in a bad temper, Meg?"
"Lordy, no, miss! He ghastly pale and quiet like."
Meg's report proved to be true. Joad's rage had died out into a nervousness, and his red face had paled to a yellowish . He said little and ate little, but Dora noticed that he drank more than his ordinary allowance of whisky-and-water. Every now and then he cast a glance round the room, as though waiting anxiously for the unexpected to happen. His conduct reminded Dora of the late Mr. Edermont's behaviour in church during the Litany, and there was no doubt in her mind as to Joad's feelings. He had received a shock, and in consequence thereof he was frightened.
Towards the end of the meal he grew more composed, under the influence of the spirits and water, and it was then that he informed Dora that he was going into Canterbury.
"You are going into Canterbury," she echoed, fairly astonished, "this afternoon?"
"Yes; I have not been in the town for months. But I wish to consult--a lawyer."
"About the loss of your book, I suppose?"
Joad raised his heavy eyes, and sent a piercing glance in her direction.
"Yes," he said, in a quiet tone, "I wish to consult about that loss."
"Will you see Mr. Carver?"
"On the whole," said Joad, with great deliberation, "I think I shall see Mr. Carver. He knows much; he may as well know more."
"What do you mean?" asked Dora, startled by the significance of this speech.
"You will know to-morrow, Miss Carew."
He left the room, and shortly afterwards the house. Anxious to learn if he intended to fly, and so escape the consequences of his crime, Dora followed him down to the gate. This had not been kept l............