"Garvington!" Miss Greeby was on the spot in a moment pulling away the concealing rugs and cushions. "Have you murdered him?" she demanded, drawing a deep breath and looking at the senseless man.
"No, he's only stunned. I struck him with the poker because he wanted to denounce me."
"Quite right." Miss Greeby patted the head of her accomplice as if he were a child, "You're bolder than I thought. Go on; hurry up! Before Garvington recovers his senses we'll be far enough away. Denounce me; denounce him, will you?" she said, looking at Garvington while the secretary slipped out of the room; "you do so at your own cost, my lord. That forged letter won't tell in your favor. Ha!" she started to her feet. "What's that! Who's here?"
She might well ask. There was a struggle going on in the passage, and she heard cries for help. Miss Greeby flung open the sitting-room door, and Silver, embracing Mother Cockleshell, tumbled at her feet. "She got in by the door you left open," cried Silver breathlessly, "hold her or we are lost; we'll never get away."
"No, you won't!" shouted the dishevelled old woman, producing a knife to keep Miss Greeby at bay. "Chaldea came to the camp and I learned through Kara how she'd brought you down, my Gentile lady. I went to tell the golden rye, and he's on the way here with the village policeman. You're done for."
"Not yet." Miss Greeby darted under the uplifted knife and caught Gentilla round the waist. The next moment the old woman was flung against the wall, breathless and broken up. But she still contrived to hurl curses at the murderess of her grandson.
"I saw you shoot him; I saw you shoot him," screamed Mother Cockleshell, trying to rise.
"Silver, make for the motor; it's near the camp; follow the path," ordered Miss Greeby breathlessly; "there's no time to be lost. As to this old devil—" she snatched up a lamp as the secretary dashed out of the house, and flung it fairly at Gentilla Stanley. In a moment the old woman was yelling with agony, and scrambled to her feet a pillar of fire. Miss Greeby laughed in a taunting manner and hurled another lamp behind the sofa. "You'd have given me up also, would you, Garvington?" she cried in her deep tone; "take that, and that, and that."
Lamp after lamp was smashed and burst into flames, until only one was left. Then Miss Greeby, seeing with satisfaction that the entire room was on fire and hearing the sound of hasty footsteps and the echoing of distant voices, rushed in her turn from the cottage. As she bolted the voice of Garvington screaming with pain and dread was heard as he came to his senses to find himself encircled by fire. And Mother Cockleshell also shrieked, not so much because of her agony as to stop Miss Greeby from escaping.
"Rye! Rye! she's running; catch her; catch her. Aha—aha—aha!" and she sank into the now blazing furnace of the room.