Then suddenly the room seemed full of people. The thongs binding his hands and feet fell to the ground. “Buzzer” Barling stood at his side.
CHAPTER XXX.
HOHENLINDEN TRENCH
A man broke quickly away from the throng of people pressing into the room. It was Francis. The Chief and Mr. Marigold were close at his heels.
“Des,” cried Francis, “ah! thank God! you are all right!”
Desmond looked in a dazed fashion from one to the other. The rapid transition from the hush of the room to the scene of confusion going on around him had left him bewildered. His glance traveled from the faces of the men gathered round his chair to the floor. The sight of Bellward, very still, hunched up with his face immersed in the thick black carpet, seemed to recall something to his mind.
“Barbara!” he murmured in a strained voice.
“She’s all right!” replied his brother, “we found her on the bed in a room on the floor below sleeping the sleep of the just. The woman’s vanished, though. I’m afraid she got away! But who’s this?”
He pointed to “Buzzer” Barling who stood stiffly at attention beside Desmond’s chair.
“Ay, who are you, young fellow” repeated Mr. Marigold coming up close to the soldier. “Ask him!” said Desmond, raising his arm, “he knows!”
The group around the door had broken up. Strangwise, his wrists handcuffed together, his hair dishevelled and his collar torn, stood there between two plain clothes men. And at him Desmond pointed.