“Whither should I ride,” my uncle cried, “than away from this house—for London? Knowing that the boy has all—damn him!—has all that should be mine”—and still he stared at the black box lying on the table.
“You do not think to ride to London,” said Mr. Bradbury. “You think to ride to the Stone House to-night. You shall not leave the house! Sir Gavin, give orders to your men! Bid them hold the door!”
I saw my uncle leap forward; the pistol gleam in his hand; his hunting crop swing high—Sir Gavin roaring out as the two old gentlemen recoiled from, him, “Galt! Any of you! Seize him!”
But the hunting crop smote down upon the lantern and the candle; instantly the room was dark; all was a confusion of rushing, struggling figures. I leaped towards the box, but was thrown back by a plunging body, and went headlong to the floor. Sir Gavin was roaring, “Hold the door! Don’t let him go! Light! You dolts! Light!”—And I, rolling on the floor, squealed out, “The box! Look to the box! Sir Gavin, Mr. Bradbury!”
A roar of voices; a smash of glass from the window; lanterns flashing in at the door. As dazed I rose to my feet, I saw that my uncle and the box of gems were gone.
Chapter XXXVI. Dawn
A half-hour thence we were in saddle—Sir Gavin, Mr. Bradbury, and I—and riding with the two runners, and four of Sir Gavin’s servants, as swiftly as we might through the dark for the Stone House. Roger Galt had not waited for us; but, taking horse, had ridden off immediately in pursuit of my uncle escaping with the jewels. We conjectured that Mr. Charles would not proceed now to the Stone House, but would ride for London, hoping to out-distance us, and lie hid there, till he might find a ship and escape for the Continent.
Ere we dared leave Craike House, we assured ourselves that the Haven was emptied of its rogues. My cousin Oliver remained with two of Sir Gavin’s folk, to guard Miss Milne, lest any of the carrion crows fly back thither. Now fully assured from my uncle’s speech and action that the Stone House held the secret of my father’s disappearance from England—that, indeed, he had returned and was held a prisoner by Martin Baynes and his fellow-rogues, Mr. Bradbury, with an activity beyond his years, was bent himself on riding thither; I—for all my bitter chagrin that the gems should have fallen into my uncle’s hands—was shaking with excitement for the thought that my father was at last come home, yet lay at the Stone House in peril of his life. The horses were gone from the stables; my uncle had ridden away on Sir Gavin’s own horse—to the justice’s choler; he must needs mount his servant’s horse, and I the other fellow’s.
We rode out then in the dark; swept down the avenue, and out the open gates—the woods yet roaring about us in the straining wind, though the strength of the gale had abated.
So long as we held to the open road and to the byeways by which Roger Galt had brought me off the moors on the morn of my escape from the Stone House, we went at high speed—not pausing or drawing rein. And the wind blowing from the sea smote roundly on us; the beating of the breakers on the cliff rolled up like thunder; once, as we passed in view of the sea, I saw a red flash out of the blackness, and thought that, belike, the King’s ship fired upon Blunt’s brig; but I could be sure of nothing for the pitch blackness or distinguish sound of cannon over the thunderous beat of the seas and crying of the wind.