By the time the house was gained by this little party, Mr. Grahame had been alarmed. With his son Malcolm and the Duke of St. Allborne he was hastening to the garden, when he encountered Whelks and Jackson bearing the body of Lester Vane. Almost at the same moment, the injured young man aroused from the stupor into which the blow he had received had flung him, recovered his feet, and gazed round him with an astonished air. He looked into the many eager faces bent upon his own, without recognising any of them.
The Duke of St. Allborne laid his hand upon his shoulder, and shook him, saying, at the same moment—
“Vane, wecovaw youawself, my good fellah. We aw all fwiends. I’m St. Allborne—don’t you wecog-nise me?”
The sound of his voice brought back the absent recollection of Lester Vane. He put his hand over his eyes, as though to collect his thoughts, and then he exclaimed hastily—
“I remember all now—all, distinctly, clearly.” He looked up, and addressing Mr. Grahame, he said—“My dear sir, if you will allow me to retire for a few minutes to collect myself, I will join you with the ladies in the drawing-room, where I will relate to you the strange incident in which I have, I believe, borne the worst part.”
“But, Mr. Vane,” responded Mr. Grahame quickly, “the attack you have suffered”——
“Was made by no common individual, Mr. Grahame! one who is by this time, I have no doubt, far beyond pursuit.”
“But the object, Mr. Vane?” observed Mr. Grahame, with an air of mystified wonder.
“Neither plunder nor violence,” returned Lester Vane, adding hastily—“Pray interrogate me no further now. A few minutes hence, and I will relate all that occurred. I beg now to be allowed to retire to my room.”
Mr. Grahame bowed, and directed Whelks to show Mr. Vane to his chamber, while he, with the Duke and Malcolm, his son, took their way to the drawing-room, talking over the mysterious event.