Already Mr. Philip Baddock had forestalled me. His hand was on the latch. Without more ado he pushed open the door and I followed him in.
Lady Molly was sitting on the sofa, with Captain Hubert beside her. They both rose at our entrance.
“The police!” said Mr. Baddock, speaking very rapidly. “Felkin has just run up from the lodge. He is getting the car ready. Pray God we may yet be able to get away.”
Even as he spoke the front door bell sounded with a loud clang, which to me had the sound of a death knell.
“It is too late, you see,” said my dear lady, quietly.
“No, not too late,” ejaculated Philip Baddock, in a rapid whisper. “Quick! De Mazareen, follow me through the hall. Felkin is at the stables getting the car ready. It will be some time before the servants are roused.”
“Mary, I am sure, has failed to fasten the front door,” interrupted Lady Molly, with the same strange calm. “I think the police are already in the hall.”
There was no mistaking the muffled sound of feet treading the thick Turkey carpet in the hall. The library had but one exit. Captain Hubert was literally in a trap. But Mr. Baddock had not lost his presence of mind.
“The police would never dream of searching my house,” he said; “they will take my word that De Mazareen is not here. Here!” he added, pointing to a tall Jacobean wardrobe which stood in an angle of the room. “In there, man, and leave the rest to me!”
“I am afraid that such a proceeding would bring useless trouble upon you, Mr. Baddock,” once more interposed Lady Molly; “the police, if they do not at once find Captain de Mazareen, will surely search the house.”