"Why don't you go out and go away?" I suggested. "There is surely
nothing to prevent you. Why do you remain here in helpless inactivity?"
"Where should I go? I haven't any money. I haven't a sou. Besides--
besides--I dare not disobey. If I did, he--he'd--he'd bring disaster--
terrible disaster, upon me!"
"I can lend you some money," I said. Then a thought struck me.
"Why not come away with me?" I exclaimed. "I will get you a room at an
hotel, see to you, provide you with money, and take care that nobody
objectionable--neither this fellow Paulton, nor anybody else--molests
you."
"Ah, Dick, if only I dared!" she exclaimed fervently, with shining eyes.
"You love me, Vera--do you not?"
"You know that I do, Dick."
"Then leave here. Who is to prevent you? Where are your father and
mother?"
She turned sharply.
"How can you ask that?" she cried, with a quick glance. I pulled myself
together on the instant. I was forgetting to be cautious.
"Wouldn't it be safe for you to appeal to them for help?" I asked
vaguely.
She paused, evidently reflecting, and I breathed more freely.
"Under the circumstances--no," she said at last, with decision. "They
must await developments. I must remain here. Listen! What was that?"
And she started in fear.
The door stood ajar. The door of the room I had been in, which opened
on to the passage, was also open. Both of us listened intently. The
sound of men's voices, somewhere in the house, became audible.
I crept out into the passage on tiptoe, walked a little distance along
it, stopped, and listened again. Yes, there were voices in the hall.
Two men were talking. At once I recognised that Sir Charles Thorold,
and the man known as Davies, were engaged in earnest conversation in low
tones. In the otherwise silent and deserted house, their words were
distinctly audible.
"We must get a doctor--we must," I heard the big fellow say deeply. "I
thought at first the fellow was asleep, then that he was drunk. The
pulse is hardly perceptible."
"But how can we?" Thorold answered. "It isn't safe. There would be
inquiries, and if he should die there would surely be an inquest, and
then--"
He dropped his voice, and I could not catch the last words. Then Davies
again spoke.
"I found this umbrella, and these gloves, on the table in his room," I
heard him say, "and there are two tea-cups on the table. Both have been
used, used within the last half-hour, I should say. The tea in them is
still warm, and the teapot is quite hot." My heart stopped its beating.
I put out an arm to support myself. A slight feeling of giddiness came
over me. I broke out into a cold perspiration, for I had left my gloves
and umbrella in the old man's room!
My mouth turned suddenly dry, as I thought of the tea I had doctored
with the drops from the flask, of which only a little was needed to send
"a strong man to sleep--for ever."
But Davies and Sir Charles were talking again, so I pulled myself
together.
"How do you account for this umbrella and the gloves?" I heard Davies
ask, and Thorold answered: "Let me have a look at them."
They were silent for some moments.
"He has had some one there, that's evident," Sir Charles said. "Who on
earth can it have been? This is an expensive umbrella, silk, and
gold-mounted, and these gloves, too, are good ones. It's extraordinary
their owner should have forgotten to take them with him."
"He may be in the house still," answered Davies. "I hope, for his own
sake, he isn't," Sir Charles said, in a hard voice. "Let us come and
have a look at poor old Taylor. We shall find the keys in his pocket,
anyway, and when we have attended to the other matter, we'll go up and
see Vera, and try to bring her to her senses with regard to Paulton.
She must do it--hang it--she _must_! I hate the thought of it, but it's
my only chance of escape from this accursed parasite!"
Voices and footsteps died away. Once more the house was silent as
death.
Truly, that deserted house was a house of mystery.