“The two minutes are up!” cried that mocking voice with a low, exultant laugh. “Good-bye!”
Next second a loud hissing came from the stove as the deadly gas, released suddenly, filled the room. Geoffrey caught a whiff of it, and instantly sank to the ground, inert and unconscious.
When they recovered consciousness they both found themselves in hospital wards, attended by doctors, and both learned later that it was Sylvia’s shriek which saved them.
Monsieur Guiette had fortunately suspected that Sylvia had met with foul play, and wondering whether some mishap might not occur to Geoffrey, had ordered his men to keep strict observation, unknown to the young Englishman, with the result that in the very nick of time they had been able to rescue both of them from that fatal room, and unearth a desperate and widespread plot. They also arrested the dangerous Hungarian revolutionist, Hermann Stadler—who had rented the château furnished—as well as the young motor driver, and the pretty girl, Stadler’s niece, who had so cleverly posed as the secretary to the Director of Civil Aviation. In a wood at the back of the château they found in a secluded spot an open grave ready for the reception of the victims!
The wireless tests at Bouvignes were delayed for two days until Falconer recovered, but at them Monsieur Marvaut—who had just returned from France—was present, and all went off most satisfactorily, the results being declared to be greatly to the credit of Geoffrey Falconer.
CHAPTER IX
THE THREE BAD MEN
Geoffrey Falconer, Mrs. Beverley, and Sylvia were spending a week-end at Tansor, in Northamptonshire, with George Barclay, a friend of the South American widow, who rented a hunting-box and rode regularly with the Fitzwilliam Hounds.
On the night of their arrival when they sat down to dinner with Barclay and his go-ahead wife and the latter’s cousin, a pretty girl named May Farncombe, all were full of expectation of some good runs. To Geoffrey, who had recently returned from a mission abroad, the fine English country house, with its old-world atmosphere, its old oak, old silver, and air of solidity, was delightful after the flimsy gimcracks of foreign life. The young radio-engineer had earned praise from Marconi House for the manner in which certain missions abroad had been carried out, and he was rapidly advancing in the world of wireless.