For a moment we lay as we had fallen, straining our ears: then Mansel got to his feet and lighted the torch.
“You two all right?” he said.
We told him “yes.”
“Then quick,” says he, “for, by thunder, we’ve rung the bell.”
With that, he set Hanbury to watch the Dining-room door and hold the torch, while I took the stoutest chisel and laid its edge where the lock met the wood of the door.
“You strike,” said Mansel, taking it out of my hand.
I picked up and swung a hammer with all my might. …
I cannot attempt to tell the noise we made.
Perhaps our reluctance to make any noise at all and the infinite care we had taken to smother all sound magnified for us this sudden breach of silence: certainly the hour, the emptiness of the apartments and the style and proportions of the building made so many sounding-boards. Be that as it may, had the castle been full of troops and these been suddenly summoned by trumpet and tuck of drum I do not think the uproar could have won to our ears.
It took us, I suppose, two minutes to reduce that lock.
As Mansel wrenched it away, an iron fillet, into which its tongues were protruding, came also. This fillet was a false jamb, that ran the whole length of the door and was laid upon stone. Now that it was displaced, we could see that the door was bolted, top and bottom, upon the opposite side. The bolts were shot into the stone, but, the fillet gone, we could reach them and, with the slightest manipulation, could draw them clear of their sockets and open the door.
I put up a hand, but Mansel caught my arm. Someone was pounding upon the other side of the door.
Together we stared at the oak.
Then came Adèle’s clear voice.
“Is that you Jonah?”
“Yes, dear,” said Mansel. “One moment, and—”
“No, no,” cried Adèle. “Stop. Stay where you are. Rose Noble’s here by my side. And he says if you open that door you’ll lose your match.”
VI
The Love of a Lady
Never, I suppose were hopes lifted so high one moment and dashed so low the next.
Indeed, I was so much confounded by the sudden overthrow of our fortune that I stood staring at the door, as a clown at a strange fish, and when I turned to Hanbury, who had come across to our side, he was wearing the blank expression of a player of chess who, having but two moves to make to win his match, suddenly perceives that his opponent has but one.
And this shows how fine was the stuff of which Mansel was made, for, though our dismay was nothing to the bitterness which must have been his, beyond raising his eyebrows he gave no manner of sign that he was put out, and, what was far more, he had a plan in an instant to save the game.
Before he could answer Adèle, we heard the clatter of footsteps and, then, Rose Noble’s deep voice speaking Casemate and Bunch by name.
Under cover of this distraction, Mansel caught us each by an arm.
“Time to be gone,” he whispered. “We’ve shot our bolt. Leave everything and clear out. I’m going to stay. Food and dry clothes to me by the waterfall cord. And paper and pencil. So long.”
Before we could speak, he had returned to the door.
“My dear Adèle,” he said, “I’m delighted to hear your voice.”
“Same here,” said Adèle, cheerfully.
Rose Noble laughed.
“ ‘Journeys end in lovers meeting,’ ” he said.
“How’s Boy?” said Adèle.
“None too bad,” said Mansel. “A bit hot and bothered you know, till we’d run you to earth: but that was natural. His leg’s just splendid.”
“How much does he know?” said Rose Noble.
That was as much as I heard, for Hanbury was at the window, and I had something to say before he was gone.
“I stay with Mansel,” I said. “Give me your pistol and torch.”
“I can’t leave you here,” said George.
“Quick,” said I. “We’ll argue another time.”
With that, I put my hands in his pockets and helped myself. There was a bunch of wedges we had not used. These I took, and his torch. He gave me his pistol unwillingly enough. Then he shook his head and went up the rope.
High words were flying as I swung myself into the rain. Rose Noble was clearly angry, and I heard Adèle’s scornful laugh. …
As soon as my feet touched the terrace, I made my way to the water and scrambled under the door. I had a vile wet passage, but I managed to save both pistols and Hanbury’s torch. The archway was dank and draughty, so I lost no time in finding the little staircase that served the trapdoor and, when I had found it, in climbing as high as I could. Here I was out of the wind and might have been snug; but my clothes were wringing wet and that made the stone seem cold.
I was quite sure that this was the spot at which Mansel proposed to be hid—for that, of course, was his plan. He intended Rose Noble to think that he had withdrawn, and, presently taking the monster off his guard, to strike again.
And here I may say that I found his plan very good. To release Adèle might be beyond our power, but our luck would be out indeed, if we could not kill Rose Noble before two days were gone by, and his death, as I have said, would break the enemy’s back.
What Mansel would say, when he found me, I could not tell. He did not like disobedience: but for one man to stay alone in such an enemy’s camp seemed to me out of reason, and I hoped very much that he would share my view.
I had not long to wait.
A sudden quickening of the rustle the water made told me
