Now that the man-tracker was off the trail, Barkswell felt better. He had
concocted a tremendous plot that his theft of the diamonds came near
despoiling. It was not his wish to have Rose know of the existence of his
wife. If necessary, the villain had resolved to put that wife out of the
way forever.
There never was a plotter less scrupulous than this man, whose smooth
tongue and jaunty exterior had stood him so well during almost a lifetime
of villainy.
Now, at one fell stroke, his villainy lay exposed.
He regarded Rose for some moments with painful silence.
"I have found you out at last," cried the maiden, her cheeks flaming, a
lofty scorn in her great dark eyes.
"Rose, don't misjudge me."
"Misjudge you?"
"Yes; I repeat it, you misjudge me, Rose Alstine."
For some moments she did not speak. Then, of a sudden, she made a
movement as if to enter the place where this man's wife sat bowed and
weeping.
He put out his hand.
"Do not go in there."
"Stand aside, sir."
She pushed her way forward in spite of his interference, and stood
confronting the woman in the summer-house.
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