With an incoherent bellow of rage and astonishment Morphew reared up out
of his chair, over-turning it. But that was all: instantaneously
something like a paralysis of consternation laid hold of him, so that he
stood with huge hands fluttering feebly and knees quaking under his
great weight, the light dimming behind the bleached flesh of his face,
jaw sagging, stunned eyes seeking the doorway.
Through this last, a froth of noise upon the uproar from below, came
sounds of scuffling and voices angry and expostulant. In the corridor a
confused movement became visible, a knot of figures fell apart, Liane
Delorme broke through and, ghastly with pallor beneath her war-paint,
strode breathlessly into the room, one strong sweep of a perfectly
modelled arm brushing aside the gibbering Theodore.
Mallison followed her closely, like a fearful child tagging at its
mother's skirts, with the slinking tread and something of the witless
look of a cowed animal peering through the sleek surface of his
comeliness. And that this look little belied his state of mind was shown
by the nervous shy he gave when Lanyard, satisfied there was nothing to
be gained by more delay, made for the door.
The corridor was choked with people, flustered waiters mixed in with
guests whom the alarm had routed out of the other private rooms, all
aimlessly milling about and questioning one another with vacant eyes and
babbling tongues. Nobody offered to stay Lanyard, on the other hand
nobody offered to get out of his way. Pagan passed him, plying busy
elbows, his habitual leer erased. Of Mrs. McFee one saw nothing.
Half-way to the head of the staircase Lanyard found the jam on the
narrow landing too dense to be penetrated other than by main strength
and ill will; and, crowded against the banisters, waited for some
general movement that might permit him to proceed.
Looking down over the handrail, he commanded a view of the first
landing, the stage of a more lively scene, as guests and employees
stampeding for the stairs were checked, hustled, and bullyragged by a
squad of police, readily to be picked out by their flat-topped blue
caps, and by a number of plain-clothes men, quite as conspicuously
badged by those weather-worn derbies lacking which self-respecting
police detectives consider themselves no sportsmen in their attitude
toward lawbreakers.
Hectoring cries of authority, plain profanity of an unimaginative
citizenry, and yammering of hysterical women manufactured a clamour that
drowned out all lesser noises till somebody near Lanyard used stentorian
lungs to suggest the roof as a possible way of escape; upon which advice
the whole body of people surged toward the third flight of stairs.
In that moment, while clinging to the banister-rail to keep from being
swept along, Lanyard heard his name shrilled in a pathetic voice, and
saw Mrs. McFee struggling in the rush, the violet eyes darkly dilate
with dismay, the mouth of a child tremulous with appeal. Immediately he
threw himself toward her. Tripped and jostled till her strength began to
fail, his arms alone saved the young woman from going down under those
panic feet. Then putting his shoulders to the press, he dragged her out
of the worst of it and into the semi-shelter of a jog in the wall, in
front of which he planted himself as a shield.
"Now we're all right," he cheerfully said. "Take it easy, and don't
worry."
"But I can't help worrying!" the small person objected, clutching the
lapels of his dress coat with importunate hands. "How can I, if I'm
going to be arrested and put in jail and brought up in a police court
with all these awful people? The shame of it! the disgrace!"
"If you'll trust to me," Lanyard suggested, "I think I can promise you
none of those calamities will happen."
"But how can you----?"
"I'm sure I know a way . . ."
As he spoke, with no warning whatsoever the house from cellar to roof
was drenched with darkness absolute.
This thing befell with fine dramatic force. Where there had been
deafening hubbub and confusion to confound the readiest, a lull of a
long moment succeeded, during which every voice was hushed and nobody
stirred. In this breathing-spell Lanyard found time to surmise what had
happened: that some creature of Morphew's, acting possibly on
inspiration but more probably in conformance with a plan preconcerted
against such emergency, had disconnected the master-switch of the
electric lighting system. . . . But Folly McFee whimpered in new fright
and caught him closer to her; and in another breath the turmoil revived
in redoubled volume.
Lanyard lifted his hands to the woman's and gently disengaged them.
"There, Mrs. McFee! don't be alarmed. They've simply shut off the lights
to give the people the police are after a chance to escape. If you will
calm yourself and have a bit of faith in me, I'll get you out of this in
a jiffy, and no harm done."
"But my wrap! I can't go without my wrap, I'd catch my death! And my
handbag, too--I left it on the table----!"
"I'll find them for you; it won't delay us a minute."
Lanyard swept the darkness roundabout with an extended hand, which
encountered nothing; then, satisfied that the landing was now
practically deserted, drew the woman out of her corner and coolly wound
an arm round her.
"I'll be better able to avoid losing you, this way," he explained. "Hope
you don't mind."
"No-o," said the small voice--"I think--I believe I rather like it."
For all that unmitigated mirk Lanyard experienced no difficulty in
finding the way back to the right door.
"Hello?" he called, pausing on its threshold. "I've got Mrs. McFee
here, safe and sound. Somebody make a light: I noticed candles on the
mantelpiece . . ."
Nothing answered him. But this he had discounted. Releasing the woman
and bidding her stop where she was, he struck a match whose flare
revealed a room deserted.