Sperani had disappeared, like the coward that he was. He had scented a possible scrimmage, and it had seemed to him that he would be better out of the way.
No thought of quitting the house except by way of the front door had occurred to Sir Everard, nor had it struck him to ask by what means Burgo and the rest had gained admittance to the Keep at that hour of the night. There, by a fortunate chance, they found the landau which had brought back Sperani and his sister still waiting. Nobody had given the driver any instructions, and there he was. Sperani's first act on alighting had been to chain up his dogs. There was no longer any question of how Sir Everard should be got to the boat. He and Miss Roylance were assisted into the carriage, and the little procession set off at a walking pace.
The front door of the Keep had been left open, and Burgo, glancing back, could discern a tall, black-clothed figure--which, as it stood framed by the doorway, with the lamp-light thrown on it from behind, looked as if it might be chiselled out of black marble--staring straight out into the night. Then, as the carriage passed out of the gates, which one of the sailors had hurried forward to open, Burgo beheld the figure fling up its arms and then fall forward on the flagged floor.
Already the first tentative pencillings of the dawn were visible in the eastern sky.
As Burgo paced along by the side of the landau he called to mind that that day week would be the 12th of October.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
SURPRISE FOR BURGO.
Sir Everard Clinton had gone through so much, both physically and mentally, in the course of the preceding two hours that as soon as he found himself on board the yacht, the inevitable reaction set in. Mr. Marchment gave up his own cabin to him, and that he lacked nothing in the way of nursing and attention on the part of Dacia and Burgo goes without saying. He was terribly weak and low, but beyond that, there seemed nothing chronically amiss with him. "All that I need is rest--rest," he murmured more than once. It was rest of mind as much, or more perhaps, than rest of body that he stood in need of. There was nothing now to debar him of it. At length he knew that he was safe, and in that fact everything was implied.
The Naiad had weighed anchor at daybreak, and the forenoon was well advanced when Burgo went on deck to stretch his legs and enjoy a smoke. By that time they were out of sight of land. True to the promise he had given, Burgo asked no questions. To him it mattered not at all where they were, or for what port they were bound. He had achieved all that he wanted. He had rescued his uncle from the fate which had too surely threatened him, and the girl he loved was here on board with him. What more could any reasonable being long for? He felt that he would have been quite content to go on voyaging in the Naiad for an indefinite period. To-day he was more like the Burgo Brabazon of other days than he had been since the date of that memorable meeting in Great Mornington Street when he and Lady Clinton crossed weapons for the first time.
By-and-by Miss Roylance came on deck. Sir Everard was sleeping soundly, and might be left for a little while.