He looked back upon the road they had both come; the daylight had not yet
faded from the sky, although the shades of evening were beginning to fall;
far down the road, where it curved towards the town, the lamps were being
lit. By the gate of the last "villa-residence" on the road, a man stood,
looking towards the pair by the bank.
"Was that the man who frightened you? That man by the gate?"
"N-no."
She might have saved her soul the perjury. Sir Francis, leading his horse
by the bridle, walked back in the direction of Laburnum Villa.
"Come back! Oh, please come back!" Deleah cried; but Sir Francis, paying
no heed, went on, till he stopped, bridle in one hand, riding-whip in the
other, in front of the man standing on the pathway before his gate.
"You frightened that lady."
"That lady is no business of yours."
"You are my business, you scoundrel," Sir Francis said, and lifted with a
threatening gesture the hand that held the whip.
The man did not flinch. He was no coward; he was much the smaller of the
two; he was unarmed. "No," Sir Francis said. "Not to-night," and dropped
his whip-hand. "But look out for yourself, sir. Take care. I shall have an
eye on you."
For a minute he stood confronting the man, who looked back hardily at him.
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