without a sign of surprise he flashed it from the empty stall into Irralie's white face.
"Now, Miss Villiers!" said he, coldly, "what have you done with that horse?"
"I?"
She swayed where she stood, taken utterly, hopelessly, by surprise.
"Yes, you!" he answered with subdued ferocity. "You had come from this when I met you just now. I saw the straw on your cloak. You have let out that horse—confess the truth!"
His manner acted on Irralie like a tonic. "I deny your right to question me," she answered, with spirit; "nothing else! Now let me pass."
But he had stooped and picked up something as the match burnt his fingers. And for hours after, as it seemed to Irralie, he stood and blocked her way in the dark silence of the tomb.
"At least you do things thoroughly," he said at last, with his insolent sneer. "You have let out not only the horse, but—Heaven
