“Be careful not to press the button, because when the light is switched on the shot is fired! Only you might require it. One never knows! Come on.”
May Cranston walked noiselessly with us, while in front the three men stalked quietly, speaking only in low whispers. Soon we came to a path which led into a great park, which we skirted, keeping still in the shadow of the trees, for the moon, though nearly gone, still shed some unwelcome light. The silence was only broken by our footsteps on the leaves. Silhouetted against the sky was the magnificent old castle-like mansion with many turrets in which dwelt the world’s mystery man of finance.
At last we approached quite close to the house, and, crossing the broad terrace, we halted at the direction of our guide who had acted as footman there.
Before us was a row of long French windows. One of these the man known as Sam attacked in a methodical way with a short steel jimmy, and in a few moments he had noiselessly opened it, and while somebody showed a torch, we all entered what was, I found, a long and luxurious drawing-room.
“Mr. Hargreave! You remain here!” said the girl Cranston, who now assumed the leadership. “If occasion arises don’t hesitate to use your torch. All you have to do is to keep this way of retreat open. Leave all the rest to us.”
Then, still guided by the ex-footman, she disappeared with the four men.
What was intended I could not guess. We had broken into one of the most magnificent houses in England, and no doubt an extensive burglary had been planned.
I waited in the big, dark room for nearly twenty minutes, when suddenly I heard heavy, stumbling footsteps returning, and became conscious that the men, aided by the woman, were carrying with them a heavy human form. It was enveloped in black cloth and trussed up firmly with stout rope.
“Say, are you all right, Mr. Hargreave?” inquired the American girl-crook.
I replied in the affirmative, whereupon she whispered: “Good! Come right along. It’s worked beautifully. The old boy started up to see me at his bedside, and put on his dressing-gown to talk to me. Oh! it was real fun! He dared only speak in a whisper for fear the servants overheard. I told him I was thirsty, and he took me into his study. We had drinks, and I put him quietly to sleep with a couple of drops of the soothing syrup. When he comes to himself he’ll have the shock of his life. Six months ago in Philadelphia—when I wanted some money—he defied me. Now it will cost the old skinflint a very big sum if he wants to see the light of day again! If he won’t pay up, well, we are none the worse off, are we?”