On his left another shadow showed, distinguishable in the night
only because it moved.
In a moment both shadows were gone, secret and deadly in the dark,
and Dunn was very sure that Clive's life and his own both hung
upon a slender chance, for if either of them was discovered the
leaping bullet would do the rest.
It would be safe and easy--suspected burglars in a garden at
midnight--nothing could be said. He lay very still with his face
to the dewy sod, and all the night seemed full to him of searching
footsteps and of a swift and murderous going to and fro.
He heard distinctly from the road a sudden, muffled sound as Clive
in the darkness blunderingly missed his footing and fell upon one
knee.
"That's finished him," Dunn thought grimly, his ears straining for
the sharp pistol report that would tell Clive's tale was done, and
then he was aware of a cat, a favourite of Ella's and often petted
by himself, that was crouching near by under a tree, most likely
much puzzled and alarmed by this sudden irruption of hurrying men
into its domain. Instantly Dunn saw his chance, and seizing the
animal, lifted it and threw it in the direction where he guessed
Deede Dawson to be.
His guess was good and fortune served him well, for the tabby
flying caterwauling through the air alighted almost exactly in
front of Deede Dawson on top of a small bush.
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