Branch after branch slipped from his grasp or broke under his
weight; then he caught a stalwart bough under his armpit, and hung
suspended for a second; and then he let himself drop and fell
heavily against the table. A cry of alarm from the house warned
him that his entrance had not been effected unobserved. He
recovered himself with a stagger, and in three bounds crossed the
intervening space and stood before the door in the verandah.
In a small apartment, carpeted with matting and surrounded by
glazed cabinets full of rare and costly curios, Mr. Vandeleur was
stooping over the body of Mr. Rolles. He raised himself as Francis
entered, and there was an instantaneous passage of hands. It was
the business of a second; as fast as an eye can wink the thing was
done; the young man had not the time to be sure, but it seemed to
him as if the Dictator had taken something from the curate's
breast, looked at it for the least fraction of time as it lay in
his hand, and then suddenly and swiftly passed it to his daughter.
All this was over while Francis had still one foot upon the
threshold, and the other raised in air. The next instant he was on
his knees to Mr. Vandeleur.
"Father!" he cried. "Let me too help you. I will do what you wish
and ask no questions; I will obey you with my life; treat me as a
son, and you will find I have a son's devotion."
A deplorable explosion of oaths was the Dictator's first reply.
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