Shield ran his hands over the carving, presently found the device Ludovic had twisted, and turned it. The panel slid back once more, and Shield, picking up the candelabra, went to it, saying sharply: “Ludovic! Are you hurt?”
There was no answer. Sir Tristram bent, so that the candles illumined the cavity, and looked in. It was quite empty.
Chapter Twelve
Sir Tristram put the candelabra down, and once more twisted the device, closing the panel. “He’s not there,” he said.
Mr Bundy betrayed no surprise. “Ah!” he remarked, preparing to climb into the room. “I’d a notion we shouldn’t get out of this so hem easy. As good be nibbled to death by ducks as set out on one of Master Ludovic’s ventures! Where’s he got to, by your reckoning?”
“God knows! He must have slipped out after the candles were knocked over. Don’t come in!”
Bundy obediently stayed where he was. “Just as you say, master. But it ain’t like him to keep out of a fight.”
“He’d be no use in a mill with one arm in a sling,” replied Sir Tristram. “Go and see if he has gone back to where you left your horses. If he’s not there he must be somewhere in the house.”
“Well, I’ll do it,” said Bundy, “but I reckon it’s no manner of use. ’Twouldn’t be natural if young master were to start behaving sensible all on a sudden. You’d be surprised the number of cork-brained scrapes he’s got himself into these two years and more.”
“You’re wrong; I shouldn’t,” retorted Sir Tristram.