the further side of the road. The farmer took no note
of him, but the watcher saw the farmer, and with swift, cat-like tread
he followed him.

IX

IN FEAR OF THE ENEMY

All the way home the memory of those eyes haunted Ernestine. All the way
home her ears were straining to catch the hoot of a motor-horn and the
rush of wheels behind them.

But no motor overtook them. Nothing happened to disturb the smiling
peace of that summer afternoon.

Back in her little room under the thatch she flung herself face
downwards on the bed, and lay tense. What should she do? What should she
do? He had seen her. He was on her track. Sooner or later he would run
her to earth. And she--what could she do?

For a long while she lay there, too horror-stricken to move, while over
and over again there passed through her aching brain the memory of those
eyes. Did he guess that she had come there to hide from him? Had he been
hunting her for long?

She moved at length, sat up stiffly, and felt something crackle inside
her dress. With a little start she realised what it was, and drew forth
Rivington's letter.

A great sigh broke from her as she opened and read it once again.

A little later she ran swiftly downstairs with a folded paper in her
hand. Out into the blinding sunshine, bareheaded, she ran, never pausing
till she turned into the lily-decked garden of the post-office.

She was trembling all over as she handed in her message, but as it
ticked away a sensation of immense relief stole over her. She went out
again feeling almost calm.

But that night her terrors came back upon her in ghastly array. She
could not sleep, and lay listening to every sound. Finally she fell into
an uneasy doze, from which she started to hear the dog in the yard
barking furiously. She lay shivering for a while, then crept to her
window and looked out. The dense shadow of a pine wood across the road
blotted out the starlight, and all was very dark. It was impossible to
discern anything. She stood listening intently in the darkness.

The dog subsided into a growling monotone, and through the stillness she
fancied she caught a faint sound, as if some animal were prowling softly
under the trees. She listened with a thumping heart. Nearer it seemed to
come, and nearer, and then she heard it no more. A sudden gust stirred
the pine tops, and a sudden, overmastering panic filled her soul.

With the violence of frenzy she slammed and bolted her windo