“Lisbeth? Where is Lisbeth?” Lady Beltham asked sharply.
At the same moment she appeared, her face distorted with fright.
“Oh, Lady Beltham, it’s dreadful! There’s a man, a burglar in the garden! And Walter is throttling him! They are fighting dreadfully! They’ll kill one another!”
Silbertown, the majordomo, came rushing in just then. Seeing the three girls in their nightdresses he made as if to draw back, but Lady Beltham called him in and demanded explanations.
“We had just finished our rounds,” he answered breathlessly, “when we caught sight of a man hiding in the shadows, a thief probably. When we shouted to him he ran away, but we ran after him and seized him; he resisted and there was a fight. But we have got him and the police will take him away in a few minutes.”
Lady Beltham listened, with jaw set and hands clenched.
“A thief?” she said, controlling her emotion. “How do you know he is a thief?”
“Well,” stammered the majordomo, “he is very poorly dressed, and besides, what was he doing in the garden?”
Lady Beltham was recovering her calm.
“What excuse did he give for being there?” she asked coldly.
“We didn’t give him time to invent one,” said the majordomo. “We collared him almost as soon as we saw him. And you know, madame, how tremendously powerful Walter is: Walter gave him all he deserved!” and the majordomo clenched his fists and made an expressive exhibition of the porter’s reception of the stranger.
Lisbeth was still overcome by what she had seen.
“Oh, the blood!” she muttered hysterically; “it was streaming!”
Lady Beltham spoke angrily to the majordomo.
“I hate brutality: is the man seriously hurt? I hope not. You ought to have questioned him before assaulting him. No one in my house has a right to use violence. ‘Whoso smites with the sword shall perish by the sword’!”
The majordomo heard her in silent astonishment: it was not at all what he expected to be told, in view of all the circumstances.
Lady Beltham went on more gently:
“I suppose I shall have to apologise to this man for your wrong and thoughtless behaviour.”
“Apologise?” exclaimed Silbertown in amazement. “Surely your ladyship will not do that?”
“One must not shrink from humiliation when one has been in the wrong,” said Lady Beltham, in the pulpit manner she affected. “Tell Walter to come to me.”
A few minutes later the porter, a muscular giant of a man, came into the room and made a clumsy bow.
“How was it possible for anyone to get into the house at this time of night?” his mistress enquired coldly.
Walter dropped his eyes and twisted his cap nervously.
“I hope your ladyship will forgive me. I caught the fellow, and as he was struggling I hit him. Then two of the footmen came, and they are looking after him in the kitchen.”
“Has he given any explanation of his presence here since you assaulted him—at which I am very angry?” said Lady Beltham.
“He hasn’t said anything; at least—”
“Well?”
“I don’t like to tell you.”
“Please do like!” said Lady Beltham irritably.
“Well,” Walter replied, overcoming his nervousness with an effort, “he says your ladyship is well known for your charity to everybody, and—he wants to see you.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“I will see him,” said Lady Beltham at last, in a half-stifled voice.
“Will your ladyship allow me to point out the danger of doing any such thing?” Silbertown exclaimed. “Very likely the man is a lunatic! Or it may be a trick: Lord Beltham was murdered, and perhaps—”
Lady Beltham looked intently at the majordomo, seemingly trying to read his thoughts. Then she answered slowly:
“I will see him. I will be more pitiful than you,” and as the majordomo and the porter made a gesture of futile protest, she added peremptorily: “I have given my orders: kindly obey.”
When the two men had reluctantly left the room, Lady Beltham turned to the three girls.
“You had better leave me, darlings,” she said, kindly but firmly. “Run away: excitement is bad for you. Go back to bed. No, I assure you I shall be in no danger whatever,” and for a few minutes she was left alone.
“Speak,” said Lady Beltham in a toneless voice.
The majordomo and the porter had led in, and placed before her, a man with unkempt hair and ragged beard; he was dressed entirely in black, and his face was tired and haggard. Lady Beltham, ghastly pale, was leaning for support against the back of an armchair. The man did not raise his eyes to her.
“I will not speak unless we are alone,” he answered dully.
“Alone?” said Lady Beltham, fighting down her emotion. “Then it is something serious you have to tell me?”
“If you know anything of people in misfortune, Madame,” the man answered gently, “you know that they do not like to humiliate themselves before—before those who cannot understand,” and he nodded towards the majordomo and the porter.
“I do know something of misfortune,” Lady Beltham replied, in firmer tones; “and I will hear you alone.” She looked at her two servants. “Leave us, please.”
The majordomo started.
“Leave you alone with him? It’s madness!” and as Lady Beltham merely looked at him in haughty surprise, he began to withdraw in confusion, but still protesting. “It’s—it’s—Your ladyship has no idea what this fellow wants: do please—”
But Lady Beltham curtly cut him short.
“That is enough!”
A heavy velvet curtain fell over the closing door, and in the room, that was dimly lighted by a small electric lamp, Lady Beltham was alone with the strange individual to whom she had so readily, so oddly, consented to accord a private interview. She followed her servants to the door and locked it after them. Then with a sudden movement she sprang towards the man, who was standing motionless in the middle of the room following her with his eyes, and flung herself into his arms.
“Oh, Gurn, my darling, my darling!” she cried. “I love you! I love you, darling!” She looked up at him and saw blood upon his forehead. “Good God! The
