The man, however, paid no attention to her remonstrances. "Go—at once, I command you, in the name of the law!"
She hesitated no longer, but followed Mr. Stapleton into the library. As she did so, the new arrival entered the reception room.
The man with the black beard stood to one side of the doorway. His captor advanced toward the newcomer. "I have him here," he exclaimed, pointing to the kidnapper, "safely ironed."
"Who are you?" curtly inquired the man who had just entered the room.
"A private detective. Here is your man. Let us get him out of here at once."
The official made no reply, but stepped quickly up to the man with the black beard. "Come along with me," he said, roughly, and placed his hand upon the other's arm.
As he did so, the kidnapper shook his wrists briskly. The handcuffs fell clattering to the floor. Without a word he threw his powerful arms about the neck of the astonished official, and throttled him into instant silence. His companion, no less quick, whipped out a handkerchief, and knotted it about the official's mouth. He was unable to utter a sound.
The whole thing was so quickly done that Grace, who was watching the room through the curtains in the doorway, had barely time to utter a cry, before the newcomer was lying helpless and silent upon the floor, choked into insensibility; while the two men, quite evidently confederates, made ready to go.
The black-bearded fellow quickly replaced the handcuffs upon his own wrists. "Quick, Ramond," he cried. "Let us get out at once."
Grace was by this time in the room. She knew that she must in some way prevent these men from escaping. But how—how? They glared at her ominously. The younger man drew a revolver. Before any of them could speak, the servant appeared in the doorway for the third time. His face was pale as death. His knees knocked together from terror as he beheld the gleaming revolver, the man lying upon the floor.