“Don’t touch it, Mrs. Yorke!” cried Violet in a clear, ringing voice. “It is poisoned!”
Quick as a flash, out went the light, leaving the room in total darkness. A tall form glided swiftly into the room, and Violet felt herself seized in strong arms, and a hand pressed over her mouth, and then she was borne swiftly away.
When Leonard Yorke and Jessie Glyndon, startled by that awful shriek, reached Mrs. Yorke’s room, they found her upon the bed in strong convulsions, and old Betty in a dead swoon upon the floor.
And Violet—where was she?
CHAPTER XXV.
A TERRIBLE SECRET.
Violet felt herself borne rapidly away in the strong arms which held her; away, she knew not whither. It was melodramatic; it was like a scene from a sensational novel; but this recollection did not lessen the poor girl’s terror. In vain she struggled and tried to shriek aloud for help; the heavy hand closed tighter down upon her month; her breath grew shorter and fainter, and at last, in sheer self-defense, she ceased to struggle or to try and raise an alarm. At length, after what seemed an endless time, her abductor came to a halt, and she was placed upon her feet.
“There, my lady,” said a harsh voice in her ear, “you are safe at last—safe in my hands.”
That voice, that hated voice! She realized the truth at once; she was in the power of Gilbert Warrington. A cold, sickening sensation crept over her heart and chilled the blood within her veins. In the power of this villain, what hope was left for her? Where was he taking her? Why had he abducted her? And what was the meaning of the words to which she had listened between old Betty Harwood and Warrington? She felt her heart stand still with terror, then with a mad bound it throbbed on once more. Panting in breathless silence, she extended her hands; they came in contact with the trunk of a tree. The cloak was removed from her eyes; she glanced wildly around her. She was in the woods somewhere behind Yorke Towers, alone in the night with Gilbert Warrington.