"Let me go," cried Bernard, thinking he had been drawn into a trap.
But Mrs. Gilroy still clung with a force for which he would not have given her credit. Shrieking aloud she was dragged by the startled young man into the passage and towards the landing. Below, in the hall, the door of which was open, the cook and the housemaid were embracing a burly policeman, and terrified small page was looking up the stairs. On the vision of this alarmed group reeled Mrs. Gilroy, clinging and shrieking to Bernard—"Help me—help me! He will escape!" The policeman blew a shrill whistle and said a sharp word to the page, who scampered out of the door for dear life. The cook and housemaid receded towards the back of the hall as Bernard, dragging Mrs. Gilroy after him, flung himself down the stairs. He saw now that his position was dangerous, but his wits were so bewildered that he hardly knew what he was doing. As he reached the foot of the stair the policeman caught him by the coat. "I arrest you in the King's name," said the officer, promptly.
"Yes, yes! for murder—murder!" cried Mrs. Gilroy, breathlessly.
"Murder!" the other servants shrieked.
"Who is dead?" asked the policeman, with professional stolidity.
"Sir Simon Gore. This is his grandson. He has strangled him."
"It's a lie—a lie!" cried Bernard, very pale. "I did not enter—"
"Anything you say now will be used in evidence against you," said the policeman. "Come up the stairs, we must see this corpse. A titled man, too, and your grandfather—you audacious scoundrel!" and he shook the wretched young man.
"I tell you I am innocent," said Bernard, his lips dry and his face pale. "I came here—"
"To kill Sir Simon. Jane," cried Mrs. Gilroy, turning to the housemaid. "Don't you see who it is?"