Up to that point her progress had been simplicity itself; but now alternative paths began to open up every few yards. The tall hedges cut off everything but the sky; and soon she found that she had completely lost her bearings and was wandering at random. For a time she hurried forward, choosing always those turnings which seemed likely to bring her nearer to where she supposed the centre to lie; but at last the continual windings confused her so much that she could not even tell in which direction to walk in order to reach the inner reaches of the labyrinth. Long zigzag corridors ended, time after time, in blank walls; and in traversing them forwards and back again she grew more and more doubtful of her bearings. When she thought of taking the sun as a reference-point, it was too late; for by that time she had lost all notion of her whereabouts.
“I’m sure I’ve seen that patch of withered leaves in the hedge more than once before,” she said to herself, halting to examine it more carefully. “Yes, I’m certain I passed it a few minutes ago. I must be coming back in my tracks and just going over the same ground again and again.”
With the dying out of her own footfalls, the silence of the Maze impressed itself on her; and she strained her ears to catch the sound of Howard as he moved somewhere beyond these impenetrable green living walls.
“If I really get stuck in here,” she reflected, “I can always blow the horn and bring someone who knows the place to lead me out.”
She listened again, more intently. Then, suddenly there was no need to strain her ears.
First came a dull thud, which unconsciously she recognised as familiar, though she could not identify it at the moment. Then, almost at the same instant, a man’s voice gave an inarticulate cry in which surprise, pain, and anger seemed to be mingled. A moment of silence, then a peculiar metallic grating reached her ears, followed by a second thud and a fresh cry of pain. Again came the familiar metallic rasping, yet another of these familiar dull concussions, and then, lower this time, a last cry. Then there was silence once more.
Vera stood paralysed by what she had heard. In a flash of enlightenment she guessed that behind these inexplicable events some tragedy was in progress; something dreadful was happening quite close at hand, though screened from her by the high green walls which shut her in. She had never heard that note in a man’s voice before. Utterly shocked by the unexpected revelation of violence, she stood for a moment with her knees trembling under her, while her pulse beat in her throat so heavily as to prevent her uttering a sound. Then, with an effort, she found her voice.
“Howard! Are you there? What’s happened? Oh, what’s happened?”
“I’m here.”
She could not make out from which direction his shout came. The towering hedges seemed to deflect sound so that it was impossible to determine even approximately the position of a speaker.
“What were those cries, Howard? What’s happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Somebody hurt. But I can’t get to the place. Stay where you are, Vera. I’ll see if I can find my way to you.”
She listened intently in the silence that followed. Feet moved in the Maze; evidently Howard was doing his best to make in her direction. But beyond this she could detect no other noise, though she strained her ears to the utmost. She had expected to hear groans from the wounded man, but nothing broke the stillness until Howard called to her again. His voice seemed farther off than before.
“Shout, will you, Vera? I’ve lost your direction.”
She called again; and he replied. But as she listened, his footsteps seemed to recede and die away in the distance. Evidently he had found that the direct path was blocked and had had to retreat up some alley to try a fresh start.
Then, with surprise at her previous forgetfulness, she bethought herself of the horn in her hand. That would bring assistance. She ought to have remembered it before. The shock had put it out of her mind. She was in the act of lifting it to her lips when again her nerves were shaken by a new cry from the inner recesses of the Maze.
“Murder!”
She recognised Howard’s voice, tinged with horror. It was a loud-voiced ejaculation rather than a cry for assistance, she felt with relief. Howard hadn’t run into a trap. Before she could pull herself together, he shouted again, this time with the full strength of his lungs:
“Murder! See that no one gets away from the Maze!”
Vera’s nerves were almost attuned to the shock of the discovery. A picture of some swift and terrible act of violence crossed her mind. It must have been soon over, for she remembered that after the three cries she had heard no sound of any sort. Not twenty yards from her, it might be, a human being had been battered out of existence; and but for these cries she would have known nothing whatever.
She raised her voice again.
“Howard! I’m frightened. What’s happened?”
“One of the Shandons has been killed. I blundered into the centre, trying to get to you. There’s blood on his coat.”
He broke off for a moment, evidently gathering his breath, then again he shouted:
“Murder! Help! Here in the Maze! Murder!”
Vera held her breath, listening eagerly for some answering cry from the outer world which now seemed so peaceful and unattainable. Then in the silence, she heard the sound of a man running hard in the alleys of the Maze.
“Is that you, Howard?” she called. “I hear someone running not far from where I am.”
No sooner had she spoken than the noise of running footfalls ceased abruptly.
“Is that you, Howard?” she called again, nervously.
There came a sound of rustling and tearing, then Howard’s voice sounded across the
