‘So “Redgrave is caught,” is he?’ said Richard to Lock. Without taking his eye off the financier, he stepped backwards and secured the door. ‘Now, Mr. Lock, we are together once more, we three. Don’t utter a word, but go and cut those ropes from Mr. Craig’s arms. Go, I say.’ Richard had a revolver in each hand. He put one down, and took a penknife from his pocket. ‘Stay; here is a knife,’ he added. ‘Now cut.’
As Simon Lock moved to obey the revolver followed his head at a distance of about three inches. Never in his life had Richard been so happy. In a minute Raphael Craig was free.
‘Take his place,’ Richard commanded.
In another two minutes Simon Lock was bound as Raphael Craig had been.
‘Come with me, dear old man. We will leave him. Mr. Lock, your motor-car is in a stable-yard off Adelphi Street. You can have it in exchange for the car which you stole from me a few hours ago.’
He took Raphael Craig’s arm, and the old man suffered himself to be led out like a child.
Within a quarter of an hour father and adopted daughter were in each other’s arms at Adelphi Terrace. The drama was over.