Dr. Cripps had the greatest possible difficulty, in his then condition, to stand by himself; but he feebly murmured his intention to shed his blood for his friend. And at that moment Tokely came in.
Now, in the stress of more personal matters, Ogledon had paid but little attention to the disjointed remarks of Mrs. Dolman, concerning the murder in the wood; and the subject had, by this time, gone clean out of his mind. Indeed, but one subject—a deadly fear for his own safety—occupied his mind at this time; so that it will readily be understood that the first words uttered by the Inspector were startling in the extreme.
The Inspector was not in the best of tempers, and was in no mood to be trifled with. He came in rapidly, closed the door and advanced towards Ogledon.
“Now, sir,” he began, “I don’t want you to compromise yourself about this matter; but business is business, and the Law is the Law. Touching this matter of Mr. Dandy Chater—this matter of murder——”
He got no further; as Ogledon, with a cry, turned swiftly, and made towards the door—Tokely turning, too, in his astonishment—Dr. Cripps, dimly and drunkenly realising that his patron was in danger, caught up the nearest weapon, which happened to be a heavy decanter, and, with a shrill scream, hurled himself upon the Inspector, and brought the decanter down with all his force upon that gentleman’s head. The unfortunate officer, with a groan, dropped flat, and lay motionless.
For a moment or two, Ogledon stood staring down at him, scarcely knowing what to do—while Cripps, mightily pleased with his performance, danced all round Tokely’s prostrate form, waving the decanter, and chanting a species of dirge. But, the seriousness of the position dawning rapidly upon Ogledon, he seized Cripps by the arm, wrenched the decanter from his grasp, and buffetted him into a sense of the enormity of his offence.
“You idiot!” he whispered, hoarsely—“a pretty thing you’ve done now. I might have stood and braved the thing out; there’s no proof against me—and suspicions are useless. But now, after this, there’s nothing for it but to make a bolt of it!—I suppose it’s my own fault, for having anything to do with a drunken little worm like yourself. Quick!—there’s no time to be lost; we must clear out of this. Come!”
Going to the door, he listened cautiously for a few moments, and then swiftly opened it. There was no one in sight, and he darted across the hall, and caught up his own and the Doctor’s hats and coats, and went back noiselessly. Tokely still lay without movement; and Ogledon dragged Cripps into his coat, and crammed his shabby hat on his head; put on his own outdoor things, and prepared to leave the place.
“Now, attend to me,” he said to Cripps. “I shall lock this door on the inside, and take the key with me; we’ll go through this window on to the terrace. If this fellow ever wakes again—of which I am extremely doubtful—it won’t be for an hour or so; and that will give us a fair start. Now—come quietly. This has been a devilish unlucky night, and it promises to be an unlucky day. I thought myself so safe; I don’t like the turn things have taken at all.”
Strolling quietly, until they were out of sight of the windows of the house, the two got clear away—Ogledon keeping a tight grip of the arm of his swaying companion. Indeed, it is possible that, before many hours had elapsed, the little man deeply regretted the part he had played in the recent adventure; for Ogledon walked him on, without mercy, mile after mile, and without paying the slightest attention to his many piteous entreaties to be allowed to pause at seductive-looking public-houses, for rest and refreshment. Later in the day, they came to a small station, within easy distance of London; and—dusty, weary, foot-sore, and ill-tempered, Cripps was glad to get into the corner of a third-class railway-carriage, and fall asleep.