As Chester turned to face what he
knew must prove to be a desperate encounter, Marion
snatched at his wrist.
“Quick!” she whispered,
and hurried with him through a door on their right,
which led into a library with two windows facing the
street; but the shutters were closed and the place
was dimly lit by four diamond-shaped holes cut in
their top panels, each of which sent a broad white
ray across the room, to strike upon the end nearest
the door, and to avoid their light Marion led him
quickly close up into one corner by the window curtain.
They had hardly taken refuge there,
to stand close together, when a hand struck the panel
a sharp pat, and gave the door, which had gently swung
to, a thrust which sent it back against the stop.
“Come in here,” said James
Clareborough in a low, surly voice; and Chester felt
his companion shiver, and the blood surged to his brain
as he dimly saw the shadowy figures of four men enter
the room, three of whom took chairs and threw themselves
into them, the other standing against a book-case
with a dull patch of light from the window shutters
striking full upon his breast, about which his hand
kept on playing nervously.
It seemed to Chester that it was only
a matter of moments before they would be seen; but
so far the party were unconscious of their presence,
and a couple of dull red spots of light waxed and waned
as the aromatic fumes of cigar smoke began to pervade
the room.
“Throw open one of the shutters,
uncle,” cried James Clareborough, hoarsely.
“No, no,” half shouted
a voice which Chester recognised at once as that of
his old patient.
“What! Why?” cried
James Clareborough, and the violent throbbing of Chester’s
heart grew less painful as he heard Robert Clareborough’s
reply
“Because if ever men wanted the darkness it
is now.”
It was a respite, for no one uttered
a word for a few moments. Then in a low, angry
voice, James Clareborough spoke again, and, with his
every nerve on the strain, Chester noted that he took
his glowing cigar from his lips and held it down between
his knees.
“Curse them! Who would
ever have thought of the fools attempting that?”
“Where’s your wife, uncle?”
said a voice which made the hand with which Marion
clung to Chester’s wrist give a slight twitch.
“Upstairs, lying down, my boy,”
said another voice, and it was Chester’s turn
to start as he recognised it as one he had heard before,
though he could not make out where.
“Is she much hurt?” said Robert Clareborough.
“More frightened than hurt,”
said the same voice. “Of course it is a
terrible shock.”
“Horrible! Here, this
must be the end of it. What do you say, Paddy?”
“Confound it! yes. I’m sick.”
“Will you stop this cursed preaching,
Rob?” snarled James Clareborough. “You
fools! You know there can be no end to it.
What are you talking about? It was their own
fault.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Rob in
a tone which made his sister shiver.
“Look here,” continued
James Clareborough; “are you two going to show
the white feather? Take the case fairly, Paddy.
Suppose this had been at The Towers in the night,
and we came upon a couple of scoundrels
with revolvers, mind! carrying off the girls’
jewellery, would either of you have hesitated about
firing?”
“I suppose not,” said
Dennis, heavily, “but it seemed such cold-blooded
work.”
“Been more cold-blooded if they
had dropped us two. Now, then, no nonsense;
let’s look the matter straight in the face.
One thing is enough at a time. We can discuss
Rob’s ideas of a dissolution of partnership
later on,” was added, with a sneer. “Now,
uncle; what about their coming? We had better
have the old lady down.”
“No, let her be; she can tell
you no more than I can. They must have asked
for leave to come up as you were all away, and come
straight here ready to pitch some tale, and your aunt
unsuspectingly let them in. They must have set
upon her, tied her fast, and carried her down.”
“Must, must, must!” cried
James Clareborough, impatiently. “You were
not here.”
“No, boy, but it tells its own
tale. Arthur was dressed as if for a holiday,
and the other fool too.”
“But what did it mean?”
said Rob, hoarsely; “suspicion an
effort to find out or robbery?”
“Robbery, my boy, for certain.
They thought that they would get at the girls’
jewellery.”
“Yes, that’s it,”
said James Clareborough, sharply; “an interrupted
burglary. Curse them! They had all the
professional tools. Well, they won’t want
them any more.”
Marion started, and Chester passed
his arm round her as he felt her trembling violently.
For something like light was beginning to dawn upon
her a light which grew clearer as the thought
of the butler asking leave for him and the footman
to have a day in town, to see to some business, as
the gentlemen were away. That morning at breakfast,
and now
The light was growing hard, clear and ghastly.
“Now, then,” said James
Clareborough, sharply, “let’s look the
position in the face. Everything turns upon
whether anyone knows beside ourselves that the hounds
came here.”
“Yes, everything,” assented
the voice which puzzled Chester still. “Would
anyone know?”
“Is it likely?” said James,
cynically. “They were coming on a burglarious
expedition; they began by half killing the poor old
aunt, and they were trapped trying to blow open the
iron door. Is it probable that they would tell
anyone they were coming here?”
“No; absurd,” said Dennis, shortly.
“But still ”
“Will you hold your tongue,
Rob?” cried his cousin. “Do you think
they would have spoken?”
“No.”
“Then we’re safe in that
direction,” continued James Clareborough.
“The next question is, then, did anyone who
knew them see them come to the house? The odds
are a million to one that no one did, for they would
take pretty good care that their faces were not seen
as they stood waiting. Besides, where does the
inquiry begin? Down yonder. We were away;
they ask for a holiday of my wife; she gives them leave;
and they come away and do not return. Their
relatives, if the poor devils have any, may make inquiry,
but it is doubtful. I daresay we shall find that
the scoundrels have been plundering us, and at the
worst we could prove this. There it is in a
nut-shell. They have disappeared like hundreds
more, and the world will never be any wiser.”
A chill of horror ran through Chester
as he listened to all this, and he was conscious that
his companion hung more heavily upon his arm, as if
about to faint.
The pale, ghastly light was growing
broader and clearer now, and as he grasped the fact
that he was being made the recipient of the acknowledgment
of a terrible deed, he felt strongly, knowing as he
did the character of one of the men present, how perilous
his position was growing. A few minutes more,
he had strung himself up for a sharp encounter with
the relatives who had, as it were, surprised them in
a secret meeting. There would, he felt, be angry
words, there might be blows, but the Clareboroughs
would not dare to proceed farther. Now matters
had assumed a dangerous shape, and his thoughts went
towards the fireplace as he felt that the necessity
might arise for him to defend himself and his companion one
against four.
His heart beat fast, but mingled with
the feelings of alarm which would assail the stoutest
in such a position, he felt thrill after thrill of
delight. For Marion clung more tightly to him,
as if trusting to his protection, and he mentally
swore that he would protect her, come what might.
His thoughts came fast, but he had
little time for musing; and as his arm tightened round
his companion he listened eagerly for the next utterances
of those who were grouped together some twenty feet
away.
“Well,” said James Clareborough,
after a pause, “what have you all to say to
that?”