The thin man who was looking up, granted. “I’ll get out of the way,” he shouted back.

Susan edged forward until she was standing on the fringe of the undergrowth. From there she had an uninterrupted view. She looked up and saw a man sitting astride one of the gables. She recognized him because of his white tie which stood out starkly against his black shirt in the moonlight. What was he doing? She stared, forgetting the man near her, forgetting everything in the sudden feeling of cold horror as her eyes made out the limp figure that dangled at the end of the rope. Even as she recognized the thin frame and the thick untidy hair, the rope suddenly parted and the body fell.

Susan hid her face. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t run away. Her whole body cringed while waiting for the sound of the body to strike the ground. When it came, she fell on her knees, her knuckles forced into her mouth. She felt herself falling forward and for a little while she did not remember what happened.

She must have fainted, she told herself when next she became aware of what was going on. She did not know how long she had been lying on the dry, stubbly grass, but when she peered through the bushes she saw there were three more men in the drive. She recognized Gilroy and the man in the black shirt. The other man, gross and ponderous, she guessed must be Rollo. They were all grouped around Joe’s body, which lay huddled on the cement drive.

She lay flat, watching them, a feeling of horror numbing her senses. It had all been so sudden and so unreal that she knew she would not realize the full hideousness of what had happened until much later. Now, feeling curiously weak and stunned, she was content to lie on the grass and watch these men.

Gilroy said in a soft voice, “Someone’s watching us. I feel their eyes.”

Butch snarled at him. “Shut up, nigger!”

Gilroy continued to stare at Rollo, his great eyes rolled uneasily.

“What do you mean?” Rollo demanded, feeling the short hair on his neck rising.

“Someone’s watching us,” Gilroy repeated. “I’m sure of it.”

Rollo glanced at Butch.

“He’s cracked,” Butch said, looking uneasily at the dark undergrowth.

“Where?” Rollo asked Gilroy. “Who is it?”

Gilroy was staring directly at the bush where Susan was hiding.

Susan became aware of the tense attitude of the men as they turned and looked in her direction. Her blood froze as she realized that they were looking at her and for a moment she forgot that the undergrowth was too thick for them to see her.

She saw them speak together and again they looked in her direction. At that moment, Tom came back carrying a pickaxe and a spade. They turned on him and after a moment’s talk, he and Gilroy picked up Joe between them and moved away behind the woodshed. Rollo and the man in the black shirt conferred together, staring all the time at where Susan crouched and then very slowly they began walking towards her.

For a moment, she remained petrified with terror and then realizing that if they caught her she would never escape, she sprang to her feet and ran madly into the wood.

A shout spurred her on. She could hear someone running after her and the crashing of the undergrowth is a heavy body hurtled forward. She guessed it was Rollo and she did not really worry about him. It was the man in the black shirt who terrified her. He was quick, lean and strong. He would glide soundlessly through the undergrowth and would try to cut her off.

She had no idea where she was running to. As she plunged deeper into the wood, it became darker, but her terror was so great that she kept on, tearing her coat and the brambles and feeling the branches of the trees slashing across her face.

As soon as Susan began to run, Butch sprang forward. So the nigger was right. Whoever it was must not get away. A feeling of exhilaration filled Butch as he swung forward into the wood. This time he would use his hands. Already he felt the urge to get his hands on a throat and to squeeze and keep squeezing.

Rollo was blundering along in the rear making a row like a herd of elephants. The noise he made prevented Butch from picking the right direction and he shouted to Rollo to stand still. Rollo was glad to. The first rush forward had completely winded him and he came to a gasping halt, feeling dazed, breathless and a little faint.

Butch stood listening. To the right he could hear Susan blundering through the undergrowth. Drawing in a deep breath, he began to run forward, moving to the left, moving very fast and silently, preparing to come in in a sweeping circle when he thought he had gone far enough.

Whoever it was running ahead also moved quickly. This irritated Butch and he put on a spurt. Moving at that rate he was unable to keep silent and Susan heard him, alarmingly near. She knew who it was and she wanted to scream for help, but she knew that was the worst thing she could do.

He was coming up fast now and she guessed he was moving in a wide sweep to head her off. Any moment she expected him to crash into view and sobbing for breath, she suddenly shied into a thick clump of bushes and stopped running.

She stood there, trembling and panting, her ears pricked and her eyes wide with fear.

Butch came on and then he too stopped because the sound of Susan’s headlong flight had ceased. She had stopped! He pulled up in a little clearing, motionless and menacing, his head on one side, his eyes intent.

Susan, not more than twelve yards away, knelt in the cover of the bushes and watched him. She began to pray under her breath feverishly and with childish panic. “Oh, God, please don’t let him find me. Please don’t let him find me,” she kept saying to herself.

Butch felt that whoever it was he was chasing could not be far away. The idea that this person might be watching him from some hiding place infuriated him.

“You better come out,” he shouted suddenly. “Do you hear? I can see you, so you better come out!”

Susan caught her breath in a gasp of relief. As he spoke he had turned his back on her. That could only mean he had not as yet guessed where she was.

Butch began to walk slowly forward. Susan watched him move away. Her heart began to beat more steadily. It was going to be all right. He had missed her and she would give him a few minutes’ start and then she would run back the way she had come. She saw Butch move further and further away until she lost sight of him. She listened until finally she could no longer hear his stealthy steps.

Softly she moved out of her shrub and walked into Rollo.

They stood staring at each other in the moonlight. Rollo was the first to recover. He reached out and took her arm. The power of his grip made her fall forward on her knees. She beat at his great fist with her free hand, but it was as if her arm was seized in a vice.

“So,” Rollo said, peering down at her. “Joe’s girlfriend. Yes? that’s who you are, aren’t you?”

Susan couldn’t speak. She just remained on her knees before him, feeling the blood drain out of her heart.

“Butch!” Rollo roared, “Butch! Come here. I’ve got her.”

In the distance she could hear Butch coming, crashing through the undergrowth with a recklessness that told her he was coming to kill her.

She bit Rollo’s hand. Her sharp teeth sank into the fleshy heel of the hand that held her. The taste of his blood made her feel sick. He was taken by surprise. He let go and started back with an oath.

Instantly she was on her feet and away. She heard his bellow of rage and she heard Butch coming swiftly. She put her head down and ran blindly. She suddenly stumbled and then under her feet she felt the hard gravel drive. She had left the wood behind and she was now in the open. She did not pause or attempt to get back into the undergrowth. She ran.