“A moment’s reflection convinced me that this was so.”
“In the first place, to use his own words, ‘if ever it got to a dogfight, the fellow that had this thicket was bound to win’: in the second, the dogfight was coming—there was any amount to suggest that the servants were in: the castle would soon be unhealthy, because of the doctor’s friends; and, then, the cars for the taking and Carson as well: finally, he knew I should seek you, and the very best place in which to hold you prisoner was, therefore, the wood.
“There was not a moment to lose. We couldn’t go down the cliff, for we hadn’t sufficient rope, and our only chance was to reach the wood by the spur not only before Rose Noble, but before he was in a position to see us go.
“I left George and Rowley with Adèle, who was now as safe as a house, and Bell and I slid down from the roof to the spur. The ‘doctor,’ a gallant old fellow, drew up the rope behind us and then slipped back to the tower. Believe me, I ran for this wood, with my heart in my mouth. …
“When we made the drive, I sent Bell off for Carson and lay in wait. Almost at once you appeared. I watched you come out of the window and start for the wood, but, when I felt for my pistol, it wasn’t there. …
“I’d given it back to Bell, before I went down the rope, and in the rush I’d forgotten to ask for it back.
“Well, there was nothing to be done. I retired, marked you to cover and then went off to pick up Carson and Bell. I’m afraid the delay cost you dear, for I had to be careful to meet them a long way back and, of course, we had to come up without snapping a twig. But I think, perhaps, after all, it was better so, for the sprint had unsteadied my hand, and, if I had missed or anything else had slipped, you were a pretty good hostage and I was but one to three.
“The rest you know.” He rose to his feet and stretched luxuriously. “And now, if you feel like moving, we’ll get into one of the cars and go back to Adèle. Carson and Bell are digging a certain grave, and I think we’ll leave them to it—and him to them. To tell you the truth, I don’t want to see him again. The sight of him rouses feelings that one shouldn’t have against the dead. In his way, he was a great man, and, if he’d had the help I’ve had, he’d have wiped me off the map. He hadn’t a servant worth having—they let him down right and left: he practically stood alone: and, even so, it took six of us all we knew to bring him down.”
It is not for me to review that valediction: I heard it in silence, and in silence I leave it now. The quarrel was not mine, but Mansel’s, and I will not pick over the blossoms he chose to lay upon the grave.
Without a word, we made our way to the cars, and, taking the first, drove slowly out of the drive and down to the castle gate.
Then Mansel climbed in by the window that had the loose bar, and two minutes later he swung the great leaf open and I drove in.
When I was in the courtyard, I stopped and sounded the horn. Before its echoes had died, a casement of the oratory was opened, and Hanbury put out his head.
“All over,” said Mansel simply. “Open the doors.”
He was on his way to the guardroom, before I was out of the car, with Tester scrambling before him, agog to prove the promise of so unusual a field.
I followed leisurely, still thinking on the death of Rose Noble and of all that had passed, and trying to believe that the clock in the dashboard of the Rolls was telling the truth when it said that the hour was no more than half-past nine.
So I came to the guardroom and down the winding stair.
The passage door was open, and Mansel was standing in the passage, fronting Adèle. His back was towards me, but I saw that his head was bowed and he had her hand to his lips. The back of her other hand was across her eyes.
And between them and me crouched Casemate framed in the passage doorway, pistol in hand.
I let out a cry that might have been heard in Lass, but, as I did so, he fired, and I saw Mansel stagger a little and then sink down on his knees.
Before Casemate could turn, I had knocked him flat on his face and was kneeling upon his back. Then I took my knife and drove it into his spine.
But the mischief was done.
Mansel was still alive, but the bullet had entered his stomach, and there was death in his face.
IX
Full Measure
I shall never forgive myself for forgetting that Casemate was still at large. I had thought of him twice since my rescue—once as I lay by the brook, awaiting Mansel’s return, and again whilst Mansel was gone to open the castle gate: and each time, before he was back, I had let some other matter thrust Casemate out of my mind.
I have no excuse to offer. It was a monstrous negligence, for which I
