It was about a quarter past eight when Geoffrey left Jim in the secret passage, and, in accordance with his instructions, went back to the box hedge where he had concealed the rifle and cartridges. With these he skirted wide up the short grassy slope that led to the summerhouse, and trying the door, found it unlocked. It stood, as he had supposed, some fifteen feet above the level of the mist that lay round the house below, and was admirably situated for the observation of any movement or man?uvre that might be made, for it commanded a clear view past the front of the house down to the lake, while the road from the stables passed not fifty yards from it, joining the carriage sweep: from the carriage sweep at right angles ran the drive. Clearly, then, if Jim\'s account of Sanders\'s visit and order to the stables covered a design, the working out of it must take place before his eyes.
The summerhouse stood close to the background of wood in which last summer Evie and Mr. Francis had once walked, a mere black blot against the blackness of the trees, and Geoffrey, pulling a chair to the open door, sat commandingly[Pg 425] invisible. His rifle he leaned against the wall, ready to his hand, and it was in more than moderate composure that he ate the sandwiches with which the doctor had provided him. There was, he expected, a long vigil in front of him before any active share in the operations should stand to his name; the first act would be played in that great square ship of a house that lay anchored out in the sea of mist. What should pass there in the next two hours he strenuously forbore to conjecture; for it was his business to keep his brain cool, and avoid all thoughts which might heat that or render his hand unsteady. That short interview with the doctor had given him a confidence that made firm the shifting quicksands of fear which all day had quaked within him, for the man had spoken to him with authority, masterful and decided, which had stilled the shudderings and perplexities of the last twelve hours. He had to see to it that they should not awake again.
At intervals of seemingly incalculable length the clock from the stable drowsily told the hour, and but for that and the slow wheeling of the young moon, he could have believed that time had ceased. No breath of wind stirred in the trees behind, or shredded the opaque levels of the mist in front; a death and stagnation lay over the world, and no sound but the muffled murmur of the sluice from the lake broke the silence. The world spun in space, and the sound of the invisible outpouring waters might have been the rustle of its passage through interstellar space.
Then the spell and soothing of the stillness laid hold of him; the hour of action was near, the intolerable fret of anxiety nearly over. Inside the house that dark, keen-eyed man was not one whom the prudent would care to see in opposition (and on which side he was Geoffrey no longer entertained a doubt\'s shadow), nor, for that matter, was his lieutenant, the impassive, spurious Harry. By his unwilling means last summer had Mr. Francis made the first of his vile attempts; by his means, perhaps, this should be the last. Geoffrey could rest assured that they would do all that lay in the power of two very cool heads: his business was to see that his own part should not be less well done.
Some years ago—or was the stroke still resonant?—half past ten had struck on the stable clock; and since eleven had not yet sounded, it was earlier than he had suspected, when there came a noise which sent his heart hammering for a moment in his throat. He could not at once localize or identify it, and, though still obscure and muffled, he had only just decided that it could not be very far off, before he guessed what it was. Its direction and its nature came to him together: some vehicle was being cautiously driven over the grass toward the house from the stables, and on the moment he caught sight of it. It was moving at a very slow pace, more than half drowned in the mist, and all he could see of it was the head and back of a horse, the head and shoulders of the man who led it, and the box seat and rail of some vehicle of the wagonette type. It reached the gravel walk with a crisp, crunching sound, and drew up there. Then he heard the unmistakable rattle of the brake being put hard on, and the man, tying the reins in a knot, looped them round the whip-holder. He then left it, not forty yards from where Geoffrey sat, and was swallowed up in the fog going toward the house. The curtain was up for the second act. What had the first been?
The thing had passed so quickly and silently that he could almost have believed that his imagination had played him some trick, were it not for the sight of that truncated horse and carriage which testified to its reality. There, without doubt, was the carriage from the stables, of which Jim had told them; but he could not have sworn to the identity of the man who led it, in the uncertain light. And he picked up his rifle and laid it across his knees, prepared again to wait.
Soon afterward eleven struck, and, while the strokes were still vibrating, came the second interruption to his silent waiting. Out of the mist between the wagonette and the house dimly appeared two heads moving slowly toward the carriage, and rising gradually as they climbed the slope above the level mist, till they were distinct and clear as far as the shoulders. They walked about a yard apart, and words low and inaudible to the watcher passed between them. Arrived at the carriage, they seemed to set something down, and then with an effort hoist it into the body of[Pg 428] the vehicle. And as they again raised themselves, Geoffrey saw that the one head sparkled whitely in the moonshine, and he well knew to whom those venerable locks belonged. Then there came audible words.
"Come back, then, Sanders," said Mr. Francis, "and wait at the top of the back stairs, while I go very gently to his room to see if it is all right. In any case I shall use the chloroform. Then, when I call you, come and help me to carry him down to the plate closet. There I shall leave you, and go back to bed. Afterward, drive hard to the village, leave the plate at the cottage I told you of, and bring the doctor back. Are you ready? Where is the—ah! thank you. No, I prefer to carry it myself. The Luck! the Luck! At last—at last!"
He raised a hand above his head; it grasped a case. The man\'s face was turned upward toward the moon, and Geoffrey, looking thereon, could scarcely stifle an exclamation of horror.
"It is not a man\'s face," he said to himself. "It is some mad incarnation of Satan!"
In another minute all was silent again, the inhuman figures had vanished; again only the section of horse and cart appeared above the mist. For a moment Geoffrey hesitated, unwilling by any possible risk to lose the ultimate success, but the chance of being heard or seen by those retreated figures was infinitesimal, and he crept crouchingly down the slope to where the wagonette stood. Then, opening the door, he lifted[Pg 429] out, exerting his whole strength, the load the two had put there, and, bent double under the ponderous weight, made his way back to the summerhouse. The burden clinked and rang as he moved: there could be no doubt what his prize was.
He had not long been back at his post when muffled, rapid footsteps again rivetted him, and he saw a moving dark shape coming with great swiftness up from the house. As before, with the rising of the ground, it grew freer of the mist, till when it reached the carriage he could easily recognise the head and shoulders of Sanders. Somehow, and if possible without the cost of human life, he must have stopped. He had already swung a small case easily recognisable by the watcher on to the box, and he himself was in the act of mounting, when an idea struck Geoffrey. Taking quick but careful aim, he fired at the horse, just below the ear. At so short a range a miss would have been an incredible thing, and with the report of the rifle the head sank out of sight into the mist.
Then he stood up.
"If you move, Sanders, I fire!" he cried. "This time at you!"
But even as he said the words, the box was already empty. The man had slipped down with astonishing rapidity behind the wagonette, and when Geoffrey next saw him dimly through the mist he was already some yards away. Even while he hesitated, with another cartridge yet in[Pg 430] his hand, he was gone, and waiting only to put it in, he ran down to the cart. The case, the same beyond a doubt as was in Mr. Francis\'s hand ten minutes ago, which he had seen Sanders swing on to the box just now, before mounting himself, was gone also.
At that he ran down, at the top of the speed he dare use, after the vanished figure. Once he heard the crunch of gravel to the right, and turned that way, already bewildered by this blind pursuit in the mist; once he thought he heard the rustle of bushes to his left, and turned there. Then, beyond any doubt, he heard his own name called. At that he stopped.
"Who is it?" he cried.
"Me, sir—Jim," said an imperturbable voice close to him.
"Ah! is Harry—is his lordship safe?"
"Yes, sir, quite safe. The doctor sent me out to see if I could help you."
Before Geoffrey could reply, a sudden wild cry rang out into the night, broken short by the sound of a great splash.
"My Gawd, what\'s that?" cried Jim, startled for once.
"I shouldn\'t wonder if it was Sanders," said Geoffrey. "Come to the lake, Jim. God forgive us for trying to rescue the devil! I wonder if he can swim?"
"Like a stone, sir, I hope," said Jim cheerfully.
The roar of the sluice was a guide to them,[Pg 431] but they had lost each other twenty times before they reached the lake. In that dense and blinding mist, here risen high above their heads, even sound came muffled and uncertain, and it was through trampled flower beds and the swishing of shrubs against their faces that they gained the edge and stood on the foaming sluice. The water was very high, the noise bewildering to the senses; and yet, despite the fact that five minutes ago Geoffrey had been hesitating whether or not to shoot at that vague runner through the fog, caring nothing whether he killed him, yet now he did not hesitate to run a risk himself, in order to............