“Hold on to the edge for a minute—I’m puffed!” gasped Cawler, and she obeyed.
Over her shoulder she saw the door bulging, and then there came a crash as a huge body was thrown against it.
“Up with you!” said the chauffeur, and, stretching down, gripped her beneath the arms and pulled her far enough up to enable her, by her own exertions, to reach the flat, lead-covered roof.
Cawler looked round anxiously. As he gazed at the door he saw a panel shiver. Holding the girl by the arm he drew her along the roof. An old lantern, illuminated by a candle, was all the light there was to guide them, but she saw the end of the ladder, and, without a word of instruction, swung herself over and, remembering a trick of her childhood, slid down; it was not dignified, but it was rapid. She had hardly reached the ground before she was joined by Cawler.
He looked anxiously at the parapet. The moon was momentarily obscured by clouds, but there was enough light to see the silhouette of the giant man as he too came to the ladder. There was no time to pull it down. Gripping the girl by the arm, they raced along a path, turned abruptly, and, threading their way through the trees, ran without stopping until they reached a shallow ditch, across which he assisted her.
Cawler had tossed the lantern away before the flight began. They had no other light to aid them but the fitful rays of the moon. At the other side of the ditch he stopped.
“Don’t make a noise,” he whispered.
She could hear nothing, but he seemed uncertain.
“If I could only get at my car,” he muttered. “Come on!”
They laboured through a field of growing corn until they came to a gate, which was open. Now they were on a road and facing a very high, old wall.
“That’s Selford Park,” explained Cawler, and the girl started.
Selford Park! She had no idea they were anywhere near that dreadful place, and she shivered.
“There’s a gap in the wall farther along; I think that’ll be the best place to take you. If he gets on our track we shan’t be able to shake him off.”
“Who is he?” she asked, and then: “What happened? I heard somebody scream.”
“So did I,” said Cawler in a low voice. “I thought it was you. That’s why I got the ladder and came up to see what was happening. I’ve been up there before, and I know that old skylight like a book.”
He did not explain that he was by nature curious and suspicious, and that he had his own views as to Cody’s sincerity in certain matters and had indulged in a little private investigation of his own. As it happened, this theory that Cody was a swell mobsman (Mr. Cawler invariably theorized on a magnificent scale) was miles away from the truth; but he had made many surreptitious visits into the forbidden portions of the house without succeeding, however, in confirming his natural prejudices against the man who was his master.
“Something’s happening; I know that,” he said, as they walked along the road. “I’ve seen him once before—that naked man. At least, he’s not naked; he’s got an old pair of breeches on, but he don’t wear any shirt.”
“Who is he?” she asked, in a horrified whisper.
“I don’t know. A sort of giant—a bit mad, I think. I only saw him at a distance once, and he scared the life out of me. I’ve got an idea—but that won’t interest you. Here’s the hole in the wall.”
It was not visible, even in daylight, for the gap was filled with a seemingly impassable barrier of rhododendrons, but Mr. Cawler had evidently been here before also, for he lifted a bough, and, crawling under, she found herself inside the park.
It was not that portion of the park with which she was familiar, and he told her, as they trudged across the billowy grass, that it was called Shepherds’ Meadows, and that here the old lord had kept his famous Southdowns.
He kept up an intermittent flow of talk; told her, to her surprise, that Mrs. Cody was his aunt.
“She brought me up when I was a kid, me and my brother Johnny; he died when I was about six.”
“Have you been with her all your life?” asked the girl, glad to have some interest to take her mind off her experience.
He laughed contemptuously.
“With her? Lord, no! I got away as soon as I could.”
“Wasn’t she kind to you?”
“She’s never heard the word,” was the uncompromising reply. “Kind? I’d say she was! If I went to bed without feeling hungry I used to think I was ill! She used to whack me to keep her in good shape, the same as you take dumbbell exercise. She hated Johnny worse than me. He was my twin brother. I reckon he was pretty lucky to die.”
She listened in amazement.
“And yet you went back to her?”
Cawler did not immediately answer, and when he did he prefaced his words with a little chuckle.
“She made good and I made bad,” he said. “Not to tell you a lie, miss, I’ve been in prison sixteen times, mainly for hooking.”
“For thieving?” she guessed.
“That’s right,” he said, in no sense abashed. “I’m a natural-born thief. Motorcars mostly. I’ve taken more cars from racetracks than you’ll ever own, young lady. But the last time I was up before the judge,” he added in a more serious tone, “he gave me a warning that the next time I went up to the Old Bailey I’d be charged
