“I think not—no!” said Mr. Bradbury hastily. “Pray, sir, come with us. Bid your men keep on guard still, and let no one enter! Come, sir, come!”
But I hung back and called out, “Sir Gavin—Mr. Bradbury, there’s the girl—my uncle’s ward, Miss Milne! What’s chanced to her I fear to think.”
“Oh, the maid,” Sir Gavin answered, laughing. “She’s safe enough. ’Twas she opened the door for us, when we were thinking to break it down. She’s safe. She’s in the room here!”
Thus reassured, I passed with them into the dining-room. Lord, the reek of drink, and the disorder of it!—the presses open and broken, for the plate they held; the shattered glass and crystal on floor and table; bottles from the broached cellars. The silver candlesticks were gone from the chimney-piece; the mirrors starred or shivered wholly; the tapestries rent from the wall; the pictures torn down, as if the rogues had searched even behind them for any sign of treasure. By the hearth, where a few coals blackened, Evelyn Milne was sitting; the candle borne by Mr. Bradbury showed me how deathly pale she was, her hair blown all about her shoulders, her eyes feverish yet from terror and lack of sleep. She started up, as we came in; I set the box down on the table, and took her hands, and cried out, “Miss Milne! Thank God, you’re safe!”
“Ay, ay, and have served us well this night,” Mr. Bradbury declared; and Sir Gavin added gallantly, “Upon my soul she has!”
She smiled, and drew her hands from mine; looking at Mr. Bradbury, she asked, “Would you have me go, sir? Would you be alone?”
“Nay, nay,” said he, hastily. “Stay here, my dear! The house is not yet safe for you. Stay here!”
She bowed and returned to her seat. Mr. Bradbury, setting down the candle by the box, drew up a chair to the table, and dropping wearily into it, said, “Sir Gavin, with the few fellows you’ve been able to bring here, it’s well that we remain here till the dawn; it cannot be far off.”
“Ay, but all these rogues?” the justice grumbled. “Not a rat among them have we trapped. I thought to take the nest full of them. What’s chanced to the old man? What passed to-night ere we came, young John? Where’s the villain, Charles?”
“We’ll have the tale from Mr. John Craike later,” said Mr. Bradbury impatiently. “Old Mr. Craike was near to death when I left him, and he died to-night. I know not whether Charles Craike is yet in the house, or whether he’s gone sneaking away, as I take it all the old rogues have by now. Nay, Sir Gavin, I am troubled more by the coming of the woman Baynes but now, and the word she brought Charles Craike from the Stone House, and the effect of her tidings on him!”