Gregory Penne stood in a sweat of fear, but, so standing, recovered some of his balance. There was time to change. He went up to his ornate bedroom, flung off his pyjamas, and in a short space of time was down again in the dark grounds, seeking for the ape.
Dressed, he felt more of a man. A long glass of whisky restored some of his confidence. He rang for the servant who was in charge of his car.
“Have the machine by the postern gate,” he said. “Get it there at once. See that the gate is open: I may have to leave to-night.”
That he would be arrested he did not doubt. Not all his wealth, his position, the pull he had in the county, could save him. This latest deed of his was something more than eccentricity.
Then he remembered that Stella Mendoza was still in the house, and went up to see her. A glance at his face told her that something unusual had happened.
“Where is Adele?” she asked instantly.
“I don’t know. She escaped—she had a pistol. Bhag went after her. God knows what will happen if he finds her. He’ll tear her limb from limb. What’s that?”
It was the faint sound of a pistol shot at a distance, and it came from the back of the house.
“Poachers,” said Gregory uneasily. “Listen, I’m going.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.