"She is under your roof, where she is powerless to move. Her two confederates lie dead in the vaults yonder. I have already explained to you how it came about that the princess is here and how her infernal apparatus failed. It now remains to call in the police."
"There will be a fearful scandal," Ravenspur groaned.
Tchigorsky glanced at him impatiently. The cosmopolitan knew a great many things that were sealed books to Ravenspur—in point of knowledge it was as a child alongside a great master; but Tchigorsky knew nothing of family pride.
"Which will be forgotten in a week," he said emphatically. "And when the thing is over you will be free again. You cannot realize what that means as yet."
"No," Ravenspur said. "I cannot."
"Nevertheless, you can see for yourself that what I say is a fact," Tchigorsky resumed. "And as a county magistrate and a deputy-lieutenant you would hardly venture to suggest that we should bury those bodies and say nothing to anybody about it?"
Ravenspur nodded approval. A few minutes later a groom was carrying a note to the police inspector at Alton. Ravenspur turned to Tchigorsky with a manner more genial than he usually assumed.
"I have forgotten to thank you," he said. "And you, Ralph, have saved the house. If you can forget the past——" He said no more, but his hand went out. Ralph seemed to divine it and pressed it closely. There was no word uttered on either side. But they both understood and Ralph smiled. Geoffrey had never seen his uncle smile before. The expression of his face was genial, almost handsome. His wooden look had utterly disappeared and nobody ever saw it again. The transformation of Ralph Ravenspur was not the least wonderful incident of the whole mysterious affair.
The door opened and Vera came lightly into the room.
"What does all this mystery mean?" she asked. "Geoffrey, you are—Dr. Tchigorsky!"