"I have a better plan for dealing with Mr. Dryden, Craill," he
remarked. "Do you think you can carry him to the house?"
The other made no answer, but, stooping down and gripping me round
the waist, hoisted me over his shoulder as though I had been a sack
of flour. Considering that I turn the scale at fourteen stone, the
fellow's strength must have been prodigious.
Manning opened the gate for us, and we passed out on to the lawn.
Every step Craill took gave me a fresh thrill of pain, but the
physical suffering I felt was nothing to the agony of rage and
mortification that was tearing at my heart. The devilish ingenuity
by which I had been trapped only added to my torture, for since the
contents of Christine's letter were known to my captors, it was only
too probable that her position was as dangerous as my own.
As we reached the verandah Manning's voice once more broke the
silence.
"You had better put our friend down for a moment," he said. "We
shall have to borrow his key to get into the house."
With a heave of his back Craill let me fall heavily on the stonework,
and moving up to where I was lying Manning ran his hand quickly
through my pockets.
"I've got it," he announced. Then, turning towards the silent figure
on his right, he added almost mockingly, "Quite a dramatic moment,
isn't it, de Roda?"
I heard the sharp click of the lock, and almost simultaneously a
flood of light streamed out through the doorway.
With a strange gasping sob de Roda thrust his companion aside, and,
trampling on my foot as he passed, stumbled blindly ahead of us into
the hall.
Manning shrugged his shoulders. "You must make allowances for the
old gentleman, Dryden," he said. "He has been very hardly treated,
and I'm afraid it's affected his manners."
He stepped forward, laughing quietly to himself, and, without waiting
for further orders, Craill dragged me roughly in after him and closed
the door behind us.
"I think that end of the room will be a good place for our host,"
observed Manning, pointing towards the staircase. "You can tie him
up comfortably there, and then he will be able to get a nice
uninterrupted view of our researches."
Powerless to resist; I was hauled to my feet and lashed securely with
my back to the banisters--a proceeding which gave me such pain in my
injured shoulder that I had all my work cut out to remain silent.
With a cruel smile upon his lips Manning stood watching the
operation. One side of his face was still bruised and swelled almost
out of recognition, and even in the midst of my own suffering the
sight filled me with fierce and exulting pleasure.
"You are not looking quite at your best, Manning," I remarked, "I am
afraid you must have had another sleepless night."
"Shall I give 'im a wipe across the mouth?" growled Craill. "That'll
stop his jaw."
Manning silenced him with a gesture.
"I don't think I shall be very much in your debt by the time I have
finished with you, Dryden," he replied pleasantly.
A queer exclamation from de Roda, who was crouching in front of the
fireplace, broke in suddenly upon our conversation.
"You were right," he cried hoarsely, "you were right, doctor! It is
here! I see it myself."
He pointed with trembling fingers towards a small ornamental knob in
the centre of the grate, which I had noticed on several occasions
bore a rough resemblance to a bull-dog's head.
Manning glanced round unconcernedly, and then turned back to me.
"You must excuse me for a moment," he said. "Mr. de Roda is
naturally impatient."
He walked across to the hearth, and the gaunt, huddled figure of the
other moved aside to make room for him.
"Now we shall see," he remarked. "It will be very disappointing if I
am wrong after all."
He caught the knob in both hands, and, bending forwards, gave it a
sharp wrench. Instantly, and without the least noise, the whole
front of one of the side pillars swung open like a door, exposing a
high narrow cavity lined with brick.
In a second de Roda had flung himself on his knees and was groping in
the aperture.
"They are here!" he screamed wildly. "My God, they are here!"
Sobbing with excitement, he began to drag out handful after handful
of rough uncut stones, which rolled about the floor as he dropped
them in his frantic haste.
Manning stood looking down on him as though he were regarding the
antics of a child.
"Don't get too excited," he said soothingly. "You will only make
yourself ill if you do." He beckoned to Craill. With staring eyes
fixed upon the treasure, the latter shambled across the room. "Go
into the kitchen," he added, "and see if you can find something to
put them in. There's pretty sure to be a bag or basket about, and I
don't suppose Mr. Dryden will object to giving us the loan of it."
Craill turned obediently towards the baize door, but he was checked
by another gesture.
"I shall also want some paraffin oil," continued Manning in the same
dispassionate tone. "Let me have all you can find, and if you come
across any old newspapers bring them as well."
He glanced once more at de Roda, who was gloating over the diamonds
and babbling to himself, then with his hands in his side pockets he
strolled back to where I was pinioned.
"And now, Mr. John Dryden," he said, "I have time to attend to you."
For a moment we stood face to face, his china blue eyes fixed upon
mine with a kind of pitiless satisfaction. I felt sure that I was
very close to death. Even though Bobby and Campbell arrived in the
course of the next few minutes, it would make no difference to my own
fate. Manning would certainly kill me if it were his last act on
earth, and in the absolute conviction that whatever happened I was a
doomed man, a curious and almost detached calm seemed to find its way
into my heart.