“Mansel,” I breathed. “Chandos speaking.”
“Ah, William,” said he: and that was all.
He sat down on the step below mine and put his head in his hands.
After a little he spoke.
“I didn’t dare stay. Rose Noble was bound to exploit a chance like that. You see, without an audience there’s no point in doing her harm: but with me, so to speak, looking on. … He struck her, Chandos. And, because she wouldn’t cry out, he struck her again. … And so it seemed best to go. … Oh, my God,” he cried suddenly, “there are times when I’d take your offer and buy her out.”
“It’s always open,” I said.
“I know,” he said, “I know.”
For a long time we sat in silence. Then he gave a short sigh.
“Drink some of this,” he whispered, and put a flask into my hand.
It was brandy and did us both good, for our state of mind and of body was wretched enough.
Presently he spoke again.
“No,” he said. “No. What’s the good of buying a broken heart? We’ve got to beat Rose Noble: there’s no other way. But it’s a dreadful business to have to go so slow.”
That was a true saying.
Indeed, the next sixteen hours were the worst I have ever spent. I can never remember them without a shudder, and to our restless senses they seemed more like sixteen days. Without cause we dared not emerge: no cause presented itself. The rain fell down without ceasing, and, though we took it in turns to watch from the archway, no one appeared in the courtyard, or, so far as I know, visited the terrace upon the opposite side. Command the terrace we could not, unless we lay down in the channel below the door: and that was dangerous, for the noise which the water made embarrassed the ear, and we might well have been noticed before we had time to withdraw. There was, however, the keyhole of the great door itself, and, whilst we were listening there, I do not think one could have passed without our hearing his steps.
We saw the dawn come in and the day draw to its close: we heard the drip of the rain and the sigh of the wind: and that was all.
One thing only we decided, for you cannot make bricks without straw, and we had no data with which to make any plan. We determined that, when night had fallen and we dared pull up the rope, we would enter the King’s Closet and eat and rest in such comfort as that room could give. The risk of discovery was small, and, if we could not take shelter which would allow us to sleep, we should, we knew, be unfitted to strike when the moment came. I do not mean that when the day was over we had no resistance left, for we were both very strong and had suffered adversity far more exacting than this; but we knew that to rob Rose Noble the eye must be clear, the hand unearthly swift and all the senses at the very top of their pitch or, as the saying is, a man might as well go home.
At last the daylight faded, and the rain ceased.
When it was quite dark, we laid hold of the rope in the channel and took the strain. To our delight it was loaded, so, bidding me stay where I was and haul it in, Mansel crawled under the door and made for the balustrade beneath which the waterfall leapt.
At last I felt a check, and, very soon after, a package done up in oiled silk was thrust under the door.
Two minutes later we were in the King’s Closet, with good, oak boards beneath us and wedges under the doors.
As well as changes of clothing, Hanbury had sent us a blanket sewn into the shape of a bag: this was just what we needed and, with the square of carpet, promised a good night’s rest.
But first there was work to be done.
There was food enough for five, and, what was better still, a bottle of excellent brandy by way of drink.
We changed and made our meal by the shaded light of a torch, for to do such things in the dark without making a sound required more time and care than we were prepared to expend: and, when we had done, Mansel wrote out the first message which we were to send to George:
George.
Send up Adèle’s dressing-case.
Is there any reason why we should not descend by this rope at any time?
Where is the cover nearest to the foot of the cliff and what shape does it take?
I wished to go out this time, but Mansel would not consent. Whilst, therefore, I let down the message, he changed again into his dripping clothes, and, as soon as I took the strain, he returned to the balustrade. …
Hanbury’s answer was clear.
No reason at all. We have lengthened the rope, so that it reaches the ground. By day the last forty feet will be concealed in a bush. No one could ever climb up without help from above.
Beechwoods two furlongs northeast. Unless you direct otherwise, one car will be always concealed within sound of the drive, and one at the foot of this cliff from nightfall till dawn.
As soon as he had changed, Mansel wrote out his reply.
Good. Visit the beechwoods twice daily at ten and three. Don’t wait any longer tonight. Send Carson and another to Poganec with the enclosed note instead.
The note was addressed to Captain Pleydell and was very short.
I have spoken with Adèle. She is very cheerful and seems to be in excellent health.
These dispatches I sent alone, and, when they were gone, we finally closed the trapdoor and getting into our blanket, lay down on the carpet to sleep.
Whether Mansel rested I know not, but I slept like the dead. The Closet
