"Oh, d.a.m.n you, get out of the way!" said Garvington, and made for the door. "I go straight to Wanbury," which statement was a lie, as he first intended to see Mother c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l at the camp and make certain that the reward was safe. But Silver believed him and was goaded to frenzy.

"You shan't go!" he screamed, leaping to his feet, and before Garvington knew where he was the secretary had the heavy poker in his grasp. The little fat lord gave a cry of terror and dodged the first blow which merely fell on his shoulder. But the second alighted on his head and with a moan he dropped to the ground. Silver flung away the poker.

"Are you dead? are you dead?" he gasped, kneeling beside Garvington, and placed his hand on the senseless man's heart. It still beat feebly, so he arose with a sigh of relief. "He's only stunned," panted Silver, and staggered unsteadily to the table to seize a gla.s.s of brandy. "I'll, ah--ah--ah!" he shrieked and dropped the tumbler as a loud and continuous knocking came to the front door.

Naturally in his state of panic he believed that the police had actually arrived, and here he had struck down Lord Garvington. Even though the little man was not dead, Silver knew that the a.s.sault would add to his punishment, although he might have concluded that the lesser crime was swallowed up in the greater. But he was too terrified to think of doing anything save hiding the stunned man, and with a gigantic effort he managed to fling the body behind the sofa. Then he piled up rugs and cushions between the wall and the back of the sofa until Garvington was quite hidden and ran a considerable risk of being suffocated. All the time the ominous knocking continued, as though the gallows was being constructed. At least it seemed so to Silver's disturbed fancy, and he crept along to the door holding the revolver in an unsteady grip.

"Who--who--is--"

"Let me in; let me in," said a loud, hard voice. "I'm Miss Greeby. I have come to save you. Let me in."

Silver had no hesitation in obeying, since she was in as much danger as he was and could not hurt him without hurting herself. With trembling fingers he unbolted the door and opened it, to find her tall and stately and tremendously impatient on the threshold. She stepped in and banged the door to without locking it. Silver's teeth chattered so much and his limbs trembled so greatly that he could scarcely move or speak. On seeing this--for there was a lamp in the pa.s.sage--Miss Greeby picked him up in her big arms like a baby and made for the sitting-room. When, within she pitched Silver on to the sofa behind which Garvington lay senseless, and placing her arms akimbo surveyed him viciously.

"You infernal worm!" said Miss Greeby, grim and savage in her looks, "you have split on me, have you?"

"How--how--how do you know?" quavered Silver mechanically, noting that in her long driving coat with a man's cap she looked more masculine than ever.

"How do I know? Because Chaldea was hiding under the studio window this afternoon and overheard all that pa.s.sed between you and Garvington and that meddlesome Lambert. She knew that I was in danger and came at once to London to tell me since I had given her my address. I lost no time, but motored down here and dropped her at the camp. Now I've come to get you out of the country."

"Me out of the country?" stammered the secretary.

"Yes, you cowardly swine, although I'd rather choke the life out of you if it could be done with safety. You denounced me, you beast."

"I had to; my own neck was in danger."

"It's in danger now. I'd strangle you for two pins. But I intend to send you abroad since your evidence is dangerous to me. If you are out of the way there's no one else can state that I shot Pine. Here's twenty pounds in gold;" she thrust a canvas bag into the man's shaking hands; "get on your coat and cap and I'll take you to the nearest seaport wherever that is. My motor is on the verge of the wood. You must get on board some ship and sail for the world's end. I'll send you more money when you write. Come, come," she stamped, "sharp's the word."

"But--but--but--"

Miss Greeby lifted him off the sofa by the scruff of the neck. "Do you want to be killed?" she said between her teeth, "there's no time to be lost. Chaldea tells me that Lambert threatens to have me arrested."

The prospect of safety and prosperity in a distant land so appealed to Silver that he regained his courage in a wonderfully short s.p.a.ce of time. Rising to his feet he hastily drained another gla.s.s of brandy and the color came back to his wan cheeks. But for all the quant.i.ty he had drank that same evening he was not in the least intoxicated. He was about to rush out of the room to get his coat and cap when Miss Greeby laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Is there any one else in the house?" she asked suspiciously.

Silver cast a glance towards the sofa. "There's no servant," he said in a stronger voice. "I have been cooking and looking after myself since I came here. But--but--but--"

"But what, you hound?" she shook him fiercely.

"Garvington's behind the sofa."

"Garvington!" Miss Greeby was on the spot in a moment pulling away the concealing rugs and cushions. "Have you murdered him?" she demanded, drawing a deep breath and looking at the senseless man.

"No, he's only stunned. I struck him with the poker because he wanted to denounce me."

"Quite right." Miss Greeby patted the head of her accomplice as if he were a child, "You're bolder than I thought. Go on; hurry up! Before Garvington recovers his senses we'll be far enough away. Denounce me; denounce him, will you?" she said, looking at Garvington while the secretary slipped out of the room; "you do so at your own cost, my lord.

That forged letter won't tell in your favor. Ha!" she started to her feet. "What's that! Who's here?"

She might well ask. There was a struggle going on in the pa.s.sage, and she heard cries for help. Miss Greeby flung open the sitting-room door, and Silver, embracing Mother c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l, tumbled at her feet. "She got in by the door you left open," cried Silver breathlessly, "hold her or we are lost; we'll never get away."

"No, you won't!" shouted the dishevelled old woman, producing a knife to keep Miss Greeby at bay. "Chaldea came to the camp and I learned through Kara how she'd brought you down, my Gentile lady. I went to tell the golden rye, and he's on the way here with the village policeman. You're done for."

"Not yet." Miss Greeby darted under the uplifted knife and caught Gentilla round the waist. The next moment the old woman was flung against the wall, breathless and broken up. But she still contrived to hurl curses at the murderess of her grandson.

"I saw you shoot him; I saw you shoot him," screamed Mother c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l, trying to rise.

"Silver, make for the motor; it's near the camp; follow the path,"

ordered Miss Greeby breathlessly; "there's no time to be lost. As to this old devil--" she s.n.a.t.c.hed up a lamp as the secretary dashed out of the house, and flung it fairly at Gentilla Stanley. In a moment the old woman was yelling with agony, and scrambled to her feet a pillar of fire. Miss Greeby laughed in a taunting manner and hurled another lamp behind the sofa. "You'd have given me up also, would you, Garvington?"

she cried in her deep tone; "take that, and that, and that."

Lamp after lamp was smashed and burst into flames, until only one was left. Then Miss Greeby, seeing with satisfaction that the entire room was on fire and hearing the sound of hasty footsteps and the echoing of distant voices, rushed in her turn from the cottage. As she bolted the voice of Garvington screaming with pain and dread was heard as he came to his senses to find himself encircled by fire. And Mother c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l also shrieked, not so much because of her agony as to stop Miss Greeby from escaping.

"Rye! Rye! she's running; catch her; catch her. Aha--aha--aha!" and she sank into the now blazing furnace of the room.

The walls of the cottage were of mud, the part.i.tions and roof of wood and thatch, so the whole place soon burned like a bonfire. Miss Greeby shot out of the door and strode at a quick pace across the glade. But as she pa.s.sed beyond the monoliths, Lambert, in company with a policeman, made a sudden appearance and blocked her way of escape. With a grim determination to thwart him she kilted up her skirts and leaped like a kangaroo towards the undergrowth beneath the leafless trees. By this time the flames were shooting through the thatched roof in long scarlet streamers and illuminated the spectral wood with awful light.

"Stop! stop!" cried Lambert, racing to cut off the woman's retreat, closely followed by the constable.

Miss Greeby laughed scornfully, and instead of avoiding them as they crossed her path, she darted straight towards the pair. In a moment, by a dexterous touch of her shoulders right and left, she knocked them over by taking them unawares, and then sprang down the path which curved towards the gypsies' encampment. At its end the motor was waiting, and so vivid was the light that she saw Silver's black figure bending down as he frantically strove to start the machine. She travelled at top speed, fearful lest the man should escape without her.

Then came an onrush of Romany, attracted to the glade by the fire. They guessed from Miss Greeby's haste that something was seriously wrong and tried to stop her. But, delivering blows straight from the shoulder, here, there, and everywhere, the woman managed to break through, and finally reached the end of the pathway. Here was the motor and safety, since she hoped to make a dash for the nearest seaport and get out of the kingdom before the police authorities could act.

But the stars in their course fought against her. Silver, having started the machinery, was already handling the steering gear, and bent only upon saving his own miserable self, had put the car in motion. He could only drive in a slip-slop amateur way and aimlessly zigzagged down the sloping bank which fell away to the high road. As the motor began to gather speed Miss Greeby ran for her life and liberty, ranging at length breathlessly alongside. The gypsies tailed behind, shouting.

"Stop, you beast!" screamed Miss Greeby, feeling fear for the first time, and she tried to grab the car for the purpose of swinging herself on board.

But Silver urged it to greater speed. "I save myself; myself," he shrieked shrilly and unhinged by deadly terror, "get away; get away."

In his panic he twisted the wheel in the wrong direction, and the big machine swerved obediently. The next moment Miss Greeby was knocked down and writhed under the wheels. She uttered a tragic cry, but little Silver cared for that. Rendered merciless with fear he sent the car right over her body, and then drove desperately down the hill to gain the hard road. Miss Greeby, with a broken back, lay on the ground and saw as in a ghastly dream her machine flash roaring along the highway driven by a man who could not manage it. Even in her pain a smile crept over her pale face.

"He's done for, the little beast," she muttered, "he'll smash. Lambert!

Lambert!" The man whose name she breathed had arrived as she spoke; and knelt breathlessly beside her to raise her head. "You--you--oh, poor creature!" he gasped.

"I'm done for, Lambert," she panted in deadly pain, "back broken. I sinned for you, but--but you can't hang me. Look--look after Garvington--c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l too--look--look--Augh!" and she moaned.

"Where are they?"

"In--in--the--cottage," murmured the woman, and fell back in a fainting condition with a would-be sneering laugh.

Lambert started to his feet with an oath, and leaving the wretched woman to the care of some gypsies, ran back to the glade. The cottage was a ma.s.s of streaming, crackling flames, and there was no water to extinguish these, as he realized with sudden fear. It was terrible to think that the old woman and Garvington were burning in that furnace, and desperately anxious to save at least one of the two, Lambert tried to enter the door. But the heat of the fire drove him back, and the flames seemed to roar at his discomfiture. He could do nothing but stand helplessly and gaze upon what was plainly Garvington's funeral pyre.

By this time the villagers were making for the wood, and the whole place rang with cries of excitement and dismay. The wintry scene was revealed only too clearly by the ruddy glare and by the same sinister light.

Lambert suddenly beheld Chaldea at his elbow. Gripping his arm, she spoke hoa.r.s.ely, "The tiny rye is dead. He drove the engine over a bank and it smashed him to a pulp."

"Oh! ah! And--and Miss Greeby?"

"She is dying."