The doctor shook his head.
"No; Mr. Francis, I feel sure, was dead when—when Sanders came. But he took the Luck, so I imagine, from him. I left him clasping the Luck; I returned to find it gone. And two fingers of his hand were broken. But where is the Luck?"
"That I think I can tell you," said Geoffrey, "when my turn comes. But begin at the beginning. I left Jim before dinner in the secret passage."
So, in a few words, the doctor told all that had happened inside the house from the moment when he opened his door and saw the two, who now lay upstairs, talking in the passage, down to his return from the plate closet to find the Luck torn from Mr. Francis's death grip. Then Geoffrey took on the tale to its completion. At the end he laid his hand on the groom's shoulder, with the action of a friend and an equal.
"We have done the talking," he said, "but here's the fellow who did the hard thing in this night's work. I could no more have borne that—that man creeping across the room to where I lay in bed——"
"Than I could have jumped into the lake in the dark, sir," said Jim, "when all that was to be found was— Lord love us all!"
Then there was silence for a while, for the events were still too awful and too close for chattering. The doctor broke it.
"There are two more things to be done," he said: "one, to bring back the plate from the summerhouse; the other, Harry. He must be told everything, but to-morrow will be as well as to-night. By the way, Geoffrey, where will you sleep?—You too, Jim? Can you get into the stable so late?"
"Yes, sir; thank you, sir," said Jim. "I'll wake the helper.—I brought in the rifle, Mr. Geoffrey; you left it by the lake.—Shall I help bring in the plate, sir?"
"No, we must get Templeton and another man in any case," said the doctor. "It must be stowed somewhere to-night; the lock of the plate closet is forced. So get you to bed, Jim. Shake hands like a man, for you are one."