She heard doors opening upstairs, and a sudden gleam of light from the hall and the big staircase. If only Bill could hold his man until help came.
But at that minute there was a final terrific upheaval. They must have crashed into one of the figures in armour, for it fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Virginia saw dimly a figure springing for the window, and at the same time heard Bill cursing and disengaging himself from fragments of armour.
For the first time, she left her post, and rushed wildly for the figure at the window. But the window was already unlatched. The intruder had no need to stop and fumble for it. He sprang out and raced away down the terrace and round the corner of the house. Virginia raced after him. She was young and athletic, and she turned the corner of the terrace not many seconds after her quarry.
But there she ran headlong into the arms of a man who was emerging from a small side door. It was Mr. Hiram P. Fish.
“Gee! It’s a lady,” he exclaimed. “Why, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Revel. I took you for one of the thugs fleeing from justice.”
“He’s just passed this way,” cried Virginia breathlessly. “Can’t we catch him?”
But, even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The man must have gained the park by now, and it was a dark night with no moon. She retraced her steps to the Council Chamber, Mr. Fish by her side, discoursing in a soothing monotone upon the habits of burglars in general, of which he seemed to have a wide experience.
Lord Caterham, Bundle, and various frightened servants were standing in the doorway of the Council Chamber.
“What the devil’s the matter?” asked Bundle. “Is it burglars? What are you and Mr. Fish doing, Virginia? Taking a midnight stroll?”
Virginia explained the events of the evening.
“How frightfully exciting,” commented Bundle. “You don’t usually get a murder and a burglary crowded into one weekend. What’s the matter with the lights in here? They’re all right everywhere else.”
That mystery was soon explained. The bulbs had simply been removed and laid in a row against the wall. Mounted on a pair of steps, the dignified Tredwell, dignified even in undress, restored illumination to the stricken apartment.
“If I am not mistaken,” said Lord Caterham in his sad voice as he looked around him, “this room has recently been the centre of somewhat violent activity.”
There was some justice in the remark. Everything that could have been knocked over had been knocked over. The floor was littered with splintered chairs, broken china, and fragments of armour.
“How many of them were there?” asked Bundle. “It seems to have been a desperate fight.”
“Only one, I think,” said Virginia. But, even as she spoke, she hesitated a little. Certainly only one person—a man—had passed out through the window. But as she had rushed after him, she had had a vague impression of a rustle somewhere close at hand. If so, the second occupant of the room could have escaped through the door. Perhaps, though, the rustle had been an effect of her own imagination.
Bill appeared suddenly at the window. He was out of breath and panting hard.
“Damn the fellow!” he exclaimed wrathfully. “He’s escaped. I’ve been hunting all over the place. Not a sign of him.”
“Cheer up, Bill,” said Virginia, “better luck next time.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what do you think we’d better do now? Go back to bed? I can’t get hold of Badgworthy at this time of night. Tredwell, you know the sort of thing that’s necessary. Just see to it, will you?”
“Very good, my lord.”
With a sigh of relief, Lord Caterham prepared to retreat.
“That beggar, Isaacstein, sleeps soundly,” he remarked, with a touch of envy. “You’d have thought all this row would have brought him down.” He looked across at Mr. Fish. “You found time to dress, I see,” he added.
“I flung on a few articles of clothing, yes,” admitted the American.
“Very sensible of you,” said Lord Caterham. “Damned chilly things, pyjamas.”
He yawned. In a rather depressed mood, the house party retired to bed.
XVIII
Second Midnight Adventure
The first person that Anthony saw as he alighted from his train on the following afternoon was Superintendent Battle. His face broke into a smile.
“I’ve returned according to contract,” he remarked. “Did you come down here to assure yourself of the fact?”
Battle shook his head.
“I wasn’t worrying about that, Mr. Cade. I happen to be going to London, that’s all.”
“You have such a trustful nature, Battle.”
“Do you think so, sir?”
“No. I think you’re deep—very deep. Still waters, you know, and all that sort of thing. So you’re going to London?”
“I am, Mr. Cade.”
“I wonder why.”
The detective did not reply.
“You’re so chatty,” remarked Anthony. “That’s what I like about you.”
A far-off twinkle showed in Battle’s eyes.
“What about your own little job, Mr. Cade?” he inquired. “How did that go off?”
“I’ve drawn blank, Battle. For the second time I’ve been proved hopelessly wrong. Galling, isn’t it?”
“What was the idea, sir, if I may ask?”
“I suspected the French governess, Battle. A: Upon the grounds of her being the most unlikely person, according to the canons of the best fiction. B: Because there was a light in her room on the night of the tragedy.”
“That wasn’t much to go upon.”
“You are quite right. It was not. But I discovered that she had only been here a short time, and I also found a suspicious Frenchman spying round the place. You know all about him, I suppose?”
“You mean the man who calls himself M. Chelles? Staying at the Cricketers? A traveller in silk.”
“That’s it, is it? What about him? What does Scotland Yard think?”
“His actions have been suspicious,” said Superintendent Battle expressionlessly.
“Very suspicious, I should say. Well, I put two
