Chapter Three.
Two Hundred Guineas.
Chester took a couple of steps to his right, for there was a faint sound in the pitchy darkness which he interpreted to mean the advance of an enemy. Then in the perturbation of spirit and nervousness of the moment, he moved a step or two cautiously in what he believed to be the direction of the other door, and stopped short, half-dazed by the feeling of confusion which comes upon one in a dense fog.
“Who did that?” said the voice he recognised. “You, Marion, of course. Here, you go to your room.”
There was no reply.
“Do you hear me? It is no time for fooling now.”
“Yes, I hear you, but I will not leave his side. You cowards! do you want to kill me too?”
“Hold your tongue. Di—Paddy—all of you, get hold of the mad fool before worse comes of it.”