"A pleasant family party at first," he went on, in a still lower
voice; "but between ourselves, I don't think we shall be troubled
with the old gentleman's company for very long. It would be sad, of
course, if anything were to happen, but I shall do my best to console
Christine. I fancy she has one of those rare natures which will
respond to affectionate treatment."
God knows how much more of this I could have stood, but at that
instant the baize door opened and Craill re-entered the hall. He had
a bundle of newspapers under his arm, and was carrying a large tin of
paraffin and a canvas bag.
Manning relieved him of the latter, and held it up to the light.
"That will do, Craill," he observed, handing it back. "You can put
down the other things and help Mr. de Roda pack away the stones. We
shall be leaving very shortly."
He turned towards me again, brushing off a patch of mud which he had
apparently just noticed on his sleeve.
"By the way, Dryden," he added, "in the excitement of the moment I
have clean forgotten to thank you for telling me where to look for
the diamonds. It was the one point in which I was utterly at a loss.
Your late lamented uncle was always babbling about a dog's head, but
somehow or other I never connected it with the hiding-place. I
always thought he was talking about that brute Satan. It was only
when you confided to me that he had had the fireplace specially put
in that I happened to notice that ingenious little bit of carving in
the centre of the grate. Curious that I should have been so stupid,
but the best of us make mistakes at times. _Non semper arcum tendit
Apollo_, as our delightful friend Horace used to say."
He looked deliberately round the room, as though in search of
something, and then walked across to the writing-table, where there
were a couple of candle-sticks with stumps of candles in each.
He took out one of them, and, strolling back, picked up the bundle of
newspapers which Craill had deposited on the floor.
"I have devoted considerable thought towards providing you with a
fitting exit, Dryden," he remarked. "One or two very attractive
ideas have occurred to me, but I think on the whole that the best
plan will be to burn down the house. I trust that in the throes of
courtship you have not overlooked the precaution of insuring against
fire?"
His fiendish purpose had been obvious ever since he had sent Craill
for the paraffin, and if he hoped for any sign of weakness from me he
must have been singularly disappointed.
"I am afraid there will be no premium this time," I said. "You can't
expect all your murders to be equally productive."
In spite of his wonderful self-control the shot went home. I saw the
fingers of his left hand tighten sharply, while a sudden look of
surprise flashed across his face.
"So you have been making enquiries into my past history?" he observed
almost caressingly.
"Just a few," I admitted. "It was an unsavory business, but I have
managed to dig up one or two quite interesting facts. At the present
moment they are in the hands of the police."
He laughed gently. "I was doing Christine an injustice," he replied.
"You seem to have occasional gleams of intelligence after all."
We were interrupted by Craill, who, leaving de Roda and the diamonds,
lurched menacingly across the room.
"You 'eard wot 'e said, boss! Shove 'im through it, quick, and let's
be off. We got to fetch the girl an'----"
"Don't upset yourself, Craill," came the imperturbable answer. "We
shall have plenty of time to carry out our original programme."
He took another leisurely inspection of the room, and then, walking
across to the opposite corner, dropped the newspapers in a tumbled
heap alongside the grandfather clock.
"You can pull up those two tables," he added, "and empty out the log
basket against the wall. I don't think we shall have much trouble in
starting a really satisfactory bonfire. That's the best of these old
panelled houses: they burn beautifully when they once catch alight."
With an evil grin upon his face, Craill set about the business, while
de Roda, clutching the bag of diamonds in his trembling hands, stared
vacantly at all three of us.
As soon as his instructions had been obeyed Manning picked up the
paraffin. Taking out the cork, he poured half the contents of the
can on to the wood, and splashed the remainder over the two tables
and the wall. Then, bending forward, he placed the stump of candle
in the middle of the pile of newspapers.
"You see the idea, Dryden?" he remarked, turning to me. "Something
after the principle of a delayed fuse. Bar accidents, it will take
the candle about ten minutes to burn down. That will afford you a
nice comfortable opportunity to say your prayers. It will also give
us plenty of time to call for Christine and be well on our way down
the estuary before anyone has grasped the important fact that you are
in need of assistance."
He struck a match, and, having carefully ignited the wick, stepped
back to contemplate the result.
"For Gawd's sake 'urry up, boss," repeated Craill, more insistently
than ever. "There ain't no sense in messin' abaht 'ere--not now
we've got the stuff."
"You two can start now," replied Manning, "I shall catch you up
before you reach the landing-stage."
Craill made a movement as if to take the diamonds from de Roda, but
with a snarl, almost like that of a wild animal, the latter started
away.
Manning laughed again. "Mr. de Roda will carry the stones, Craill,"
he said. "They will be quite safe in his charge."
Still hugging the bag fiercely in his arms, de Roda followed his
companion to the hall door, and without any further remark from
either of them the two men passed out into the darkness.
Directly they had gone Manning sauntered up to me. "I think we had
better gag you, Dryden," he said thoughtfully. "I want to leave the
window open so as to ensure a good draught, and it's just possible
that somebody might hear you squealing."
Twisting his handkerchief into the shape of a bandage, he stepped up
on to the staircase behind me, and, drawing the broad part tightly
across my mouth, knotted the ends together at the back of my head.
Then, coming round in front of me again, he took a last smiling
survey of his handiwork.
"Good-bye, my friend," he drawled slowly. "I am afraid you are in
for a rather uncomfortable time, but you must try to regard your
suffering as a kind of disguised blessing. If there is any truth in
what the church teaches us, you will probably find it an excellent
preparation for the next world."
He made me a low mocking bow, and then with a final glance at the
candle walked quickly across to the doorway and strode out into the
garden after his two companions.