"Some one shouting!" I exclaimed—"some one who rides a galloping horse!"
"Coming here!" added Sir Lionel. "Hark! he is at the door!"
A bell rang furiously, again and again sending its brazen clangor echoing through the great apartments and passages of Graywater.
"There goes Kennedy."
Above the sibilant roaring of the rain I could hear some one releasing heavy bolts and bars. The servants had long since retired, as also had Kâramaneh; but Sir Lionel's man remained wakeful and alert.
Sir Lionel made for the door, and I, standing up, was about to follow him, when Kennedy appeared, in his wake a bedraggled groom, hatless, and pale to the lips. His frightened eyes looked from face to face.
"Dr. Petrie?" he gasped interrogatively.
"Yes!" I said, a sudden dread assailing me. "What is it?"
"Gad! it's Hamilton's man!" cried Barton.
"Mr. Nayland Smith, sir," continued the groom brokenly—and all my fears were realized. "He's been attacked, sir, on the road from the station, and Dr. Hamilton, to whose house he was carried——"