Roden Marsh sank back in his seat with a great sigh of contentment. However amazing it might seem, he could no longer doubt that Mrs. Jenwyn was in a position to carry out all that she had undertaken to do. Her words and manner were convincing.
About the details of the story she had come prepared to tell he cared little; it was enough for him to know that the dread burden which had weighed upon them for so many years would at length be lifted off the shoulders of his beloved foster brother, never to be reimposed. With the question of whose shoulders it was about to be transferred to he did not trouble himself at all.
But a moment later he cried out: "Shall I get there in time? Shall I arrive before it is to late?" They were questions which lit a flame of torment within him.
He took out his repeater and struck the hour. Then, protruding his head and half his body out of the cab window, he shouted to the man on the box: "Drive hard--drive fast! There will be a sovereign for you if you get there in a quarter of an hour."
The driver gave a whoop and cracked his whip. Never had the old horse in the fly been driven at such a pace before.
[CHAPTER XV.]
THE SECRET OP WYVERN TOWERS.
To return to Drelincourt. As has been said, he had the unstoppered vial to his lips, and was about to drain the contents, when the door was thrown open and Roden Marsh rushed into the room.
With one sweep of his arm he dashed the bottle from Drelincourt's hand, crying out: "Thank God, I am not too late!"
But Drelincourt gazed at him with reproachful eyes.