“That should not be impossible,” said Sinclair in a firm voice, and Ena looked at him gratefully.
“Finish the story, Lord Reckavile,” he continued, and the very use of the title suggested something hidden in that inscrutable mind.
“There is little more to tell,” said Halley. “Southgate and I tried to get to the castle after dark, and prowled around, but we were chased by a constable,” and he laughingly threw a glance at Brown.
“Oh, that was it, was it?” Brown spluttered without regard to grammar. “So you were the two I were after. I thought Southgate was one of them.”
“Yes, so after that I lost patience, and determined to call at the castle whatever the risk. I went boldly to the front door. Lord Reckavile never seemed to leave the place, or I would have tried to waylay him on the road. Giles opened the door for me.”
“You never mentioned a word of this, Giles,” said Fletcher angrily.
“Lord Reckavile’s callers were none of my business,” said the old man slowly. Fletcher was about to say something but Sinclair stopped him with a gesture.
“Giles showed me in,” Halley continued, “and I shall never forget Reckavile’s face when he saw me. He went deathly white, and his lip curled back and back like a wolf about to snarl, but no sound came from his lips. We stood and stared at each other in absolute silence.
“The likeness was so striking that it was almost as though I was looking into a glass. The strong Reckavile strain has risen salient and complete in spite of our mothers, though I was darker and had a touch of Italian if one had looked closely.
“He seemed to recover himself, and turned to Giles.