"Miss Handyside!" A flash had shown him a white-face, wide eyes, parted lips—also a hand gripping a pretty revolver. His finger left the electric button. Impulsively he softly exclaimed: "Does it matter to you, my safety?"
Darkness and a hush for the space of a long breath, and something happened to those two young people. Then Caw joined them.
"What was it?" the girl enquired, almost coldly. "We heard shots, and I ran through the passage—father is following—and I came out by the front door, and—"
"Weren't you afraid, miss?" Caw asked on a note of admiration.
"Yes, but—" she halted.
"The only thing that has happened, Miss Handyside, so far as we have discovered, is that some ass has been setting off fireworks against the garage door," said Alan. "Anyway, we can't do anything to-night. Let's go in and find Dr. Handyside. He'll be horribly anxious about you."
"There will be a moon shortly," Caw remarked, "and I'll take a look round then, Mr. Alan."
"Right! Let us have something hot—coffee and so on—upstairs."
"Very good, sir. Your pardon, miss, but that nice pistol—"
"Oh, would you take it away from me, Caw?" she sighed. "Keep it till I ask for it."