Eldrick leaned over and gave his orders.
“I’ve told him not only to catch him up, but to get in front of ’em,” he said, settling down again in his seat. “This is a better car than theirs, and we shall be there first. Now, Miss Mallathorpe, don’t you bother—this is probably going to be the clearing-up point of everything. One feels certain, at any rate—Pratt has reached the end of his tether!”
“If I seem to bother,” replied Nesta, “it’s because I know that he and Esther Mawson are at Normandale—working mischief.”
“We shall be there in half an hour,” said Collingwood, as their own car ran past that in which the detectives and Byner were seated. “They can’t do much mischief in that time.”
None of the three spoke again until the car pulled up suddenly at the gates of Normandale Park. The lodge-keeper, an old man, coming out to open them, approached the door of the car on seeing Nesta within.
“There’s a young woman just gone up to the house that wants to see you very particular, miss,” he said. “I tell’d her that you’d gone to Barford, but she said she’d come a long way, and she’d wait till you come back. She’s going across the park there—crossin’ yon path.”
He pointed over the level sward to the slight figure of a woman in black, who was obviously taking a near cut up to the Grange. Nesta looked wonderingly across the park as the car cleared the gate and went on up the drive.
“Who can she be?” she said musingly. “A woman from a long way—to see me?”
“She’ll get to the house soon after we reach it,” said Eldrick. “Let’s attend to this more pressing business first. We should know what’s afoot here in a minute or two.”
But it was somewhat difficult to make out or to discover what really was afoot. The car stopped at the hall door: the second car came close behind it; Nesta, Collingwood, Eldrick, Byner, and the detectives poured into the hall—encountered a much mystified-looking butler, a couple of footmen, and the groom whose services Esther Mawson had requisitioned, and who, weary of waiting for her, had come up to the house.
“What’s all this?” asked Eldrick, taking the situation into his own hands. “What’s the matter? Why did you send for the police?”
“Mrs. Mallathorpe’s orders, sir,” answered the butler, with an apologetic glance at his young mistress. “Really, sir, I don’t know—exactly—what is the matter! We are all so confused! What happened was, that not very long after Miss Mallathorpe had left for town in the carriage, Esther Mawson, the maid, came downstairs from Mrs. Mallathorpe’s room, and was crossing the lower part of the hall, when Mrs. Mallathorpe suddenly appeared up there and called to me and James to stop her and lock her up, as she’d stolen money and jewels! We were to lock her up and telephone for the police, sir, and to add that Mr. Pratt was here.”
“Well?” demanded Eldrick.
“We did lock her up, sir! She’s in my pantry,” continued the butler, ruefully. “We’ve got her in there because there are bars to the windows—she can’t get out of that. A terrible time we had, too, sir—she fought us like—like a maniac, protesting all the time that Mrs. Mallathorpe had given her what she had on her. Of course, sir, we don’t know what she may have on her—we simply obeyed Mrs. Mallathorpe.”
“Where is Mrs. Mallathorpe?” asked Collingwood. “Is she safe?”
“Oh, quite safe, sir!” replied the butler. “She returned to her room after giving those orders. Mrs. Mallathorpe appeared to be—quite calm, sir.”
Prydale pushed himself forward—unceremoniously and insistently.
“Keep that woman locked up!” he said. “First of all—where’s Pratt?”
“Mrs. Mallathorpe said he would be found in a room in the old part of the house,” answered the butler, shaking his head as if he were thoroughly mystified. “She said you would find him fast asleep—Mawson had drugged him!”
Prydale looked at Byner and at his fellow-detectives. Then he turned to the butler.
“Come on!” he said brusquely. “Take us there at once!” He glanced at Eldrick. “I’m beginning to see through it, Mr. Eldrick!” he whispered. “This maid’s caught Pratt for us. Let’s hope he’s still—”
But before he could say more, and just as the butler opened a door which led into a corridor at the rear of the hall, a sharp crack which was unmistakably that of a revolver, rang through the house, waking equally sharp echoes in the silent room. And at that, Nesta hurried up the stairway to her mother’s apartment, and the men, after a hurried glance at each other, ran along the corridor after the butler and the footmen.
Pratt came out of his stupor much sooner than Esther Mawson had reckoned on. According to her previous experiments with the particular drug which she had administered to him, he ought to have remained in a profound and an undisturbed slumber until at least five o’clock. But he woke at four—woke suddenly, sharply, only conscious at first of a terrible pain in his head, which kept him groaning and moaning in his chair for a minute or two before he fairly realized where he was and what had happened. As the pain became milder and gave way to a dull throbbing and a general sense of discomfort, he looked round out of aching eyes and saw the bottle of sherry. And so dull were his wits that his only thought at first was that the wine had
