Having listened for a few seconds, he stumped stealthily along the gallery
which I had just traversed, and turned the corner in the direction of the
chamber where the crime had just been committed, and the discovery was
impending. I could see him against the broad window which in the daytime
lighted this long passage, and the moment he had passed the corner I
resumed my flight.
I descended a stair corresponding with that backstair, as I am told, up
which Madame had led me only the night before. I tried the outer door. To
my wild surprise it was open. In a moment I was upon the step, in the free
air, and as instantaneously was seized by the arm in the gripe of a man.
It was Tom Brice, who had already betrayed me, and who was now, in surtout
and hat, waiting to drive the carriage with the guilty father and son from
the scene of their abhorred outrage.
CHAPTER LXV
_IN THE OAK PARLOUR_
So it was vain: I was trapped, and all was over.
I stood before him on the step, the white moon shining on my face. I was
trembling so that I wonder I could stand, my helpless hands raised towards
him, and I looked up in his face.
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