The inaudible movement of a wood-mouse venturing into the firelit circle awoke Quintana. Again a dropping leaf amid distant birches awoke him. Such things. And so he slept with wet feet to the fire and his rifle across his knees; and dreamed of Eve and of murder, and that the Flaming Jewel was but a mass of glass.
* * * * *
At that moment the girl whose white throat Quintana was dreaming, and whining faintly in his dreams, stood alone outside Clinch's Dump, rifle in hand, listening, fighting the creeping dread that touched her slender body at times -- seemed to touch her very heart with frost.
Clinch's men had gone on to Ghost Lake with their wounded and dead, where there was fitter shelter for both. All had gone on; nobody remained to await Clinch's homecoming except Eve Strayer.
Black Care, that tireless squire of dames, had followed her from the time she had left Clinch, facing the spectral forests of Drowned Valley.
An odd, unusual dread weighted her heart -- something in emotions that she never before had experienced in time of danger. In it there was the deathly unease of premonition. But of what it was born she did not understand, -- perhaps of the strain of dangers passed -- of the shock of discovery concerning Smith's identity with Darragh -- Darragh! -- the hated kinsman of Harrod the abhorred.
Fiercely she wondered how much her lover knew about this miserable masquerade. Was Stormont involved in this deception -- Stormont, the object of her first girl's passion -- Stormont, for whom she would have died?
Wretched, perplexed, fiercely enraged at Darragh, deadly anxious concerning Clinch, she had gone about cooking supper.
The supper, kept warm on the range, still awaited the man who had no more need of meat and drink.
* * * * *
Of the tragedy of Sard Eve knew nothing. There was no traces save the disorder in the pantry and the bottles and chair on the veranda.
Who had visited the place excepting those from whom she and Stormont had fled, did not appear. She had no idea why her step-father's mattress and bed-quilt lay in the pantry.
Her heart heavy with ceaseless anxiety, Eve carried mattress and bed-clothes to Clinch's chamber, re-made his bed, wandered through the house setting it in order; then, in the kitchen, seated herself and waited until the strange dread that possessed her drove her out into the starlight to stand and listen and stare at the dark forest where all her dread seemed concentrated.
* * * * *
It was not yet dawn, but the girl could not endure the strain no longer.
With electric torch and rifle she started for the forest, almost running at first; then, among the first trees, moving with caution and in silence along the trail over which Clinch should long since have journeyed homeward.