"Send Jobling down," said Slyne, pulling on an overcoat to cover his evening clothes, and the stout solicitor gave voice to a very heartrending groan as he glared blankly out into the black gulf beyond the window.
"I won't go—" he was beginning when Captain Dove ran furiously at him, clutched him round the waist in a gorilla-like grip, and thrust him, feet foremost, struggling insanely, over the sill.
"Catch hold of the cord—both strands—or I'll drop you!" snarled the old man. "Down you go, now. You'll find a knot every foot or so. You needn't slip unless you force me to start you with a slam on the head." And he stood watching, grimly amused, while his moaning victim sank out of sight, very gradually.
In a few moments the weight on the rope relaxed.
"Are you there?" he demanded, and had to shout the question again at the top of his voice, so strong was the wind.
"Yes, all right," the answer came back, very faint but palpably freighted with helpless wrath.
"Come on, then, Slyne," ordered Captain Dove, and himself prepared to follow the injured lawyer. "What's that for?" he called in through the window. Slyne was busy securing a bundle about his own shoulders.
"Some spare wraps," Slyne shouted back from between set teeth. "We're going to take Sallie away with us. On you go—I'll be right after you."
Nor had the other two long to wait till he came scrambling down in his turn. And, as soon as they had retrieved their rope, they followed his lead through the darkness.
The three fugitives made their way in the teeth of the wind along the battlements to a point overlooking the terrace that lies at the back of the banquet-hall. And there again their rope stood them in good stead. Slyne thanked his stars that he had studied all the intricacies of the castle so thoroughly, as he led the way, with infinite precaution, from the terrace into the empty passage down which they crept as far as the service-pantry behind the gun-room.