“Why?” she cried. “Did you hear? Can you not see how I am linked with those who are flying from justice? Heaven help me! I ought to be with them still.”

“Hush!” he said gently; “you are wildly excited now. Your brain is not in a condition to think calmly and dispassionately of your position. It may be days before it recovers its balance. Till then, Marion, try and think this one thing – that you are watched over by one to whom your honour and safety are more than his own life. Marion, my own – my very own – let the past be dead; the future shall be my care.”

She sighed piteously and shivered, as she lay back in the corner of the cab, and, startled by her manner, he hurriedly took her hand.

She shrank back, looking wildly at him, till she fully realised his object, and then with a weary smile upon her lip she resigned her hand.

“You are utterly prostrated by the shock of what you have gone through,” he said gravely. “We shall not be long now. Try – try hard to be calm. The distance is very short, and then you will feel safe and soon grow composed.”

She gave him a grateful look, and then closed her eyes, lying back with her face ghastly pale, and the nerves at the sides of her temples and the corners of her lips twitching sharply at times, as if she were in pain.

But she sat up when the cab stopped, and gave Chester her hand as she alighted, and walked with him up the steps and into the house.

As the door closed she turned to him wildly and tottered slightly, but when he made a movement to catch her in his arms, she shrank away, and he drew back and offered his hand.

She laid hers within it, and his first thought was to take her into his consulting-room, but he led her upstairs towards the drawing-room, and she walked firmly enough till they were nearly at the landing, when he felt her swerve, and but for his quick action she would have fallen back.

“My poor darling!” he whispered, as he lifted her in his arms. “You have done most bravely. It has been too much for any woman to go through.”

It was but a few steps, and then he paused upon the landing while he threw open the drawing-room door and bore her in, quite insensible now to all that passed.

For as he entered the room Chester found himself face to face with his sister; but she was not, as he had anticipated, alone. Isabel was with her, and they stood gazing at him as if stunned by the sudden intrusion.

Chapter Thirty Two.
Something in the Sawdust

Highcombe Street gradually became blocked by the eager crowd always ready to gather, discuss and microscopically magnify the event that has been the attraction, and in a very short time it was current that a dreadful deed had been perpetrated in open daylight at the window of the ground floor room on the left of the front door. The victim was said to have been seen shrieking wildly for help, till a man had dragged her away, closing the window afterward and shutting the shutters, so that, with the blinds of the upstairs windows drawn down, the whole of the mansion had a strangely-mysterious aspect which, to the over-heated brains of many of the lookers-on, exactly suggested the place where, a murder might have been committed.

It did not occur to the wonder-gulpers that there were several houses in the same street presenting precisely the same aspect consequent upon their owners being out of town, and that the mansion next door, with its gloomy, unkempt aspect and soot-coated windows, was much more forbidding; but then it had no policeman stationed at the area gate and two more at the front door, who objected vigorously to boys climbing over the railings and others trying to peer through the long, slit-like windows on either side of the entrance.

An Englishman’s house is said to be his castle, and serious steps generally have to be taken by the police before they break in, the great exception to the rule being in the case of firemen, who as soon as they are convinced that their enemy is in the place, make no scruple about using their axes against door or window, setting up a ladder, and climbing in.

In this case, in despite of the excitement, matters moved slowly, the principal steps taken being upon the arrival of more police, the stationing of these at the back where there was the mews, and an attempt to get in through the garden; but here a difficulty presented itself at once; there was no garden, the space existing between the houses and stables at the bottom being built entirely over, and the stables swept away. There was no back exit, but constables were stationed in the mews all the same so as to keep an eye upon the stabling to right and left.

Soon after, while the superintendent and sergeant were discussing proceedings, an occupant of the opposite house pointed out the fact that one of the drawing-room window blinds was flapping to and fro, suggesting that a French window in the balcony was a little way open.

The suggestion was acted upon at once. A ladder from the nearest fire station was brought, and the police were watched with breathless interest and cheered as they mounted and reached the balcony, another cheer following as half a dozen entered the great mansion and disappeared to commence searching the house, the excitement increasing as they were seen to throw open the shutters of the library windows, in which room not so much as an overturned chair caught their attention.

It due course the magnificently-furnished place was searched, the only thing peculiar there being that the bed in a quiet-looking chamber on the third floor had been evidently made that morning, but lain upon since, while the key of the door was outside.

No way out at the back was discovered from the ground floor, and after a careful search for the missing occupants in every room, the police descended to the basement, everything above being in so quiet and orderly a state that the whole affair began to assume the aspect of imagination on the part of the constable who had given the alarm.

“Didn’t dream you’d got a case on, Dick, did you?” said the superintendent, banteringly, as the pantry was entered.

“Don’t look like it, do it, sir?” replied the man, triumphantly pointing to the table, on which lay the freshly-cut rope which had bound the housekeeper.

“Humph! Don’t see much in that,” said the superintendent. “There’s the plate-closet. Well, that’s all right. Someone’s been having wine. Nothing to wonder at in that when there’s plenty. Splendid place; but the case begins to look to me like a flam.”

“Why, there’s plenty outside saw the lady, too, sir,” grumbled the constable.

“Then where is she?”

There was no answer, and the various domestic offices were examined, everything being in perfect order, and the only exit apparent being through the area door, which was locked, bolted and barred, as were all the windows.

“Where does this lead?” said the superintendent, as he entered the passage farther back. “Another cellar, perhaps.” They followed to the end, one of the men striking a match or two, for the extreme part was dark. “Humph! locked. Well, that can’t be a way out, for there is no mat.” Sniff, sniff! “What’s that – powder? and what’s that empty Gladstone doing there?”

Just then the constable who had given the alarm suddenly stepped forward and stooped down.

“What is it, Dick? One of the straws out of the mare’s nest?” said the superintendent.

For answer, the man drew at something quite low down by the floor, and it came away in his hand, to prove, on being held to the light of a wax match, a mere scrap of a handsomely-braided silk dress.

“Ah!” cried the superintendent, showing the first signs of excitement, “smell of powder – that bit of silk!”

He thumped with his knuckles on the panel of the door, and exclaimed —

“There’s an iron inside; dress caught as they passed through, and as the door was shut the edge cut that off like a pair of shears. There’s a way out here, my lads, and we’ve got hold of the clue.”

It seemed easier to point out the clue than to follow it, for the door was strong, and it was not until suitable implements had been fetched, to further excite the crowd, and a sturdy attack made at the end of the passage, that the outer door gave way, the bolts of the strongly-made lock being broken right off.

“By George! you’ve got hold of a case this time, my lad,” cried the superintendent; “but it’s an attempt at a big burglary. This isn’t a way out; it’s the principal plate-closet, and they’ve been trying to get it open, and failed. Hammer leather-covered, wedges, pistols, dark lantern smashed, tin of powder, and marks on the front of the safe door where the wedges have been. Powder smells quite strong here. They must have tried to blast the door open. Out, all of you; they’re hiding somewhere. They can’t have got away.”

The men turned back, all but the one who had given the alarm, and he had struck a fresh match, for the bulb in the ceiling gave forth no light, and was stooping down to sweep away some of the sawdust on the floor.

“Come along, Dick,” cried the superintendent. “What have you got there?”

“Look, sir,” said the man, holding out a handful of the sawdust he had scraped up. “There’s a bottle yonder that’s had port wine in it, but this looks to me like blood.”

Chapter Thirty Three.
Tom Tiddler’s Ground

“Blood of the grape!” cried the superintendent, contemptuously. “Where were you brought up? Never in a gentleman’s wine cellar before? You should go down to the docks and see the floors there. By Jingo! but it is blood!”

More of the sawdust was scraped aside, and the truth was plain enough; a broad patch had lain there, and the granulated wood had been thrown over to soak it up.

But the constable was not satisfied yet; he kept peering about, made his way to the iron door, and then dropped upon his knees.

“Here you are, sir,” he cried. “They’ve put the body in here, it seems to me, for there’s a tiny smutch just against the edge. There’s been murder done.”

“You’re right, Joe,” cried the superintendent, sharply; “but where are the men? You stay here, I’ll have the place searched again.”

Every nook and corner of the basement was examined without result, and then the rest of the house was carefully gone over once more, but the place proved to be empty, and the superintendent returned to where his sentry was on duty.

“Made anything out, sir?”

“No.”

“What about the roof? Must be a trap, and they’ve got through there.”

“There is a trap, my lad, but the cobwebs over it show that it can’t have been opened to-day.”

“What about the cellar, sir?”

“I have searched all but the wine cellars, and we can’t break in there. I’ve sent orders to find out who lives here and telegraph to the family to come up.”

“But you won’t wait, sir, before getting this iron door open?”

“No, I sha’n’t wait for that.”

“That’s right, sir. They’ve killed the poor lady I saw, I’m afraid, and she’s lying in there. That must be a bit of her dress.”

There was no further hesitation. Suitable workmen were obtained, and after many hours’ toil the great iron door was drilled and prised off, the police stepping forward at once to raise the body they expected to find, and then standing dumbfounded at seeing that there were a couple of shelves upon one side. The rest of the iron closet was perfectly empty.

A little further investigation by the aid of lights soon showed, though, that the supposed strong-room full of costly jewels and plate was only the entrance to another place, one side forming a door.

This was attacked in turn, and after a long resistance was forced off by the workmen, and once more the police advanced on the tip-toe of expectation, to find themselves in a passage leading into a crypt-like chamber which had evidently been carefully elaborated out of the old cellarage, traces of which still remained. But there was no sign of occupation, and for a few moments the police hesitated as to which of the two closed doors they should attack. These were both of iron, which, like those of the safe they had passed through, were evidently of Belgian manufacture, from the name embossed thereon.

But the hesitation soon passed away, for while one proved to be locked the other was unfastened, and after leaving a couple of men on guard, the superintendent passed on, leading the way through the farther door. Beyond was a dark passage cumbered with packing-cases, stacked on one side from floor to ceiling, while on turning into another passage which ran at right angles, they came upon a couple of heavy chests in the course of being unpacked, a heap of old books standing upon the corner of one.

They examined the place, the basement of a mansion with double kitchens, servants’ hall, pantry, and the like, and the cursory glance obtained showed them that the crypt-like vaults through which they had passed must be beneath the garden at the back of the house.

But after satisfying themselves that no one was there they ascended a flight of stone steps, to find themselves in the book-encumbered hall of the professor’s home. Then followed a quick search through the chambers of what proved to be an enormous library, room after room being covered with dusty book-shelves, the home of spiders innumerable, while only one chamber on the second floor proved to be a bedroom.

Still, there was no trace of those they sought, and a little further examination showed that they must have passed out into the garden, entered the stabling at the bottom, and gone out into the mews at the back, and without doubt before the men were sent round to watch.

“No capture yet,” said the superintendent, grimly; “but it seems to me, Dick, that you’ll get your promotion over this bit of mystery, for a nice game of some kind has been carried on, and we haven’t got to the bottom of it yet I want that other door open now.”

They descended to the crypt again, and paused before the locked iron door, which, thanks to the experience gained in opening the others of the same make, the workmen forced in the course of an hour, and at the first flash in of a bull’s-eye lantern a suppressed hiss of excitement escaped from the officer’s lips.

“At last!” he muttered. “It’s murder, then, after all, but where’s the girl?”

For there, just as they had been carried in, ready for future disposal, lay side by side, in the bottom of the roomy iron closet, the bodies of the two servants, each with a bullet wound in the head, such an one as would produce almost instant death.

They were carried out and laid upon a broad table of massive make, and as soon as this was done the superintendent examined the iron closet, whose back was covered with a perfect nest of drawers, one of which on being opened proved to be full of carefully-done-up rouleaux, the greater part of the rest being similarly filled.

One of the rouleaux was torn open, and a portion of its contents poured into the officer’s hand.

“Sovereigns,” he said. “Why, they must have had to do with some bank. Eh, what?”

“Duffers,” said the constable addressed as Dick. “A gang of smashers.”

“It isn’t a time for making jokes,” said another of the men, who was handling a couple of sovereigns, “or I’d say you was a duffer. Look at that; hark at this.”

He handed one coin to the man, and rang another on the heavy table, for it to give out the true sound of sterling gold.

“No smashing here,” said the superintendent.

“Then what does all this mean?” said Dick, directing the light of the lantern he carried across to the far end of the vault. “There’s all the tackle – rolling mill, die stamps, and the rest of it.”

“Bah! coiners melt their stuff and electro-gild it. These are right enough, and there’s a big sum of money in there. Here, to work at once; I must have that door back in its place and the front sealed up.”

His man shook his head, and while the superintendent was busy directing the workmen, the constable carefully examined the elaborate machinery, and came upon a couple of chests full of little ingots which seemed to be of the right size for rolling out and stamping into coin.

“I know!” he muttered at last.

“What do you know?” said the superintendent.

“They must be South Africa people with a gold mine of their own, and to save trouble make up their own stuff into sovereigns. Here, I want to look at those poor chaps again.”

The superintendent seemed disposed to bid him let them be, but he was beginning to feel more and more confidence in his subordinate’s brains, and together they flashed the light over the ghastly faces.

“That’s right,” said the constable. “I know ’em well. It’s the butler and footman from next door. I’ve often seen ’em.”

“Then I’ve got a theory now,” said the superintendent, clapping his subordinate on the shoulder. “You’re right, I think, about their coining their own gold, and they came back to town – you see, Dick, the people of the house were out of town.”

“Yes, been out some time. I know that.”

“Well, they came back, and caught these two chaps breaking into the way to their underground bank, and they treated them like burglars, and shot them. Then there was a row; that lady you talk about wouldn’t stand it; you raised the alarm.”

“And they’ve sloped. Ah, we ought to have had them, sir.”

“Oh, we’ll do it yet. They can’t get away very far, my lad. Now then, what are you thinking about now?”

“All those quids, sir. I’m sure I’m right now. Big swells like they were, as I’ve often seen, with tip-top carriages and horses, wouldn’t coin their own gold even if they’d got a mine. They’re a gang of coiners, sir, and so you’ll see. Got one of the sovs., sir?”

“No.”

“Then take one of those little bars, and have that examined.”

The superintendent picked up one of the ingots, looked at it intently and shook his head.

“Ah, you can’t tell by that, sir,” said his subordinate. “I say, look, sir; they’ve had the electric light. I wonder where they turn it on.”

The place was soon found, the stud pressed, and about a dozen glass bulbs shed a beautifully soft light through the arched place.

“Good gold; a big sum of money in ingots, my lad,” said the inspector, jingling two bars together and producing a musical sound. “Here, stop! I must have all these in that strong closet before we go – and double my sentries,” he muttered. “Why, there must be thousands of pounds’ worth lying here.”

Chapter Thirty Four.
A Sharp Shock

As Chester entered the room, and found himself face to face with the woman he had so cruelly used, he involuntarily caught Marion’s arm, placed it beneath his own, and drew a deep breath as if prepared to defend her against any attack.

Marion shivered slightly and pressed to his side, while Isabel gazed at her wildly and fixedly, before letting her lids drop over her eyes, and standing there breathing painfully, with one hand resting over her heart.

Chester glanced at her with a feeling of despair and misery rising in his breast, but he turned his pitying gaze away and spoke to his sister, who stood drawn up to her full height, frowning, and as defiant as the brother upon whom she fixed her eyes as he spoke.

“Laura,” he said gently, “I have brought this lady here as a man brings one who seeks sanctuary – safety from a terrible peril.”

“Well?” she said coldly.

“I bring her to you, my sister, asking you – to let her find the refuge and safety of which I have spoken. You will do this for my sake?”

“No!” cried a sharp voice from the door – a voice which sank from time to time in its owner’s excited state, so that her words were only half audible – “No, she will do nothing of the kind. How dare you bring her here to insult the lady to whom you were betrothed?”

Chester turned upon the speaker angrily, but after the first word or two his voice softened down, and he spoke as one suffering deeply from his emotion.

“Aunt, you have no right to speak to me like this. Remember, please, that something is due to me; far more to the lady for whom I ask protection and a welcome.”

“No, no,” whispered Marion. “For pity’s sake take me away from here.”

“No,” said Chester, firmly. “This is my house, and you will stay here. Laura, you heard what I said?”

“Yes, Fred; I heard what you said,” she replied in a cold, unemotional way.

“Then give Miss Clareborough the welcome I ask of my own sister.”

“No!” cried Aunt Grace, angrily.

“Aunt,” said Laura, coldly, “have the goodness to be silent. No, Fred, I cannot do what you say. It is an insult to Isabel and to me to make such a request.”

“Have you no pity for me?” whispered Marion, reproachfully. “How can you expose me to this?”

He passed an arm round her waist and led her to a chair.

“Isabel,” he said gently, and she started and raised her eyes, to gaze at him fully, “you must know I could; not dream that you would be here. You will forgive me, too, for what I am compelled to say.”

She bowed her head gently and once more veiled her eyes, while Chester stood by the chair holding Marion’s hand.

“Aunt Grace, I insist upon your being silent. You have no voice in this matter. Laura, I tell you again that this lady is in grievous peril and needs all a sister’s help. I ask that help of you; will you give it?”

Laura was silent for a few moments; then she turned and gazed at Isabel, ending by throwing her arms about her, and then facing her brother once more.

“Well?” he said bitterly.

“It is impossible, Fred. If you have forgotten all that was due to Isabel, I cannot. No; and if aunt leaves this house I go with her.”

“I insist then,” cried Chester, angrily.

“No,” said Marion, rising. “I must go. It is not right.”

“I am the best judge of that,” said Chester, firmly, and he retained her hand. “Isabel, I never thought that we could ever stand in such a position as this; but now, face to face, I feel bound to say once more, forgive me, and to ask you to believe the simple truth – that I should have been doing you a greater wrong in holding to our engagement and making you my wife.”

She looked up at him firmly, and his heart throbbed with pity for her innocence and suffering, but there was no reproach in her clear, steadfast gaze. He read in it that she unquestioningly yielded to her fate; and at the end of a few moments her eyes fell towards the floor.

“You see,” whispered Marion, faintly, “it is impossible. Let me go and join them.”

“And leave me?” he whispered. “Here, water – quick! Oh, if there is an unfeeling creature upon the face of the earth, it is a woman at a time like this. Can you not see that she is fainting after the most cruel sufferings, and you all stand aside as if she were some leprous thing! Hah! Isabel!”

“Yes, Fred,” she said softly.

She went down on one knee and tenderly raised the fainting woman’s head till it rested upon her shoulder.

The touch seemed to revive Marion, and in a few moments she opened her eyes and gazed wonderingly at the face so close to hers.

“You?” she said softly.

“Yes; I. He says you are suffering and in great peril. I am alone now here in London, and if you will come with me, for his sake I will be to you as a sister till the danger, whatever it may be, has passed.”

“Ah!” sighed Marion, the spasm seeming to tear itself from her breast, and she lay still for some moments with her eyes closed.

“Come – sister,” whispered Isabel, and she bent down and pressed her lips to the forehead so near her.

Marion’s colour flushed to her temples, and she looked up wildly and flung her arms about Isabel’s neck, kissing her passionately.

“Yes,” she said. “I will come.”

There was a tap at the door, and Chester hurried across the room to prevent the maid from entering.

“Yes,” he said excitedly; “what is it?”

“If you please, sir, it is the police; two of them, and they say they must see you directly.”

“Great heavens!” cried Chester, wildly, as he turned and gazed at where Marion had started to her feet and stood pale and ghastly, for she had heard the words. “Too late – too late! Yes; I know. Marion, that hound! that fiend! He is taken, and in his cowardly revenge he has sent them here.”

In the full belief that the police would be coming up to the room, Chester ran to the door.

“Where are they?” he whispered sharply to the maid, who was wondering at the undue excitement displayed.

“In the hall, sir.”

Chester’s mind was made up on the instant, and he turned to Isabel.

“Heaven bless you for this!” he cried passionately. “I cannot explain now, only that it is a case of great emergency. Take Miss Clareborough with you, and keep her until I write or come. I do not deserve this at your hands, but your presence here is like that of some good angel. You will take her home?”

“Yes,” she said softly, as she avoided his eyes.

“Listen, then,” he whispered anxiously.

“These people below have come in search of her, and she must not fall into their hands. I will go and keep, them in conversation, while you get her away at once.”

“I will,” replied Isabel, calmly.

“Heaven bless you!” he cried passionately, and then he turned to Marion, who looked quite exhausted.

“Go with her,” he said – “at once. You will be safe there until I come.”

“No,” she replied despairingly. “It would be better for you – for her – that we never meet again.”

He caught her hand in his.

“Refuse this, and I will not answer for the consequence,” he whispered angrily. “Remember you are mine.”

He hurried out, trying to be perfectly calm, met the representatives of the law in the hall, and signed to them to come into the consulting-room, and closed the door.