The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

husband's death, could he produce the one and secure the other?

Suddenly he saw that there was only one person in the world who, if he chose, could stave off the apparent inevitability of the judge donning the black cap and pronouncing the death sentence on Georgina the foDowing morning. It was Vorontzoff. His enemy had been the first to arrive in the room and find Georgina kneeling by her dead husband's body. If he could be cajoled, bribed or bullied into retracting the evid­ence he had already given, and making a fresh statement, the situation might yet be saved.

For a further ten minutes Roger talked to Pitt, asking his advice on the legal aspects of certain courses which might be pursued. With some reluctance Pitt agreed that one of them was worth attempting; then he added:

'To approve what you have in mind is not consonant with my status as a barrister-at-law, and even less so with my functions as a Minister of the Crown. Yet, from what you tell me, I realise that you are driven to this extremity out of an attachment which combines the highest feelings of a brother, friend and lover. In such a case I cannot find it in myself to put a restraint upon you. Officially, I must know nothing of this matter, but as a friend I hope that you will succeed in your unorthodox endeavour to unveil the truth and establish Lady Etheredge's innocence.'

*****

Side by side they went downstairs to their respective carriages. Britain's great Prime Minister, sitting stiff- necked and unbending, as usual, drove the short distance to the House of Commons; while Roger directed Colonel Thursby's coachman to Amesbury House.

For the past three hours he had not given a single thought to Natalia Andreovna. Now, as he walked up the steps of the mansion it struck him that on this, their first night in England, he would have once more to plead urgent business as an excuse for leaving her. But he was not called upon to do so.

On entering the drawing-room, where several members of the family and their friends staying in the house were assembled round a dish of after-dinner tea, the old Marquess told him that when they had finished dinner, as he had not returned, Natalia had expressed a wish to take a drive round Piccadilly and the Parks to see them for the first time in the evening light. She had excused herself from accepting an offer that one of them should accompany her, on the plea that Roger would be disappointed if, during her first outing in London, anyone but himself showed her the sights. So, in order to indulge this whimsy of his foreign guest, the Marquess had sent for his second coachman, who spoke a little French, and told him to take her for an hour's drive round the town.

Roger's mind was too occupied with Georgina to give the matter anything but the scantiest thought. He inquired if Droopy Ned was at home and, on learning that he had not yet come in, excused himself and hurried up to his room.

There, he collected one of his pistols, loaded it, thrust it into the inner pocket of his coat, and, running down to the courtyard, told old Tomkins to drive him to Woronzow House in St. John's Wood.

It was now close on a quarter to eight and an unusually warm even­ing for early spring, but dusk was already obscuring the vistas as he drove up the splendid new thoroughfare of Portland Place and out into the country. For the best part of a mile the way lay through farm lands, then they turned off the Hampstead Road and entered the shadows of a woodland glade.

During the drive Roger had had time to think out his plan of cam­paign. He felt certain that if he drove up to the front door of the Embassy, and sent in his name, Vorontzoff would refuse to see him alone, from fear that he meditated an assault. The proposition that he meant to put to the Ambassador was not, as he had led Pitt to suppose, that he should reveal certain facts that he had so far suppressed out of malice, but that he should go into court next morning and tell a lie to save Georgina's life.

Roger had argued to himself that Vorontzoff was as much re­sponsible for Sir Humphrey Etheredge's death as either he or Georgina, in fact, more so; for had the Russian not sent his midnight messenger to Goodwood it would never have occurred. Therefore he must be persuaded that in common decency it was for him to avert the penalty from falling on another. If entreaties, and appeals to any sense of chivalry he might have, were not enough, Roger meant to threaten him and, as he had disclosed to Pitt, in the last extremity, force him to sign a statement at the point of a pistol.

But any such conversation could not possibly be held in the presence of witnesses; and Roger did not wish his visit to the house to be known even to the Embassy servants, if it could possibly be avoided. So when the carriage drew level with the end of the Embassy garden, he told Tomkins to pull up, and wait there until his return.

Leaving the road he walked round the corner of a wall that enclosed the garden from the wood, and along it for some twenty paces until he came to a wrought-iron gate. He had thought that he would have to climb the wall, but he was saved the trouble, as the gate proved to be unlocked. Having peered through it to make certain that no one was about, he slipped inside.

*****

The house, a large, rambling, two-storied building, was about a hundred yards away, and almost concealed from where Roger stood by a belt of trees, beyond which lay an irregularly-shaped lawn with big ornamental trees growing round its edges. In the failing light the young spring green, which was just beginning to sprout from the earlier trees and bushes, was hardly apparent; but it served to thicken a little the cover afforded by the winter foliage.

Moving cautiously from tree to tree Roger made his way round the west side of the lawn towards the main block of the building. As he got nearer he could see that the ground-floor windows, three of which had lights shining from them, were raised a few feet above a low gravel terrace, on which stood two carved stone seats. The main block had two big bow-windows, each of which supported a separate balcony for the room above, and between them was a doorway with a flight of iron steps leading down to the garden.

Having reached the side of the house, which consisted of a slightly lower wing, he began to tiptoe along the terrace. Just before he came to the first of the lighted windows he crouched down, so as to bring his head below the level of the sill; then he lifted it and risked a quick peep inside. It was a dining-room, and two footmen were in there laying the table for supper. Crouching again, he tiptoed on.

Suddenly a bang and a rattle in his rear, caused him to start and quickly flatten himself against the wall; but it was only one of the foot­men in the room he had just passed, closing the windowed drawing the curtains for the night.

Creeping another few steps he arrived at the first of the big bow-windows. This too, had a light coming from it but not so brightly as from the other. Lifting his head again he peeped in through its lower left-hand corner. The room was a handsomely-furnished study and in it, with his back half-turned to Roger, a wigless man was sitting writing at a desk by the light of a solitary two-branched candelabra. It gave the only light in the room, and so accounted for its dimness, but light enough for Roger to identify the writer. That broad, muscular frame and bull-like neck could belong only to Vorontzoff.

Roger saw that of the three windows that formed the bay those at each side were both open at the top; so he had only to ease up the lower sash of the one nearest him to crawl inside. But the noise he would make in doing so was certain to attract Vorontzoff's attention; and the Russian might shout for help, or if he were armed, become master of the situation before his visitor could cover him with a pistol.

To see the Russian sitting there with his back turned, and only some panes of glass in between them, was, for Roger, tantalising in the extreme. At first sight it had seemed such a piece of good fortune that the mildness of the weather had led to several ground-floor win­dows being open; so it was doubly aggravating now to realise that he could not take advantage of that without giving his enemy the advan­tage over him.

It occurred to him that he could smash one of the window panes, thrust his pistol through it pointed at Vorontzoff's back, and threaten to shoot him if he called for help; then make him come to the window, raise its lower sash and admit his visitor himself. But there was a danger attached to such a proceeding. One of the servants might hear the smashing of the glass, and come running to see if his master had met with an accident. On consideration that seemed unlikely, so Roger decided to risk it. But, just as he was about to pull out his pistol, he saw the door of the room opening, and was forced to duck out of sight.

A moment later he stole a cautious glance. A footman stood framed in the doorway and was just ending a sentence in Russian. Vorontzoff replied abruptly in the same language, and stood up.

Roger gave them another thirty seconds, then peeped again. The footman was lighting the candles in the chandelier and Vorontzoff was on the far side of the room putting on his wig in front of a gilt-framed wall-mirror. After a slightly longer interval Roger snatched another look. Vorontzoff was just going out of the door and the