"It would be an easy matter for my mother to have come here," she said. "There is not the slightest chance of being interrupted. And seeing that time is so short----"
The last words were inaudible, for there was a shrill whistle somewhere in the garden, and the dog by Vera's side whined uneasily. As Vera stooped to soothe him she twisted her handkerchief in the hound's collar. She recognised the whistle as Walter's. Then she gave a sign and the great beast bounded away.
[CHAPTER XXX.]
LOST.
A peculiar grim smile came over the face of the man who called himself Amati. He hesitated no longer, but with a single bound had reached Vera's side, his arm was around her neck and his right hand pressed to her lips before she could utter a sound.
"Be silent," he hissed, "and all will be well with you. Believe me, I wish to do you no harm. You are quite safe with me."
There was nothing for it but to stand there obedient to the speaker's will. Then, from his lips, came the sound like that of a bird startled from its nest in the night. The green door opened, and another man appeared. Almost before Vera knew what was happening she was half led, half carried through the door and deposited in a cab. It seemed to her that her senses were fading away, that there was something peculiarly sweet and faint smelling on the handkerchief which her assailant had pressed to her lips. The cab drove away swiftly, and the lane was left in silence once more.
Meanwhile the evening was passing on, and Ravenspur was anxiously waiting for the moment when it would be time to get away. Walter came into the garden presently, wondering what had become of Vera.
"I have been looking for her, too," Ravenspur said. "That is the worst of a great crush in a great house like this. It is so difficult to find anybody. We must be off in a quarter of an hour from now. What is all this I hear about one of the dogs?"
"Oh, that is true enough," Walter laughed. "It was old Bruno. I suppose he managed to get away from Park Lane. At any rate, he followed us here and I found him holding up some people in one of the drawing-rooms. I thought he might just as well come to the station with us, so I tied him up in the shrubbery. When I went to see if he was all right just now I found the rascal had got away again. He came back when I whistled, but I couldn't get him to come to my side. I suppose he was afraid of getting a thrashing. However, he is lying down quite good in the shrubbery now, so there is no cause for worry. I daresay that it would be rather alarming for some of these women to be suddenly confronted with the dog when they were carrying on a tender flirtation in one of the arbours."