"Christine, my darling," I whispered, "how in heaven's name did you
get here?"
"I swam over from the shore," she answered breathlessly. "I landed
on the saltings just opposite the garden."
"You did _what_?" I exclaimed. I stared at her in amazement. "You
swam in the dark across the estuary?"
She nodded.
"There was no other way of reaching the island. Marie had promised
to send you a message by Jimmy, but instead of keeping her word she
must have given it to Dr. Manning. He came to my room and told me
what he was going to do. I made up my mind then that as soon as they
started I would try to follow them. I got out through the window and
I managed to climb down by the creeper. I thought the tide would be
too strong for me, but I didn't care either way. If I wasn't in time
to help you, I just wanted to be drowned."
She stopped, and her eyes fell upon an old-fashioned American bowie
knife which was hanging from the wall at the head of the stairs.
With a quick movement she stepped forward, and, unhooking it from the
nail, began to saw away feverishly at the ropes which fastened me to
the banisters.
She had just cut through the first strand when I suddenly realised
that at any moment Manning might return.
"Shut the door before you do anything else," I explained. "Lock it
and bolt it top and bottom. If they guess where you are----"
I had no need to finish, for Christine hurried off at once, and,
forgetting my injured shoulder in the excitement of the moment, I
gave an impatient tug at the nearly severed cord. I was rewarded by
such a stab of pain that before I could stop it an involuntary grunt
broke from my lips.
"What is it? What's the matter? You are hurt after all!"
With a face whiter than ever, and her eyes full of concern, Christine
had hastened to where I was standing.
"It's nothing much," I said. "I blundered over a bit of wire they'd
stretched across the path and I rather think I've cracked my
collar-bone. It will be all right as soon as I've tied it up."
She knelt down beside me, and with trembling fingers set about the
task of freeing my wrists. I heard her give a sudden gasp of horror
as she saw the state they were in.
"Oh, the brutes!" she sobbed. "The utter brutes! How can God allow
such people as Manning to exist?"
"He won't allow it much longer," I replied grimly.
The cut ends of the rope pattered down on to the floor, and, shaking
myself loose, I stepped forward, a free man. Christine dropped the
knife and rose unsteadily to her feet. The next moment I was
crushing her soft wet body in my uninjured arm, and pressing kisses
upon her bare neck and shoulders.
"My own dear love!" I whispered. "I must have been mad ever to let
you go."
I strained her to me, kissing her again and again, until the little
round oilskin cap that she was wearing slipped off her head, and her
slender beauty was almost hidden by a rippling torrent of dark brown
hair.
At last a faint recollection of our rather precarious position began
to intrude itself into my mind.
"I hate to stop kissing you, Christine," I said, "but would you mind
helping me load my gun? I don't believe I can manage it with one
hand."
She released herself from my embrace, and stood there like some
lovely sea Naiad, her breast rising and falling and her lips slightly
parted.
"Where is it--where do you keep it?" she asked.
I nodded towards a leather case which was standing up on end in the
opposite corner.
"That's it," I said. "Do you think you can put it together and shove
in a couple of cartridges? I want to be ready for Manning in case he
comes back."
She started towards it, and for the first time the gaping aperture in
the fireplace suddenly attracted her attention.
"Yes," I said, "they got the diamonds all right. Your uncle went off
hugging them in a bag. I should feel quite pleased about it if I
only thought he would be allowed to keep them."
Christine stepped forward to the case, and, laying it on the floor,
began to unfasten the straps. In spite of her agitation there was a
promptness and efficiency about all her proceedings which filled me
with admiration.
"Why were you alone here?" she asked, as she snapped the barrels into
their place. "Has anything happened to your naval friend?"
"Something must have happened to him," I replied, "but goodness knows
what. He and Campbell, the detective, ought to have been back by
eight-thirty. They may turn up any moment now, and----"
Christine rose hastily, holding the loaded gun in her hand. A
delightful little tinge of colour had suddenly crept into her face.
"They mustn't find me like this," she faltered. "Could you lend me a
coat or something?"
She gazed desperately round the room, as though in search of some
likely garment.
"My entire wardrobe is at your service," I assured her. "You shall
come upstairs and take your choice." I paused. "All the same," I
added regretfully, "I shall never make you look as nice as you do
now."
She blushed again, and, moving impulsively towards her, I once more
slipped my arm round her waist.
"My own darling," I exclaimed, "you must be simply frozen to death;
and your poor little feet----"
"No, no," she protested, "I'm quite all right, really I am. It's
your shoulder we've got to think about."
"Oh, bother my shoulder!" I objected. "It only wants a little
support of some sort. A scarf or a handkerchief or any old thing
will do. I'll come upstairs with you, and you can fix it for me
while I'm routing you out some clothes."
I tried to relieve her of the gun, but with a shake of her head she
insisted upon carrying it, and side by side we mounted the staircase
which led to my own bedroom. There was a box of matches upon the
dressing-table, and, having leaned her weapon carefully against the
wall, Christine proceeded to light the candles.
"Now we'll see what we can find," I said. "I've got any amount of
kit, but I'm afraid none of it will fit you very well."
"I'm going to attend to you first," she answered, pulling open the
top drawer. "Why, here's the very thing I want! This will make a
beautiful sling."
She took out a large silk handkerchief, and, crossing to the
washstand, picked up the wet sponge. Then with an air of almost
professional gravity she came back to where I was standing.
"I learned something about accidents when I was living on the ranch,"
she went on. "You must let me put this under your arm before I
fasten you up. That will keep the collar-bone in position until we
can get it properly set."
With a neatness that would have done credit to Harley Street she
rapidly completed the operation, and, feeling considerably eased as
far as the pain was concerned, I moved over to the wardrobe and threw
back the door.
"Here you are, dear heart!" I said. "Coats, shirts, trousers,
underclothes--anything necessary to a person of taste and fashion."
She laughed softly, and, taking a step forward, peeped in at the
crowded shelves.
"I expect I shall find something that will do," she said. "I only
want to feel a little more respectable and just a tiny bit warmer."
"Well, help yourself to whatever you like," I observed. "I shall
take the gun and go and sit on the staircase until you've finished."
"But you can't use a gun now," she exclaimed, "you've only got one
arm."
"That's quite enough to shoot Manning with," I returned; and, without
waiting for any further remonstrances, I picked up the weapon and
walked out into the passage.
A moment's consideration convinced me that the finest strategical
position was the small landing half-way down. At that point I should
be practically invisible from the hall below, and at the same time I
should command a full view of the front door. Crippled as I was, I
could certainly lay out anyone who attempted to ascend the staircase,
and with this consoling thought I made my way down, and seated myself
comfortably on the first step of the next flight.
In spite of everything, an inexpressible joy was rioting through my
heart. What the devil did such details as a cracked shoulder and the
loss of the diamonds matter when compared with the glorious fact that
I had recovered Christine? From the blackest depths of despair I had
been lifted suddenly to the very heights of human felicity, and the
most carefully balanced human nature is apt to be a trifle upset by
such an abrupt and dazzling transition.
The one disturbing factor in the situation was the thought of de
Roda. His mind had evidently given away entirely, and the memory of
his haggard face and those strange burning eyes of his haunted me
like a reproachful ghost. Manning and Craill were not likely to
burden themselves for long with such a companion. Even if they
spared his life, or what was left of it, they would almost certainly
abandon him at the first possible opportunity. They would go off
with the treasure, leaving him robbed and helpless in some
out-of-the-way-corner of the world, and I knew what suffering it
would mean to Christine unless we were able to save him from such a
fate.
Until Bobby and Campbell arrived, however, there was absolutely
nothing to be done.
I was staring at the door, and asking myself for the tenth time what
could have happened to them, when a thundering rap on the knocker
nearly made me jump from my seat. With an instinctive movement I
thrust the barrel of my gun through the banisters.
"Who's that?" I called out.
"Who the blazes d'you think it is?" came the cheery answer.
It was the one voice in the world that I was longing to hear, and,
scrambling to my feet, I plunged recklessly down the staircase. The
next moment the door was open, and two stalwart figures, clad from
head to feet in glistening oilskins, stepped forward into the light.
"We're very late," began Campbell, "but----"
The sentence died on his lips, and with a sudden sniff he stood
gazing first at me and then at the tumbled heap of logs and furniture
on the further side of the hall.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Bobby. "What have you been doing? Playing
football?"
I looked at them both, and for the life of me I could not help
laughing.
"You were quite correct about the diamonds, Bobby," I said. "Manning
found them without the least difficulty."
I pointed to the fireplace, and with a queer exclamation Campbell
strode across the room and peered into the recess.
"Are you serious, man?" he demanded. "D'ye mean to say he's got
them?"
"Yes," I said, "he's got them all right, and it's only by the mercy
of God and her own pluck that he hasn't got Christine as well."
"When did this happen?"
Campbell shot the question at me so savagely that it sounded like the
bark of a dog.
"Twenty minutes ago," I said.
"And where is he now?" This latter from Bobby.
"Unless he's mad," I replied, "he's probably half a mile down the
estuary on his way to Rotterdam."
There was a moment of pregnant silence.
"So it was their launch we saw," observed Bobby coolly. "I thought
it must be."
Campbell closed the door in the grate with a vicious swing, and came
swiftly back to where we were standing.
"Let us have the facts, Mr. Dryden, just the bare facts and nothing
more." He caught hold of a chair and thrust it towards me.
"Better sit down, man," he added in a gentler voice. "You're looking
as if a rest would do you good."
I took his advice, accepting at the same time the somewhat battered
silver flask which Bobby lugged out hastily from an inside pocket.
It was full of neat brandy, and, having gulped down a generous
mouthful, I proceeded to give them a compressed but faithful
description of the evening's entertainment. The whole recital only
occupied a short while, for in spite of its amazing nature neither of
them attempted to interrupt me.
"So you see what comes of not keeping your appointments, Robert," I
finished. "The diamonds have gone; here am I with a cracked
collar-bone, and----"
A sudden sound attracted our attention, and we all three turned round
abruptly. Christine was standing at the head of the staircase, with
her hand on the banister. Dressed in an old sailing jersey of mine,
with a pair of white flannel trousers rolled up over her bare feet
and ankles, she presented such a delightfully unexpected picture that
for perhaps a couple of seconds none of us moved or spoke.
"Let me introduce you," I said. "Christine, this is Bobby, and this
is Inspector Campbell. I have just been telling them how you saved
my life."
She came down the staircase, and with a simultaneous movement both my
companions started forward to meet her. Bobby, however, arrived
first.
"Put it there," he exclaimed, burying her slender hand in his huge
brown fist. "I told Jack he'd got a prize-packet, and, by God! it's
the truth."