Gregory Penne stood in a sweat of fear, but, so standing, recovered some of his balance. There was time to change. He went up to his ornate bedroom, flung off his pyjamas, and in a short space of time was down again in the dark grounds, seeking for the ape.
Dressed, he felt more of a man. A long glass of whisky restored some of his confidence. He rang for the servant who was in charge of his car.
“Have the machine by the postern gate,” he said. “Get it there at once. See that the gate is open: I may have to leave tonight.”
That he would be arrested he did not doubt. Not all his wealth, his position, the pull he had in the county, could save him. This latest deed of his was something more than eccentricity.
Then he remembered that Stella Mendoza was still in the house, and went up to see her. A glance at his face told her that something unusual had happened.
“Where is Adele?” she asked instantly.
“I don’t know. She escaped—she had a pistol. Bhag went after her. God knows what will happen if he finds her. He’ll tear her limb from limb. What’s that?”
It was the faint sound of a pistol shot at a distance, and it came from the back of the house.
“Poachers,” said Gregory uneasily. “Listen, I’m going.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“That’s no damned business of yours,” he snarled. “Here’s some money.” He thrust some notes into her hand.
“What have you done?” she whispered in horror.
“I’ve done nothing, I tell you,” he stormed. “But they’ll take me for it. I’m going to get to the yacht. You’d better clear before they come.”
She was collecting her hat and gloves when she heard the door close and the key turn. Mechanically he had locked her in, and mechanically took no heed of her beating hand upon the panel of the door.
Griff Towers stood on high ground and commanded a view of the byroad from Chichester. As he stood in the front of the house, hoping against hope that he would see the ape, he saw instead two lights come rapidly along the road.
“The police!” he croaked, and went blundering across the kitchen garden to the gate.
XXXVII
At the Tower Again
Adele went flying down the drive, intent only upon one object, to escape from this horrible house. The gates were closed, the lodge was in darkness, and she strove desperately to unfasten the iron catch, but it held.
Looking back toward the oblong of light which represented the tower door, she was dimly aware of a figure moving stealthily along the grass that bordered each side of the roadway. For a moment she thought it was Gregory Penne, and then the true explanation of that skulking shape came to her, and she nearly dropped. It was Bhag!
She moved as quietly as she could along the side of the wall, creeping from bush to bush, but he had seen her, and came in pursuit, moving slowly, cautiously, as though he was not quite sure that she was legitimate prey. Perhaps there was another gate, she thought, and continued, glancing over her shoulder from time to time, and gripping the little pistol in her hand with such intensity that it was slippery with perspiration before she had gone a hundred yards.
Now she left the cover of the wall and came across a meadow, and at first she thought that she had slipped her pursuer. But Bhag seldom went into the open, and presently she saw him again. He was parallel with her, walking under the wall, and showing no sign of hurry. Perhaps, she thought, if she continued, he would drop his pursuit and go off. It might be curiosity that kept him on her trail. But this hope was disappointed. She crossed a stile and followed a path until she realized it was bringing her nearer and nearer to the wall where her watcher was keeping pace with her. As soon as she realized this, she turned abruptly from the path, and found herself walking through dew-laden grasses. She was wet to the knees before she had gone far, but she did not even know this—Bhag had left cover and was following her into the open!
She wondered if the grounds were entirely enclosed by a wall, and was relieved when she came to a low fence. Stumbling down a bank on to a road which was evidently the eastern boundary of the property, she ran at full speed, though where the road led she could not guess. Glancing back, she saw, to her horror, that Bhag was following, yet making no attempt to decrease the distance which separated them.
And then, far away, she saw the lights of a cottage. They seemed close at hand, but were in reality more than two miles distant. With a sob of thankfulness she turned from the road and ran up a gentle slope, only to discover, to her dismay, when she reached the crest, that the lights seemed as far away as ever. Looking back, she saw Bhag, his green eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Where was she? Glancing round, she found an answer. Ahead and to the left was the squat outline of old Griff Tower.
And then, for some reason, Bhag dropped his role of interested watcher, and, with a doglike growl, leapt at her. She flew upward toward the tower, her breath coming in sobs, her heart thumping so that she felt every moment she would drop from sheer exhaustion. A hand clutched at her cloak and tore it from her. That gave her a moment’s respite. She must face her enemy, or she herself must perish.
Spinning round, her shaking
