AT BITTERMEADS

When, riding fast, Rupert Dunsmore came in sight of Bittermeads he
experienced a feeling of extreme relief. Though what he had feared he
did not quite know, for he did not see that any alarm could have reached
here yet or any hint come to Deede Dawson of the failure of all his
plotting.

Even if Walter had had the idea of returning to give his accomplice
warning, he could not have come by the road on his bicycle as quickly
as Rupert had ridden across country. And that Walter would spend either
time or thought on Deede Dawson did not appear in any way probable.

To Rupert, therefore, it seemed certain that Deede Dawson could know
nothing as yet. But all the same it was an immense relief to see the
house again and to know that in a few moments he would be there.

He tied up the mare to a convenient tree, and with eyes that were quick
and alert and every nerve and muscle ready for all emergencies, he drew
near the house.

All was still and quiet, no smoke came from the chimneys, there was no
sign of life or movement anywhere. For a moment he hesitated and then
made his way round to the back, hoping to find Mrs. Barker there and
perhaps obtain from her information as to the whereabouts of Deede
Dawson and of Ella and her mother.

For it seemed to him it would be his best plan to get the two women
quietly out of the way if he could possibly do so before making any
attempt to deal with Deede Dawson or letting him know of his return.

For the mere fact that he was back again so soon would show at once that
something had gone seriously wrong, and once Deede Dawson knew that, he
would be, Rupert well realized, in a very desperate and reckless mood
and ripe for committing any mischief that he could.

Cautiously Rupert opened the back door and found himself in the
stone-paved passage that ran between the kitchen and the scullery and
pantry. Everything seemed very quiet and still, and there was no sign of
Mrs. Barker nor any appearance that she had been that morning busy about
her usual tasks. The kitchen fire was not lighted, a pile of unwashed
crockery stood on the table, there had apparently been no attempt to
prepare any meals.

Frowning uneasily, for all this did not seem to him of good omen, Rupert
Went quickly on to the living rooms.

They were unoccupied and did not seem to have been much used that day;
and in the small breakfast-room Deede Dawson had been accustomed
to consider his special apa