"Good-night, Dollops. Close the door softly behind you. There's an old lady in the room beyond, and I fancy she's just gone off to bed. I'll sit here a few minutes longer, and then nip in between the sheets myself."
But the few minutes lengthened into an hour before Cleek, about to rise from his chair by the open window to knock out the ashes of his pipe upon the sill, happened to glance up and out of it. Then he stopped of a sudden, sucked in his breath, and stood stock-still, staring out in front of him as though he had gone suddenly mad.
For the darkness of that dark night had been cut suddenly by a ray of red light swung to and fro several times from the particular bit of darkness which Cleek knew was Aygon Castle; extinguished; re-lit; sent swinging across the darkness again like an arc of crimson light; and when this was done for a third time, Cleek knew that it was a signal—a signal from Maud Duggan to him—a signal, too, which meant distress. Something had happened out there in that grim darkness beyond the rim of hill and valley in that great, gaunt edifice of mediæval stone, something so serious that she had signalled for him to come, as she said she would.
He drew out his spotlight, and sent it zigzagging in the direction of the red light, just to let her know she had been seen and understood. Then, swinging round swiftly, he caught up his dark overcoat, slipped his arms into it, drew a cap low down over his head, and was off into the shadows and pelting away down the narrow tortuous lane as fast as his swift feet could carry him.
CHAPTER VIII
WHEN THE BLOW FELL
It was not an easy road Cleek traversed, for in the darkness and in the utter absence of lamps of any sort the lane became a thing of stones and pitfalls for the unwary traveller, and there were many times when he was down upon his hands and knees in the soft, sweet-smelling, heather-thatched hillside, having lost footing with the road altogether, and only his pocket-lamp kept him from absolute downfall and disaster. But the great gates were reached at last, and he saw that they had been set ajar, so that he could slip in undisturbed, if he wished—a little forethought on Maud Duggan's part for which he silently thanked her.
He slid in between them, glanced a moment up at Rhea's great bronze figure etched out against the moonlit sky and taking on a supernatural lifelikeness which was eery beyond words, and then darted up the driveway, groping his way in the shadows toward the great house which of a sudden seemed to be blazing with light from every window, as though the soul of it had suddenly been awakened out of its sleep and it had come to life in one huge simultaneous effort.
Under the tread of his light feet the gravel barely moved, and having got his bearings that same afternoon, he pelted up in the darkness toward the front door, stopped suddenly, listened, darted leftward toward the lawns, and came—phut!—up against somebody who was running in the opposite direction, swift-breathing like a man pursued, and who, having met the impact of Cleek's tautened body, stationed there for just such a purpose, bounded back again and gave out an involuntary gasp of astonishment and ill-concealed irritation.