For in the corridor, hurrying towards him, were General Sadgrove, Senator Sherman, and Alec Forsyth, each with revolvers in their hands, while Sybil Hanbury brought up the rear, looking as if she resented that position. In the presence of this formidable phalanx Beaumanoir felt his captive wilt in his grasp, and indeed he himself was swept back by it, still holding on, into the muniment room, where the woman Rosa was in the act of retreating from the window. The General took command quite naturally, bidding Forsyth guard the door, while he himself advanced to the window, very stern and upright, and muttering as he went:
"What can Azimoolah have been about? He must be past his work."
But the words were hardly spoken when the subject of his censure leaped in through the window, drawing his breath quickly, but not otherwise inconvenienced by a limp bundle of humanity which he carried over his shoulder, and now proceeded to dump like a sack on the floor. After securing the window, the Pathan turned and gravely saluted the General.
"There were three others, sahib, but they are gone," he said simply. "At sight of thy servant fear seemed to fall upon them, so that they fled across the maidan like deer flushed by a cheetah. But this one was already climbed nigh to the window, so I followed, and choking him a little, brought him in." And with his foot he slightly spurned the motionless form of his prisoner, whom the Duke and Forsyth recognized as the hero of the watch-spring saw who had been surprised cutting out the panel at Beaumanoir House a week before.
"Choked him a little!" said the General with a grim chuckle. "You don't seem to have left much life in him, but it was no case for standing on ceremony. And now, madam," continued the veteran, facing round to where Beaumanoir stood with his grip on Ziegler's collar, "your disguise need hamper you no longer—that is, if you prefer to finish this business in your own person. Get the pull of your sex, you know."
"Yes, I guess that wig doesn't do justice to Cora Lestrade," interjected Senator Sherman, and with a dexterous twirl of his wrist he jerked off the elaborate head-gear which had effectually transformed the dashing lady known as Mrs. Talmage Eglinton into a repulsive old man. But it was only when feminine instinct had prompted her with a swift application of her handkerchief to remove the purple stain that had added the semblance of disease to old age that the Duke recognized his guest.
"I do not understand," he murmured, feebly.
And it seemed that Alec Forsyth, in spite of the part entrusted to him in the comedy of the crypt, had been ignorant of the identity of his antagonist, for a cry of astonishment escaped him. On the other hand, the demure smile that played round Sybil Hanbury's pretty mouth betokened a closer intimacy with the foregoings of this wonderful development. Forsyth's sharp exclamation had the effect of rousing Azimoolah's captive from his swoon. The man raised himself on his elbow, and, grasping the situation, remained quietly watchful.
"And now, your Grace, before another word is said, let me shake you by the hand right here, and thank you for all the patient courage you have shown and all the danger you have incurred to baffle as waspish a gang as ever hailed from my side of the ditch," said the Senator, suiting the action to the word, greatly to the embarrassment of the Duke, and provoking a scornful laugh from the fantastic figure in male attire.
"Why, he was one of us," she sneered. "It was only when he found he had something to lose that he backed out."