A moment later we entered the antechamber.
The door was as we had left it; but the hammers and chisels were gone, and the window was shut.
With a little manipulation I had the upper bolt free and wheedled it clear of the jamb. The lower, however, resisted, and Mansel, who was down on his knees, was able neither to turn it nor thrust it back.
At length he rose to his feet.
“Are the ropes there, Chandos?”
I stepped to the window, but the ropes were gone.
When I told him, he frowned.
Then he wedged the door, so that it could not be opened from the opposite side, and rose to his feet.
“Come,” he said, turning. “We must try the other end of the suite.”
So we came back to the Closet and, passing through the Queen’s rooms, entered the other antechamber which the bookseller’s guide had shown us that we might expect.
There was now before us a door like that we had left, which gave, no doubt, into the other “gallery of stone.”
And this door also was fast.
I confess that here the sweat ran over my face.
To be within hail of freedom, to have the prison to ourselves, to have come so far, only to be prevented, as rabbits left in a hutch, was almost more than I could bear.
Mansel took a wedge from his pocket and thrust it under the door. Then he led us back to the Closet and down the winding stair.
“Wait here,” he said. “It’s no good our all getting wet. I’m going through the door at the head of the terrace steps. That should be open, all right. And then, if I can, I’ll draw that blasted bolt.”
With that, he was gone.
I clapped my ear to the keyhole, and Adèle’s hand stole into mine. I remember thinking that she was seeking comfort, but now I know that she would have comforted me. I was trembling so much that I could not keep my head steady against the wood.
Then I heard the sound which I dreaded, and trembled no more.
I heard Mansel go by with a rush, to try the opposite door.
He was back in an instant.
As I helped him out of the channel—
“I should have kept a chisel,” he said. “But, chisel or no, we must try that bolt again.”
Adèle laid a hand on his arm.
“You’ll die of cold, dear,” she said. “Have you dry things?”
“We mustn’t wait, my lady. I—”
“I won’t stir from here,” said Adèle, “until you’ve changed.”
Mansel smiled and was gone.
There were dry clothes in the Closet, for Hanbury had had the foresight to send us two changes apiece.
Adèle had me by the coat.
“Oh, why did you stay?” she breathed. “If Rose Noble gets him, he’ll break him by eighths of an inch. I never knew what hate was, till I heard that terrible man. And he’s got it in for Jonah from bottom to top. I’m nothing—a lever at most … one of the levers of the rack. It’s only the money that can save him. Remember that. Dying men can’t sign cheques. But if ever the cheque is signed. … How much is he asking?”
“Five hundred thousand,” said I.
I felt her fingers tighten upon my coat.
“He’d take a hundred thousand—with Jonah thrown in. I’ve heard him say so—not once, but fifty times. I tell you—”
“Chandos,” said Mansel from the stairway, “pull in that rope. Cut a length of a hundred yards. If we can’t shift that bolt …”
What else he said I never knew, for the moment I handled the cord, I knew that it had been severed a few feet away.
I think I must have exclaimed, for Mansel called sharply to know what the matter might be.
“It’s cut already,” said I, and, with that, I pulled in what was left and proved my words.
With his back to Adèle, Mansel looked me full in the eyes.
“I was right—just now,” he said quietly. “I ought to have led out Clubs.” Then he turned to Adèle. “Come, my lady,” he said, “and we’ll have another whack at that door.”
“Tell me, Jonah,” said Adèle.
“My dear,” said Mansel, “Rose Noble’s a careful man. He locks the door before the horse is stolen, but he takes the precaution of locking it afterwards, too. Never mind. We’ll get out somehow.”
When we entered the Closet, he picked up the bottle of brandy and poured some into a glass.
“The stirrup cup,” he said, smiling, and gave the glass to Adèle.
Then he and I drank quickly.
A moment later we were crossing the Bedchamber’s floor.
As we entered the Dining-room—
“That’ll do,” said Rose Noble.
There was nothing to be said or done.
The fellow was sitting in a chair at the head of the table, with his elbows upon the board and a pistol in either hand.
Never before or since have I felt so far out of my depth.
A moment before, we had had the suite to ourselves: the entrance doors had been wedged and as good as barred: no sound of any sort had come to our vigilant ears. Yet our movements had been closely observed, our intentions had been accurately gauged, and our enemy had been able to snare us with the effortless ease of a nurse outwitting a child.
“Keep your hands up,” said Rose Noble, “and come and sit down—you two twopenny squirts to right and left, and the goods facing me. Move.”
Slowly we did as he said.
“Now put your palms on the table.” Again we obeyed.
“And if anyone wants to die, they’ve only to move a hand.”
Desperately I tried to marshal my wits, for if ever a clear head was needed to save the game, it was needed now; but my brain was ever wayward, and I remember thinking how strange a picture we made and how much astonished King Maximilian would have been, could he have viewed such a company gracing his private board.
Before me Mansel sat easily, leaning back in his chair. His hair was wet and rumpled, and he wore no collar or tie. His light, tweed coat, turned up about
