We reached the pantry, and he turned to light the gas.
Looking at me in the full blaze, he started back, then scrutinized me closely, then exclaimed:
“What? You are not——”
“Oh, yes, I am! I am Lord Daynesborough.”
“It’s a lie. You are a robber—a——”
“I am Lord Daynesborough—Lord Daynesborough—Lord Daynesborough.”
At each repetition I advanced a step nearer; at the last I produced my trusty pistol, at the same time holding out a bank-note in the other hand.
He took the note.
“You will stay here,” I said, “for the next two hours. You will not come out, whatever happens. Is there anyone else in the house?”
“One maid, Milord, and a man in the stables.”