The fastening grated, and the window was thrown open.
“What is it?” whispered Brettison; “are you ill?”
“Yes; sick at heart. We must be off at once.”
“Hist! speak lower! there is only the closed door between my room and his,” whispered Brettison, “and he is restless to-night. I’ve heard him move and mutter. In Heaven’s name, what is it—the police on the scent?”
“Would that they were waiting to take him off this moment, man,” whispered Stratton. “Myra and her father are here.”
“You’re mad.”
“Yes. But they are in the house above.”
“They—the newcomers just arrived?”
“Yes. I thought I saw Guest and Edie to-night in the darkness. I was going to tell you, but I felt ashamed, thinking you would say what you did just now. But I have met Guest since, and spoken with him. Five minutes ago I heard Sir Mark speaking.”
“Great Heavens!” gasped Brettison again. “Then we have brought him here to place wife and husband face to face!”