Now Ada had gained the door of her own room, and with loathing and horror, she tried in vain to disengage herself from Gray.
“They come! Ah, they come!” suddenly cried Gray, springing to his feet. “Now, Ada, hear the secret you pine to know!”
“The secret?” cried Ada.
“Yes, I am your father. These men will apprehend me for murder; but I am your father.”
For an instant Ada passed her hands upon her eyes, as if to shut out the hideous phantasma of a dreadful dream, and then, with a cry of exquisite anguish, she rushed through the folding doors and closed them immediately after her.
“That—that will succeed,” gasped Gray, wiping from his brow the cold perspiration that hung there in bead-like drops. “The lie is effective; she may not believe it, but now she has not time to think. She will save me now!”
He rushed to the door of the room which led to the staircase, and in a moment locked it. Then he stood with his arms folded, and an awful demoniac smile played upon his pale and ghastly face, awaiting the issue of the next few minutes, which comprised to him the fearful question of life or death.
CHAPTER XXV.
The Escape.—Taunts.—The Confession.—Learmont’s Rage and Discomfiture.
But few moments remained to Jacob Gray for sad or exultant communion with his own thoughts. A heavy blow from without dashed the door open, and Learmont, with a drawn sword in his hand, closely followed by Britton, carrying a lighted link, entered the room.