And then I was all dripping wet and down on my knees, and Mansel lay huddled before me with one leg beneath the other and a loose look about his neck.
I got my arm under his shoulders and raised him up, but his head rolled over sideways and, though I tried to prop it, it would not stay.
I cried out at that, but maybe I had shouted before, for I saw Rose Noble coming, with Punter and Bunch. They seemed to come down in a wave—down the steps from a door in the wall.
As they reached the terrace, a slim figure flashed in their wake. I watched it outstrip the three men … thrust them aside. …
Then Adèle was down beside me and sitting back on her heels, with agony in her eyes and Mansel’s head in her lap.
VIII
Out of Sight, Out of Mind
The shutting of a door roused me, and I sat up to find myself alone.
The mountaintops before me were alight with sunshine, and in the huge void which lay between them and the terrace a great bird was sailing and wheeling, as an aeroplane at play.
For a moment I watched it lazily. Then I remembered with a shock the plan we had laid and how perfectly it had worked and how, in the moment of triumph, Adèle had brought it to nought.
In a flash I was on my feet, and trying to think what to do.
I had been left in a faint, not so much as bound. My pistol had been taken, but not my knife. It was clear that I was regarded as safe under lock and key.
At this my heart leaped up, for, of course, I could leave by the suite whenever I pleased: the only question was how to turn to account this unsuspected freedom.
In view of the turn events had taken, Mansel was sure to continue his pretence of a broken back: finding their purpose frustrated, George and the servants were probably lying concealed in the southeast tower: I was at liberty, and the enemy was clean off his guard. If we had shot at a pigeon, we had killed something more than a crow. We had made notable progress, and, before the day was over. …
And there I remembered Casemate, and my dreams began to settle, as a house that is built upon sand.
Casemate’s failure to return would ruin everything.
Quite apart from the finding of him senseless, which might any moment take place, the instant Rose Noble learned that Casemate was not up to time, his ever-smouldering suspicion would burst into flame. He would see in a twinkling that here was our handiwork, and, with Mansel under his hand, would turn the tables upon us before we could think.
With a hammering heart, I ran to the channel and fought my way under the door. If I could do nothing else, at least I could get hold of Casemate and carry him out of sight. And, in any event, I was plainly better at large than cooped, like a dog, on the terrace, at the mercy of any whim that came into the enemy’s head.
A moment later I was standing in the “gallery of stone.” …
Casemate lay as we had left him, flat on his back.
To my surprise, he was neither gagged nor bound: then I remembered that we had never told George to tie him up. And I had no cord. …
I carried him out of the guard room and along a passage by which we had come from the porch. There I found a bedroom that had not been used. I was preparing to thrust him under the bed and was wondering what fool had coined the saying “Out of sight, out of mind,” and whether, had he known Rose Noble, the adage would not have been revised, when another proverb came thrusting into my mind.
A living dog, saith The Preacher, is better than a dead lion.
And that made me think of the fable of the ass in the lion’s skin.
And out of the two came wisdom, if you can call it such.
Richard William Chandos, alive and in Casemate’s clothes, would be infinitely better than Casemate as good as dead. Casemate could not return: but Chandos in Casemate’s clothes could be seen in the porch. …
And here another idea leaped into my mind.
Casemate had been uneasy—had said so in so many words. “I don’t like the ⸻ job.” Punter had done his utmost to lay his fears, but the other would not be comforted, rebutting each effort of Punter’s with some unpleasant truth. More, Casemate clearly believed that Jute had seen breakers ahead and had left the ship. “And I don’t blame him.” Was it incredible, then, that Casemate should follow Jute’s lead? Open the castle gate, which he had to pass, slip out and up to the wood and so wash his hands of a business which he very plainly wished he never had touched? Even if he were not seen going, the open gate would account for his failure to reappear.
In less than three minutes Casemate was under the bed, and I was clad in his suit. This was none too clean and something tight; but I liked it better than his hat, which fitted me very well.
Now, though in this time much had happened, it was barely a quarter of an hour since Casemate had parted from Punter at the head of the stair. I had, therefore, a very good hope of suggesting that Casemate had flitted before he was due to return: but our hopes had so often foundered that, for all my haste, I stole, like a thief, from the bedroom, and went with my chin on my shoulder until the passage gave way to a flight of stairs.
So I came to the porch.
The courtyard was empty, and so,
