But when Beaumaroy had entered with Doctor Mary, he had not relocked the door; he opened it now very gently and cautiously, and saw the Sergeant's back—there was no mistaking it. Without letting his surprise—for he had confidently supposed the Sergeant to be in the Tower—interfere with the instant action called for by the circumstances, he flung out his long right arm, caught the Sergeant round the neck with a throttling grip, and dragged him backwards into the house. The man was incapable of crying out; no sound escaped from him which could reach the Tower. Beaumaroy set him softly on the floor of the passage. "If you stir or speak, I'll strangle you!" he whispered. There was enough light from the passage lamp to enable the Sergeant to judge, by the expression of his face, that he spoke sincerely. The Sergeant did not dare even to rub his throat, though it was feeling very sore and uncomfortable.
There was a row of pegs on the passage wall, just inside the door. On them, among hats, caps, and coats—and also Mr. Saffron's grey shawl—hung two long neck-scarves, comforters that the keen heath winds made very acceptable on a walk. Beaumaroy took them, and tied his prisoner hand and foot. He had just completed this operation, in the workman-like fashion which he had learnt on service, when he heard a footstep on the stairs. Looking up, he saw Doctor Mary standing there.
Her waiting in the room above had seemed long to her. Her ears had been expecting the sound of Beaumaroy's tread as he mounted the stairs, laden with his burden. That sound had not come; instead, there had been the soft, just audible, plop of the Sergeant's body as it dropped on the floor of the passage. It occurred to her that Beaumaroy had perhaps had some mishap with his burden, or found difficulty with it. She was coming downstairs to offer her help. Seeing what she saw now, she stood still in surprise.
Beaumaroy looked up at her and smiled. "No cause for alarm," he said, "but I've got to go out for a minute. Keep an eye on this rascal, will you? Oh, and, Doctor Mary, if he tries to move or untie himself, just take the parlour poker and hit him over the head! Thanks. You don't mind, do you? And you, Sergeant, remember what I said!"
With these words Beaumaroy slipped out of the door, and softly closed it behind him.
CHAPTER XV
A NORMAL CASE
When Captain Alec brought his fiancée home after the dinner of welcome and congratulation at Old Place, it was nearly twelve o'clock. Jeanne, however—in these days a radiant Jeanne, very different from the mournful creature who had accompanied Captain Cranster's victim to Inkston a few weeks before—was sitting up for her mistress, and since she had to perform this duty—which was sweetened by the hope of receiving exciting confidences; for surely that affair was "marching"?—it had been agreed between her and the other maids that she should sit up for the doctor also. She told the lovers that Doctor Mary had been called for by Mr. Beaumaroy, and had gone out with him presumably to visit his friend Mr. Saffron. It did not occur to either of them to ask when Mary had set out; they contented themselves with exchanging a glance of disapproval. What a pity that Mary should have anything more to do with this Mr. Saffron and his Beaumaroy!
However there was a bright side to it this time. It would be kind of Cynthia to sit up for Mary and minister to her a cup of tea, which Jeanne should prepare; and it would be pleasant—and quite permissible—for Captain Alec to bear her company. Mary could not be long, surely; it grew late.