“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Silva said, with a smile. “But why have you not come in the ordinary way? And now, perhaps, you will be good enough to tell me what you are after?”
“You are wasting our time,” Lord Ravenspur said sternly. “We are in search of Miss Vera Rayne, as you know perfectly well. There is not the slightest occasion to lie about it, because I heard her voice just now. Take us to her at once.”
“Your lordship’s hearing is remarkably good,” Silva sneered; “but the scream of one angry woman is so like that of another that I am not prepared to agree with your statement. However, as I appear to be only one to three of you, I suppose you will have your own way and search the house.”
“That most assuredly,” Venables put in.
“Then I will make no attempt to stop you. I will stay here while you make your search, and perhaps when you have found out that you are mistaken you will apologise to me.”
The speaker was perfectly cool and self possessed. With a wave of his hand he intimated that the house was quite at the disposal of the intruders. He sat there with his legs crossed, apparently in the enjoyment of a cigarette; but when once the party had scattered his attitude changed entirely. He darted across the hall and out into the garden. His task was not yet finished. There was a deal to do before he could face his enemies again. He was not a bit downcast, though his plot had partially failed, and though he knew now that before long Vera Rayne would be in the hands of her friends again. All he thirsted for now was a weapon by which he could take the vengeance for which he had panted all these years. Slowly he dragged the unconscious body of his victim in the direction of the little gate leading to the lane.
Meanwhile, Ravenspur and his companions were scattered over the house. Ravenspur called Vera by name, and, to his great joy and relief, he heard her answering cry from behind one of the bedroom doors. He was not surprised to find the door locked. But that did not much matter now. Ravenspur flung himself against the woodwork, and the door gave way with a crash. Then Vera rushed out and threw herself, sobbing hysterically, into his arms.
“Never mind me,” she cried. “Save him!”
“Of whom are you speaking?” Ravenspur asked.
“Why, Walter, of course,” Vera went on. “I believe that dreadful man poisoned him. He lured Walter into the dining-room and gave him a glass of wine, and when I got there, he … Oh, it was too dreadful! Then I broke the window and screamed for assistance, and you came in.”
Ravenspur listened uneasily. In the excitement of the moment he had forgotten all about Walter.
“Try and calm yourself,” he said. “So much depends upon you now. Tell me all that happened.”
“I came down with that man last night,” Vera said. “He brought me a letter from my mother. I wanted to come, and I didn’t want to come. I think you will be able to understand my feelings. Then two of them drugged me and carried me down here. It has been a dreadful time. I began to hope this morning, when I saw you in the garden, and Walter gave me a kind of sign. I felt quite sure then that you were not far off, and the knowledge gave me courage. I was locked up in a room at the top of the house, but I managed to escape through a trap-door, and I was actually on the landing in the darkness when Walter came. He was taken utterly by surprise by this man Silva, and I am sure that he was terribly knocked about and shaken by a fall that he had had. Then I managed to let Walter know that I was in the house. It was a daring thing to do, and Silva must have seen it, though I did not think so at the moment. After that he got Walter downstairs, under pretence of giving him a glass of wine, and then he poisoned him. Oh, I am so distracted that I hardly know what I am speaking about. It is dreadful to think—”
“I am quite sure you are mistaken,” Ravenspur said. “This man Silva has no quarrel with Walter, and when we come to get at the truth you will find that there is no greater mischief than a comparatively harmless drug. But where is Walter? Drugged or not, he certainly was not in the dining-room when we got there just now.”
“But he must be,” Vera protested. “I saw him lying in an armchair, to all appearances dead.”
Ravenspur wasted no time in further argument. He went straight back to the dining-room, but no signs of Walter were to be seen. Silva had disappeared also. A strong draught was blowing from the open back door. Ravenspur began to understand pretty well what had taken place. He turned eagerly to Vera.
“Come along with me,” he exclaimed. “We are going into the garden. I shall not be in the least surprised to find that Silva has dragged Walter out there. He would
