“How many of them are there?” he asked, taking a firmer grip of his poker.
“I couldn’t see properly. You know what a keyhole is. And they only had a flashlight.”
“I expect they’ve gone by now,” said Bill hopefully.
He sat on the bottom stair and drew off his boots. Then, holding them in his hand, he crept along the passage that led to the Council Chamber, Virginia close behind him. They halted outside the massive oak door. All was silent within, but suddenly Virginia pressed his arm, and he nodded. A bright light had shown for a minute through the keyhole.
Bill went down on his knees, and applied his eye to the orifice. What he saw was confusing in the extreme. The scene of the drama that was being enacted inside was evidently just to the left, out of his line of vision. A subdued chink every now and then seemed to point to the fact that the invaders were still dealing with the figure in armour. There were two of these, Bill remembered. They stood together by the wall just under the Holbein portrait. The light of the electric torch was evidently being directed upon the operations in progress. It left the rest of the room nearly in darkness. Once a figure flitted across Bill’s line of vision, but there was not sufficient light to distinguish anything about it. It might have been that of a man or a woman. In a minute or two it flitted back again and then the subdued chinking sounded again. Presently there came a new sound, a faint tap-tap as of knuckles on wood.
Bill sat back on his heels suddenly.
“What is it?” whispered Virginia.
“Nothing. It’s no good going on like this. We can’t see anything, and we can’t guess what they’re up to. I must go in and tackle them.”
He drew on his boots and stood up.
“Now, Virginia, listen to me. We’ll open the door as softly as possible. You know where the switch of the electric light is?”
“Yes, just by the door.”
“I don’t think there are more than two of them. There may be only one. I want to get well into the room. Then, when I say ‘Go’ I want you to switch on the lights. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“And don’t scream or faint or anything. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“My hero!” murmured Virginia.
Bill peered at her suspiciously through the darkness. He heard a faint sound which might have been either a sob or a laugh. Then he grasped the poker firmly and rose to his feet. He felt that he was fully alive to the situation.
Very softly, he turned the handle of the door. It yielded and swung gently inwards. Bill felt Virginia close beside him. Together they moved noiselessly into the room.
At the farther end of the room, the torch was playing upon the Holbein picture. Silhouetted against it was the figure of a man, standing on a chair and gently tapping on the panelling. His back, of course, was to them, and he merely loomed up as a monstrous shadow.
What more they might have seen cannot be told, for at that moment Bill’s nails squeaked upon the parquet floor. The man swung round, directing the powerful torch full upon them and almost dazzling them with the sudden glare.
Bill did not hesitate.
“Go,” he roared to Virginia, and sprang for his man, as she obediently pressed down the switch of the electric lights.
The big chandelier should have been flooded with light; but instead, all that happened was the click of the switch. The room remained in darkness.
Virginia heard Bill curse freely. The next minute the air was filled with panting, scuffling sounds. The torch had fallen to the ground and extinguished itself in the fall. There was the sound of a desperate struggle going on in the darkness, but as to who was getting the better of it, and indeed as to who was taking part in it, Virginia had no idea. Had there been anyone else in the room besides the man who was tapping the panelling? There might have been. Their glimpse had been only a momentary one.
Virginia felt paralysed. She hardly knew what to do. She dared not try to join in the struggle. To do so might hamper and not aid Bill. Her one idea was to stay in the doorway, so that anyone trying to escape should not leave the room that way. At the same time, she disobeyed Bill’s express instructions and screamed loudly and repeatedly for help.
She heard doors opening upstairs, and a sudden gleam of light from the hall and the big staircase. If only Bill could hold his man until help came.
But at that minute there was a final terrific upheaval. They must have crashed into one of the figures in armour, for it fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Virginia saw dimly a figure springing for the window, and at the same time heard Bill cursing and disengaging himself from fragments of armour.
For the first time, she left her post, and rushed wildly for the figure at the window. But the window was already unlatched. The intruder had no need to stop and fumble for it. He sprang out and raced away down the terrace and round the corner of the house. Virginia raced after him. She was young and athletic, and she turned the corner of the terrace not many seconds after her quarry.
But there she ran headlong into the arms of a man who was emerging from a small side door. It was Mr. Hiram P. Fish.
“Gee! It’s a lady,” he exclaimed. “Why, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Revel. I took you for one of the thugs fleeing from justice.”
“He’s just passed this way,” cried Virginia breathlessly. “Can’t we catch him?”
But even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The man must have gained the park by now, and it was a dark night with no moon. She retraced her steps to the Council Chamber, Mr. Fish by her side, discoursing in a soothing monotone upon the habits of burglars in general, of which he seemed to have a wide experience.
Lord Caterham, Bundle and various frightened servants were standing in the doorway of the Council Chamber.
“What the devil’s the matter?” asked Bundle. “Is it burglars? What are you and Mr. Fish doing, Virginia? Taking a midnight stroll?”
Virginia explained the events of the evening.
“How frightfully exciting,” commented Bundle. “You don’t usually get a murder and a burglary crowded into one weekend. What’s the matter with the lights in here? They’re all right everywhere else.”
That mystery was soon explained. The bulbs had simply been removed and laid in a row against the wall. Mounted on a pair of steps, the dignified Tredwell, dignified even in undress, restored illumination to the stricken apartment.
“If I am not mistaken,” said Lord Caterham in his sad voice as he looked around him, “this room has recently been the centre of somewhat violent activity.”
There was some justice in the remark. Everything that could have been knocked over had been kocked over. The floor was littered with splintered chairs, broken china, and fragments of armour.
“How many of them were there?” asked Bundle. “It seems to have been a desperate fight.”
“Only one, I think,” said Virginia. But, even as she spoke she hesitated a little. Certainly only one person—a man—had passed out through the window. But as she had rushed after him, she had a vague impression of a rustle somewhere close at hand. If so, the second occupant of the room could have escaped through the door. Perhaps, though, the rustle had been an effect of her own imagination.
Bill appeared suddenly at the window. He was out of breath and panting hard.
“Damn the fellow!” he exclaimed wrathfully. “He’s escaped. I’ve been hunting all over the place. Not a sign of him.”
“Cheer up, Bill,” said Virginia, “better luck next time.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what do you think we’d better do now? Go back to bed? I can’t get hold of Badgworthy at this time of night. Tredwell, you know the sort of thing that’s necessary. Just see to it, will you?”
“Very good, my lord.”
With a sigh of relief, Lord Caterham prepared to retreat.
“That beggar, Isaacstein, sleeps soundly,” he remarked, with a touch of envy. “You’d have thought all this row would have br
ought him down.” He looked across at Mr. Fish. “You found time to dress, I see,” he added.
“I flung on a few articles of clothing, yes,” admitted the American.
“Very sensible of you,” said Lord Caterham. “Damned chilly things, pyjamas.”
He yawned. In a rather depressed mood, the house party retired to bed.
Eighteen
SECOND MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
The first person that Anthony saw as he alighted from his train on the following afternoon was Superintendent Battle. His face broke into a smile.
“I’ve returned according to contract,” he remarked. “Did you come down here to assure yourself of the fact?”
Battle shook his head.
“I wasn’t worrying about that, Mr. Cade. I happen to be going to London, that’s all.”
“You have such a trustful nature, Battle.”
“Do you think so, sir?”
“No. I think you’re deep—very deep. Still waters, you know, and all that sort of thing. So you’re going to London?”
“I am, Mr. Cade.”
“I wonder why.”
The detective did not reply.
“You’re so chatty,” remarked Anthony. “That’s what I like about you.”
A far-off twinkle showed in Battle’s eyes.
“What about your own little job, Mr. Cade?” he inquired. “How did that go off?”