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Quietly he went to the corridor, turned, and made his way cautiously to the door of Adare's room. It was dark inside, the corridor was black. Hidden in the gloom he listened. He heard Miriam sink in one of the big chairs, and from her movement, and the sound of her sobbing, he knew that she had buried her head in her arms on the table.
A few yards away was a small tepee in which Lang had kept her. He partly carried, partly dragged her to this, and then he returned to the dogs. Vainly he called upon them to leave their victims. He was seeking for a club when through the balsam thicket burst John Adare and Father George at the head of a dozen men. In response to Adare's roaring voice the pack slunk off.
Adare's voice burst out happily: "Good boy, Philip! Don't be bashful when we're around. That's the first time I've seen you kiss your wife!" There was none of the white betrayal in Josephine's cheeks now. They were the colour of the rose in her hair. She had time to look up into Philip's face, and whisper with a laughing break in her voice: "Thank you, Philip. You have saved me again."
"Paul, my son, you are welcome to Adare House!" "Philip, Mon Pere," corrected Josephine. "I like that better than Paul." "And you?" said Philip, smiling straight into Adare's eyes. "I am almost afraid to keep my promise to Josephine. It was that I should call you mon pere, too." "There was one other promise, Philip," replied Adare quickly.
He went to bed early, and strangely enough slept more soundly than he had been able to sleep for some time. When he awoke the following morning his first thought was that this was the day of the third night. He had scarcely dressed when Adare's voice greeted him from outside the door.
When Philip jumped out of bed in response to Adare's heavy knock at the door, he judged that it was not later than seven o'clock, and the room was still dark. Adare's voice came booming through the thick panels in reply to Philip's assurance that he was getting up. "This is the third time," he cried. "I've cracked the door trying to rouse you.
He rose and went to the window, and with a queer thickening in his throat Philip stared at his broad back. He thought he saw a moment's quiver of his shoulders. Then Adare's voice changed. "Winter brings close to our doors the one unpleasant feature of this country," he said, turning to light a second cigar.
"She beat us after all, Philip. She is going after the dogs!" Philip's heart was beating wildly. A better opportunity for seeing Josephine alone could not have come to him. He feared that his voice might betray him as he laid a hand on Adare's arm. "If you will excuse me I will join her," he said. "I know it doesn't seem just right to tear off in this way, but you see "
Swiftly Philip turned and looked to the left. Kaskisoon and his braves were advancing upon the Nest with the elusiveness of foxes. At first he could not see them. Then, as Adare's voice boomed over the open, they rose with the suddenness of a flight of partridges, and ran swift-footed straight in the face of the windows. Thus far the game of the attackers had worked without flaw.
So when Adare's eyes rested upon him in a moment's silence, he said: "Last night Jean and I were standing beside her grave. It seemed then as though he would have been happier if he had lain near her under the cross." "You are wrong," said Adare quickly. "Death is beautiful when there is a perfect love.
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