CHAPTER IX
[I KNOW THE WAY AT LAST]
For a moment, after that astounding statement by Murray Olivant, we stood transfixed, staring at him as he spread his arms across the door and faced us defiantly. I do not think that he had imagined his words would have such an effect; our amazed silence showed him in a moment that the game was with him. In a limp fashion I was clinging to young Millard, whose fury, as it seemed, had suddenly relaxed, leaving him helpless.
"Here?" gasped the boy, in a sort of horrified whisper.
"Yes!" cried Olivant loudly. "Here—by her own choice, and of her own free will. I suppose the girl can choose for herself—and in this case, she has chosen wisely. Like every one else in this world, she knows on which side her bread is buttered. Now, get out of my place," he added, advancing towards us: "open the door there, you; show these people out."
Young Arnold Millard seemed suddenly to recover himself and his strength at the same time; I felt his muscles hardening under my grip. Then, with an inarticulate shout, he hurled himself straight at Olivant; and in a moment was fighting madly with Dawkins and myself to get at him. I remember noticing even then that Fanshawe stood aside, wringing his hands helplessly, and moistening his dry lips with his tongue.
"Let me go! It's a lie—I know it's a lie! Let me go!" shouted the boy, battling like a madman with us.
The frightened manservant had run out of the room, crying something as he went; it seemed an incredibly short space of time before he came hurrying in again, followed by a policeman. In a dexterous fashion this latter contrived to get between the boy and his enemy; interposed his solid official bulk between them.
"Now then—now then, gentlemen!" he said quietly. "What's the trouble here?"
Murray Olivant was the first to speak. "This man has forced his way into my rooms, and has threatened me," he said quickly. "I want him removed."
The constable glanced from one to the other; his face was impassive. "Do you know the man, sir?"