“Becky! Becky!” she shrieked.
“Yes, mother!” came from where the tied-up face was stretched over the balustrade on the first floor.
“Lock yourself in master’s room, open the window, and shriek murder until the police come.”
“Damnation!” roared Garstang; and he rushed at and seized the woman, who clung to one of the bookshelves, bringing it down with a crash, and a shriek came from the upper floor.
“Stop her,” roared Garstang. “There, I give in. Here, Becky, your mother will speak to you.”
“Lock yourself in the room, but don’t scream till I tell you, or he comes,” cried the woman.
“That will do,” said Garstang, savagely, and he loosed his hold, with the result that the woman ran back to the insensible girl, and once more clasped her in her arms.
Garstang began to pace up and down the room, but paused at the door, to reach out and see Becky’s white face and eyes displaying the white rings round them, peering down from above.
At the sight of him she rushed to his bedroom, and stood half inside, ready to lock herself in if he attempted to ascend.
A wild cry from Sarah Plant took Garstang back to her side.