At this moment the lamp went out, and the two men sat in absolute darkness.
The next ensuing phenomenon was the sound of an apparently heavy body falling down the stairs into the hall, and then a girl’s terrified scream.
Richard sprang to the door, but a few moments elapsed before his fingers could find the handle. At length he opened the door. The lamp in the hall was still brightly burning. At the foot of the stairs lay Nolan, the detective, wrapped in a bedgown. At the head of the stairs, in an attitude of dismay, stood Juana.
There was a heavy and terrible sigh at Richard’s elbow. He turned his head sharply. Raphael Craig stood behind him, his body swaying as though in a breeze.
‘Juana!’ he stammered out hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the trembling girl.
‘Do not curse me again, father,’ she cried, with a superb gesture; ‘I have suffered enough.’
An oak chest stood to the left of the drawing-room door. Raphael Craig sank down upon it, as if exhausted by a sudden and frightful emotion.
‘Go!’ he said in a low voice.
But the girl came steadily downstairs towards him.
No one seemed to take any notice of the body of the detective.