Bindloss Harold
The Mistress of Bonaventure

"I am afraid my nerves are not good enough. I should sooner you talked to me, Sally," I said.

She laughed coquettishly, and there was no doubt that Steel's sister was handsome, as women on that part of the prairie go. Sun and wind had ripened the color in her face, her teeth were white as ivory, her lips full and red, and perhaps most men would have found pleasure watching the sparkle of mischief that danced in her eyes as she answered demurely: "That would be just too nice. What shall we talk about?"

"You might tell me who was the first to come ask about me," I said.

The girl stretched out one plump arm with a comprehensive gesture. "They all came, bringing things along, most of them. Even the little Icelander; he loaded up his wagon with a keg of herrings – said they were best raw – and lumps of grindstone bread. Oh, yes; they all came, and I was glad to see them, 'cept when some of their wives came with them."

"They are kind people in this country; but how could the women worry you? In any case, I think you would be equal to them," I commented; and, somewhat to my surprise, the girl first blushed, and then looked positively wicked.

"They – well, they would ask questions, and said things, when they found Tom was down to Brandon," she answered enigmatically. "Still, I guess I was equal to most of them. 'Rancher Ormesby's not sending the hat round yet, and that truck is not fit for any sick man to eat when it's just about half-cooked,' I said. 'You can either take it back or leave it for Thorn to worry with. Fresh rocks wouldn't hurt his digestion. Just now I'm way too busy to answer conundrums.'"

Sally seemed glad to abandon that topic, and did not look quite pleased when I hazarded another question, with suppressed interest, but as carelessly as I could: "Did anybody else drive over?"

The girl laughed a trifle maliciously, and yet with a certain enjoyment. "Oh, yes. One day, when I was too busy for anything, the people from Bonaventure drove over, and wanted to take you back. I don't know why, but the way Haldane's elder daughter looked about the place just got my back up. 'You can't have him. This is where he belongs,' I said.

"'But he is ill, and this place is hardly fit for him. There are no comforts, and we could take better care of him,' said the younger one, and I turned round to her.

"'That's just where you're wrong. Rancher Ormesby has lived here for eight years, and when he's sick he has plenty friends of his own kind to take care of him. I'm one of them, and we don't dump our sick people on to strangers,' I said.

"The elder one she straightens herself a little, as though she didn't like my talk. 'He could not be as comfortable as he would be at Bonaventure, which is the most important thing. We will ask the doctor; and have you any right to place obstacles in the way of Mr. Ormesby's recovery?' says she, and that was enough for me.

"'I've all the right I want,' I answered. 'I'm running Gaspard's Trail, and if you can find a man about the place who won't jump when I want him, you needn't believe me. That makes me a busy woman – see? – so I'll not keep you. Go back to Bonaventure, and don't come worrying the people he belongs to about Rancher Ormesby.'"

I groaned inwardly, and only by an effort concealed my blank consternation. "What did they say next?" I asked.

"Nothing much. The younger one – and I was half sorry I'd spoken straight to her – opened her eyes wide. The elder one she looks at me in a way that made me feel fit to choke her, while Haldane made a little bow. 'I have no doubt he is in capable hands, and we need not trouble you further. No, I don't think you need mention that we called,' says he."

Sally tossed her head with an air of triumph as she concluded, and I lay very still, for it was too late to pray for deliverance from my friends, though of all the rude succession this was about the most cruel blow. What mischievous fiend had prompted the quick-tempered girl to turn upon the Haldanes I could never surmise, but jealousy might have had something to do with it, for Trooper Cotton had once been a favorite of hers. In any case, the result appeared disastrous, for, while I believed her no more than thoughtless, there was no disguising the fact that some of the settlers' less-favored daughters spoke evil of Sally Steel, and I feared their stories had reached Bonaventure.

When five minutes or so had passed she looked at me somewhat shyly. "You're not mad?" she said.

"I could hardly be vexed with you, whatever happened, after all you have done for me. I was only thinking," I made shift to answer. "Still, you might have been a little more civil, Sally."

For a moment or two the girl appeared almost penitent; then she bent her head towards my own, and again the mischief crept into her eyes.

"I'd have brought them in to a banquet, if I had only guessed," she said; and with a thrill of laughter she slipped out of the room. It was with sincere relief I saw her go, for I was in no mood for the somewhat pointed prairie banter, and felt that, in spite of her manifold kindnesses, I could almost have shaken Sally Steel. Then I turned my head from the light, remembering I was not only a ruined man without even power to move, but had left a discordant memory with the friends whose good opinion I most valued, and whom now I might never again meet on the old terms.

CHAPTER VIII
HOW REDMOND CAME HOME

The weather continued pitilessly hot and dry, when, one afternoon, Trooper Cotton, returning from a tour of fireguard inspection, sat near the window-seat in which I lay at Gaspard's Trail. I was glad of his company, because the sight of the parched prairie and bare strip of plowland was depressing. Barns and granary alike were empty, for the earth had failed to redeem her promise that season, and an unnatural silence brooded over Gaspard's Trail.

"I don't know what has come over this country," the trooper said. "One used to get a cheery word everywhere, but now farmer and stockman can hardly answer a question civilly, and the last fellow I spoke to about his fireguards seemed inclined to assault me. Presumably it's the bad times, and I'll be thankful when they improve. It might put some of you into a more pleasant humor."

"If you had said bad men you might have been nearer the mark," I answered dryly. "We are a peaceable people, but there's an oppression worse than any governmental tyranny, and from the rumors in the air it's not impossible some of us may try to find our own remedy if we are pushed too far."

"That's a little indefinite," said Cotton, with a laugh. "If you mean taking the law into your own hands, there would be very unpleasant work for me. Still, I'm sorry for all of you, especially those whom that flabby scoundrel Lane seems to be squeezing. He's been driving to and from the railroad a good deal of late, and it's curious that twice when I struck his trail two traveling photographers turned up soon after him. One was a most amusing rascal, but I did not see the other, who was busy inside the wagon tent, and who apparently managed the camera. I'll show you a really tolerable picture of me he insisted on taking."

It struck me that Boone, or Adams, had twice run a serious risk; but I said nothing, and Cotton, fumbling inside his tunic, tossed a litter of papers on the table. These were mostly official, but there were odd letters among them, for the trooper was not remarkable for preciseness, and I noticed a crest upon some of the envelopes, while, after shuffling them, he flung me a small card, back uppermost. I was surprised when, turning it over, the face of Lucille Haldane met my gaze.

"It is a charming picture; but that is only natural, considering the original. How did you get this, Cotton?" I said.

The trooper snatched it from me, and a darker color mantled his forehead. "Confound it! I never meant to show you that," he said.

"So I surmised," I answered dryly; and the lad frowned as he thrust the picture out of sight.

"You will understand, Ormesby, that Miss Haldane did not give me this. I – well – I discovered it."

"Wasn't it foolish of you?" I asked quietly; and the trooper, who, strange to say, did not seem to find my tone of paternal admonition ludicrous, answered impulsively: "I don't know why I should strip for your inspection, Ormesby, or why I should not favor you with a well-known reply; but it is perhaps best that you should not misunderstand the position. I know what you are thinking, but I haven't forgotten I'm Trooper Cotton – nor am I likely to. It's a strange life, Ormesby, and the men who live it go under occasionally. This – God bless her – is merely something to hold on by."

I made no answer, for there was nothing appropriate I could find to say; but it occurred to me that Lucille Haldane might never receive a higher compliment than this lad's unexpectant homage.

"Here is the right one, and you will obliterate the other from your memory," he said, passing me a second photograph. "The fellow who took it knows how to handle a camera."

It was evident he did; and, knowing who he was, the irony of the circumstances impressed me as I examined the picture. "He has an artistic taste and an eye for an effective pose. Are you going to send any copies to your people in England, Cotton?" I said.

"No," answered the lad quietly; "they might not be pleased with it. Well, I dare say, you have guessed long ago that I am one of the legion. Most of my people were soldiers, which was why, when I had two dollars left, I offered the nation my services at Regina; but I am the first of them to wear a police private's uniform."

I nodded sympathetically, and the trooper, who looked away from me out of the window, said: "Talk of the devil! All men, it is said, are equal in this country, but I fancy there's a grade between most of us and your acquaintance, Foster Lane. The fellow has passed the corral, and I can't get out without meeting him."

I nodded with a certain grim sense of anticipation, for I had determined to speak very plainly to Foster Lane, and knew that Cotton could, on occasion, display a refined insolence that was signally exasperating. The next moment Lane came in, red-faced and perspiring, and greeted me with his usual affability.

"I'm on the way to recovery, but unable to ride far, which explains my request for a visit," I said; and Lane waved his large hands deprecatingly.

"Business is business, and you need not apologize, because although I have come two hundred miles you will find first-class expenses charged for in the bill. I can't smoke on horseback. Will you and the trooper try one of these?"

"No, thanks," said Cotton, with an inflection in his voice and a look in his half-closed eyes that would have warned a more sensitive person; but Lane, still holding out the cigar-case, added with mild surprise: "By the price I paid for them they ought to be good."

"I don't doubt it," drawled Cotton, glancing languidly at the speaker. "But a few of what you would call British prejudices still cling to me, and I take cigars and things only from my friends – you see?"

The stout man laughed a little, though there was malice in his eye. "And we are not likely to be acquainted? You are, one might presume, a scion of the English aristocracy, come out to recruit your health or wait until it's a little less sultry in the old country."

"I would hardly go so far!" – and Cotton drawled out the words, as he turned upon his heel. "More unlikely things have happened. At present I have the honor of serving her Majesty as – a police trooper."

Lane handed me his cigar-case when the lad strolled out of the door, but I was in no mood to assume an unfelt cordiality. "I am not inclined for smoking. Hadn't we better come straight to business?" I said.

Lane struck a match, and stretched his legs along the window-seat, though he closed the case with a snap. "Why, certainly! You are ready to redeem the mortgage on Gaspard's Trail?"

He spoke pleasantly, though there was a sneer in his eyes, and he had both lighted his cigar, in spite of my hint, and laid his dusty boots on the cushions with a cool assurance that made me long to personally chastise him. "You probably know that I am not," I said.

"I did hear you had lost some cattle," he answered indifferently. "Well, in that case, I wait your proposition."

"I am open to renew the loan at the original interest until this time next year, when, no matter what I may have to part with, it will be paid off. You have already had a very fair return on your money," I said.

"It can't be done," and Lane looked thoughtfully at his cigar. "I'll carry you on that long at double interest, or make you a bid outright for Crane Valley."

"There is no reason in your first offer; you asked only fifty per cent. increase last time, which was enough in all conscience. What do you want with Crane Valley?"

Lane smiled benignly. "You didn't accept that offer formally. Crane Valley's a pretty location, and I've taken a fancy to it."

I took time to answer, and set my brain to work. The advantage lay with the enemy, but, while it appeared certain that he would dispossess me of Gaspard's Trail, I determined to hold on to Crane Valley. "You can't have it, and I will not pay the extortionate interest. That, I think, is plain enough," I said.

The financier shrugged his shoulders. "I hope you won't be sorry. I haven't quite decided on my program, but you will hear what it is when I'm ready. Have you got your own fixed?"

"I will have soon," I answered, my indignation gaining the mastery. "There is no advantage to be gained by further circumlocution, and you may as well know that I will give you as much trouble as possible before you plunder me. In the first place, if we find Redmond, I shall try to strike you for conspiracy."

"Do you know where Redmond is?" and there was a curious note in the speaker's voice, though I stolidly refrained from any sign of either negation or assent. "Neither do I; but I have my suspicions that he won't be much use to you if you do find him. The man is half-crazy, anyway. Did you ever hear about the fool bullfrog and the ox, Rancher Ormesby?"

He leaned back against the logs, and chuckled so complacently at his own conceit that it was hard to believe this easy-tempered creature was draining half my neighbors' blood; but I was filled with a great loathing for him.

"Your simile isn't a good one, even if it fits the case. An ox is a hard-working, honest, and useful kind of beast; but there's no use bandying words," I said.

"Just so!" and Lane rose lazily. "It's rather a pity you sent for me, because you have not had much for your money. Being rather pressed just now, I won't stay."

I had no intention of requesting him to do so, for the air seemed clearer without him, and presently Cotton returned. For the first time, I told him all my suspicions concerning Redmond, and he looked grave as he listened. "It would have saved some people sorrow if I could only have run that horse-leach in," he commented, gazing regretfully after the diminishing figure of the rider. "Yes; it's curious about Redmond. Lane was over at his place a little while before your accident, and I believe afterwards as well, and since then nobody has seen Redmond. I'll have a talk with Mackay, and put some of our men on his trail. If he's still on top of the prairie they'll find him."

Cotton rode away; and late that evening Steel returned from his own holding with a very grim face, while the eyes of his sister were suspiciously red.

"I'm to be sold up, and am turned out now," he said. "Lane, who won't wait any longer, is foreclosing, and he'll fix things so there will be no balance left. God knows what's to become of Sally and me."

"You need not trouble about Sally," the girl said, with a flash in her eyes. "We'll worry along somehow, and we'll live to see that devil sorry."

Practical counsel seemed the best sympathy, and after asking a few questions, I said: "This is going to be a grain-producing country, and there are plenty acres ready for breaking and horses idle at Crane Valley. When Lane seizes Gaspard's Trail, as he probably will, we must see what can be done with them on the share arrangement; and meantime, since I paid two hired men off, there is plenty for you to do here helping me."

Steel eventually agreed, and as soon as I was fit for the saddle I rode over to Mackay's quarters; but, though he stated that if Redmond were anywhere in the Territories he would sooner or later be found, nothing had so far resulted from his inquiries.

It was some weeks later, and towards the close of a sultry afternoon, when I rode homewards with Cotton and Steel towards the Sweetwater. We had much thunder that season, and though there had been a heavy storm the night before, a stagnant, oppressive atmosphere still hung over the prairie. It suited the somber mood of two of the party, while even Cotton seemed unusually subdued.

Steel's possessions had been sold off that day, and bought up at ridiculously inadequate prices by two strangers, who we all suspected had been financed by Lane. Few of us had a dollar to spare, and the auctioneer, who was also probably under the money-lender's thumb, demanded proof of ability to make the purchase when one or two neighbors attempted to force up the bidding. Steel rode with slack bridle and his head bent, and I was heavy of heart, for I held Gaspard's Trail only on sufferance, and the same fate must soon overtake me. The prairie stretched before us a desolate waste, fading on the horizon into gray obscurity, and, together with the gloom of the heavens above, its forlorn aspect increased my depression. So we came moodily to the dip to the Sweetwater, and I saw Mackay standing beside a deeper pool below. A rapid flowed into the head of it, and the lines of froth shone with a strange lividness. The time was then perhaps an hour before sunset. When we dismounted to water and rest the horses, Mackay turned sharply and glanced at Cotton.

"All went off quietly?" And the trooper nodded.

"Yes," I said. "We have a long patience, Sergeant; but there were signs on some of the faces that things may go differently some day."

"Ay?" said the sergeant, fixing his keen eyes on me as he stood, a lean, bronze-skinned statue beside the river. "What were ye meaning, Rancher Ormesby?"

"I was merely giving you a hint," I said. "We have paid all demanded from us and kept the law, but now, when the powers that rule us stand by and watch us ground out of existence to enrich a few unprincipled schemers, it is hard to say what might not happen."

"Ye did well," was the dry answer. "It will be my business to see ye keep it still; but in this country any man has liberty to talk just as foolishly as it pleases him. Can the law change the seasons for ye, or protect the careless from their own improvidence? But let be. I'm older than most o' ye, and have seen that there's a measure set on oppression."

He concluded with a curious assurance which approached solemnity; but Steel added, with a Western expletive, that he had already let be until he was ruined. Then I broke in: "If I can find Redmond and wring the truth from him I hope to prove that the limit has been reached; and I purpose, in the first place, to see what the law will do for me. Have you any word of him?"

"No," and the sergeant's tone was very significant. "If he were still above the prairie-sod we should have found him. But there was a bit freshet last night – and I am expecting him."

Steel, I fancied, shivered, and though the speaker might well be mistaken, anything that served to divert our thoughts was a relief, and for a while we lay among the grasses, smoking silently. The sky was heavily overcast, there was no breath of air astir, and the slow gurgle of the river drifted mournfully down the hollow. For some reason, I felt strangely restless and expectant, as though something unusual would shortly happen. A faint drumming of hoofs rose up from somewhere far off across the prairie, as well as a sound which might have been made by an approaching wagon.

"That's Lane striking south for the railroad with a few of the boys behind him," Steel said listlessly. "There'll be thunder before he reaches it, and Lardeau's team is wild, but there's no use hoping they'll bolt and break Lane's neck for him. Accidents do not happen to that kind of man."

A little time had passed, and the beat of horses' feet broke in a rhythmic measure through the heavy stillness, when Cotton, who had followed his sergeant along the bank, raised a shout, and I leaped to my feet, for something that circled with the current was drifting down stream. We ran our hardest, and, for I was not strong yet, the others were standing very silent, with tense faces and staring eyes, when I rejoined them.

"Yon's Redmond," said Sergeant Mackay. "I was expecting him."

The object he pointed to slid slowly by abreast of us, and I felt a shock of physical nausea as I stared at it. At that distance it was without human semblance, a mere shapeless mass of sodden clothing, save for the faint white glimmer of a face; but the shock gave place to a fit of sullen fury. Heaven knows I cherished no anger against the unfortunate man. Indeed, from the beginning, I had regarded him as a mere helpless tool; but death had robbed me of my only weapon, and I remembered Lane's prediction that Redmond would be of little use to me if I found him.

"If one of ye has a lariat ye had better bring it," said Sergeant Mackay.

We followed the object down stream. It floated slowly, now half-submerged, now rising more buoyantly, with the blanched countenance turned towards the murky heavens, out of which the light was fading, until Steel, poising himself upon the bank, deftly flung a coupled lariat. The noose upon its end took hold, and I shrank backwards when we drew what it held ashore, for Redmond's face was ill to look upon, and seemed to mock me with its staring eyes.

"Stan' clear!" said the sergeant, perhaps feeling speech of any kind would be a relief, for nobody showed the least desire to crowd upon him. "If it had not been for the regulations a drop of whisky would have been acceptable, seeing that it's my painful duty to find out how he came by his end."

The words were excusable, but there was no whisky forthcoming; and though, perhaps, only one man in a hundred would have undertaken that gruesome task, the sergeant went through it with the grim thoroughness which characterized all his actions.

"There's no sign of a blow or bullet that I can find, and I'm thinking only the Almighty knows whether he drowned himself or it was accidental death. Ye can identify him, all of ye?"

We thought we could, but had been so intent that nobody noticed the trampling of horses' hoofs until a wagon was drawn up close by, and several riders reined in their beasts.

"Here's a man who ought to," said Steel. "Come down and swear to your partner, Lane."

Turning, I saw my enemy start as he looked over the side of the wagon at what lay before him. Every eye was fixed upon him, and Steel stood quietly determined by the wheel.

"I'm in a hurry, and don't fill the post of coroner," the former said.

"Will you come down?" Steel added; and there was a low growl from the assembly, while Lane shrank back from that side of the vehicle. "I guess it's certain this man was the last to see Redmond alive."

"Drive on!" said Lane to the teamster; but the man hesitated, while, when his employer snatched up the reins, there was another murmur deeper than before, and mounted men closed about the wagon, their figures cutting blackly against the fading light. Why they were journeying homewards in such company I did not learn, but, overtaking it, they had perhaps ridden beside the wagon for the purpose of expressing their frank opinion of its occupant.

"Ye cannot pass until ye have answered my questions," said Sergeant Mackay. "If he does not dismount ye have authority to help him, Steel. Ye will hold the horses, Trooper Cotton."

Lane slowly climbed down the wheel, and neither Mackay nor Cotton interfered when, as he showed signs of remaining at the foot of it, Steel's hand closed firmly on his neck and forced him forwards, apparently much against his wishes. Then the ruined farmer held him, protesting savagely, beside the body of his victim. It was, in its own way, an impressive scene – the erect, soldierly figures of the uniformed troopers, the circle of silent mounted men, who moved only to sooth their uneasy horses, and the white-faced man who shivered visibly as he looked down at the sodden heap at his feet. There was also, even had the two been strangers, ample excuse for him.

"While protesting that this is an outrage, I am ready to answer your questions," he said huskily.

"Who is this man? Did ye know him?" asked the sergeant, whose face remained woodenly impassive.

"Rancher Redmond, by his clothing," was the answer. "Yes; if necessary, I think I could swear to him." And the sergeant asked again: "When and where did ye last see him?"

"In the birch coulée, at dusk, three weeks past Tuesday. That would make it – " But the financier seemed unable to work out the simple sum, and concluded: "You can figure the date for yourself."

"What business had ye with him?" and the sergeant smiled dryly at the answer: "That does not concern you."

"Maybe no. If ye have good reasons for not telling I will not press ye, though ye may be called upon to speak plainly. Do ye know how he came into the river?"

"No," said Lane, a trifle too vehemently.

"Do ye know of any reason why he should have drowned himself?" And Lane turned upon the questioner savagely:

"I'll make you all suffer for your inference! Why should I know? I challenge the right of anyone but a coroner to detain me."

"I'll let ye see my authority at the station if I find it necessary to take ye there," said the sergeant grimly. "Noo will ye answer? Do ye know why this man ye had dealings with should wish to destroy himself?"

"You're presuming a good deal," was the answer; and Lane's face grew malevolent as he glanced at Steel and me. "How do you know he did destroy himself, anyway; and if he did, I guess it's an open secret he had trouble with Ormesby and Steel."

I sprang forward, but Cotton laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and there was a threatening ejaculation from one of the bystanders. "Well, to satisfy you, I solemnly declare I am in no way connected with what has befallen the deceased rancher, and know of no reason why he should have attempted his life. This isn't a court; but because I'm in a hurry, and to stop chattering tongues, I call heaven to witness it is the truth."

I believed that, after a villainous attempt to divert suspicion to me, the man was deliberately perjuring himself, and several of the bystanders must have believed it, too. Most of them were not wholly free from superstition, and their faces were almost expectant as they stood strung up and intent about the dead man under the deepening gloom. Then a flicker of pale lightning filled the hollow. Each face was lit up for a second, and Lane's was livid; and, when the flash faded, the dusk seemed to deepen suddenly, and a boom of distant thunder rolled from swelling level to level across the prairie. Thunder had been very frequent during the last few weeks, but the listeners seemed to find the coincidence significant.

"Ye can pass," said the sergeant, whose voice seemed a trifle unsteady. "But it will be on horseback, and we may want ye later. Lardeau – it's a charity – ye will lend Redmond the wagon."

"You can't have it," said Lane. "I have a long journey before me and a rheumatic thigh. If you take the wagon I hired what am I to do?"

"You can ride with Redmond. His house is on your way, and you can't hurt him, anyway. The poor devil's beyond you now," said a stern voice; and Lane, who allowed the teamster to help him onto one of the horses which was replaced, departed hurriedly.

"I congratulate ye," said Sergeant Mackay significantly. "He was a fellow-creature, boys. Who'll help me lift him in? We will e'en need the same service ourselves some day."

I shuddered, but took my place with Steel among the rest; and when the task was accomplished, the latter expressed both our feelings as he said: "I wouldn't for five hundred dollars do that again; but it seemed the poor devil's due after what we said about him. I guess he wasn't quite responsible, and was driven to it; but, when it comes to the reckoning, God help the man who drove him."

It was dark when we gained the level and followed the creaking wagon that jolted before us across the prairie. Few words were spoken. A low rumbling of thunder rolled across the great emptiness, while now and then a pale blue flash fell athwart the lathered horses and set faces of the men. "The beasts," said one big farmer, "know considerably more than they can tell. Look at the near one sweating! I guess they find Redmond or the load he's carrying mighty heavy."

"Then," added another voice, which broke harshly through the thuds of hoofs, "ten teams wouldn't move the man who rode away."

The ways of the prairie dwellers are in some respects modern and crudely new; but the Highland servants of the Hudson's Bay Company and the French half-breed voyageur have between them left us a dowry of quaint belief and superstition; and the growl of the thunder and the black darkness made a due impression on most of those who brought Redmond home. For my part I was thankful when a lonely log-house loomed up ahead and the wagon came to a standstill. Four men, improvising a stretcher, took up their burden, and halted as Sergeant Mackay and another, neither of whom seemed to care about his errand, knocked on the door.

A young woman opened it, holding aloft a lamp, and under its uncertain light her face showed drawn and pale. I breathed harder, and heard some of those about me murmur compassionately, for she looked very frail and young to bear what must follow. The sergeant's words did not reach us, but a swift glare of blue flame, that left us dazzled, broke in upon them. The whole space about the building was flooded with temporary brilliancy, and Redmond's daughter must have seen us standing about the wagon and the bearers waiting, for she dropped the lantern (which Mackay seized in time), and caught at the logs which framed the door as if for support. A minute must have passed before the slight form once more stood erect upon the threshold.