Now a rule of the house ordained that all doors should be locked and lower windows latched at midnight. A night watchman made certain rounds each hour, pressing a key into indicating-clocks at various points to show that he had been alert. Mortimer Fenley had been afraid of fire; there was so much old woodwork in the building that it would burn readily, and a short circuit in the electrical installation was always possible, though every device had been adopted to render it not only improbable but harmless. After midnight the door bells and others communicated with a switchboard in the watchman"s room; and a burglary alarm, which the man adjusted during his first round, rang there continuously if disturbed.
Sylvia, leaving the door of her bedroom ajar, went to the servants"
quarters by a back staircase. There she found MacBain, the watchman, eating his supper.
"I don"t feel as though I could sleep," she explained, "so I am going out into the park for a while. I"ll unlatch one of the drawing-room windows and disconnect the alarm; and when I come in again I"ll tell you."
"Very well, miss," said MacBain. "It"s a fine night, and you"ll take no harm."
"I"m not afraid of rabbits, if that is what you mean," she said lightly, for the very sound of the man"s voice had dispelled vapors.
"Oh, there"s more than rabbits in the park tonight, miss. Two policemen are stationed in the Quarry Wood."
"Why?" she said, with some surprise.
"They don"t know themselves, miss. The Inspector ordered it. I met them coming on duty at ten o"clock. They"ll be relieved at four. They have instructions to allow no one to enter the wood. That"s all they know."
"If I go there, then, shall I be locked up?"
"Not so bad as that, miss," smiled MacBain. "But I"d keep away from it if I was you. "Let sleeping dogs lie" is a good motto."
"But these are not sleeping dogs. They"re wide-awake policemen."
"Mebbe, miss. They have a soft job, I"m thinking. Of course----"
The man checked himself, but Sylvia guessed what was pa.s.sing in his mind.
"You were going to say that the wretch who killed my uncle hid in that wood?" she prompted him.
"Yes, miss, I was."
"He is not there now. He must have run away while we were too terrified to take any steps to capture him. Who in the world could have wished to kill Mr. Fenley?"
"Ah, miss, there"s no knowing. Those you"d least suspect are often the worst."
MacBain shook his head over this cryptic remark; he glanced at a clock. It was five minutes to twelve.
"It"s rather late, miss," he hinted. Sylvia agreed with him, but she was young enough to be headstrong.
"I sha"n"t remain out very long," she said. "I ought to feel tired, but I don"t; and I hope the fresh air will make me sleepy."
To reach the drawing-room, she had to cross the hall. Its parquet floor creaked under her rapid tread. A single lamp among a cl.u.s.ter in the ceiling burned there all night, and she could not help giving one quick look at the oaken settle which stood under the cross gallery; she was glad when the drawing-room door closed behind her.
She had no difficulty with the window, but the outer shutters creaked when she opened them. Then she pa.s.sed on to the first of the Italian terraces, and stood there irresolutely a few minutes, gazing alternately at the sky and the black ma.s.ses of the trees. At first she was a trifle nervous. The air was so still, the park so solemn in its utter quietude, that the sense of adventure was absent, and the funeral silence that prevailed was almost oppressive.
Half inclined to go back, woman-like she went forward. Then the sweet, clinging scent of a rose bed drew her like a magnet. She descended a flight of steps and gained the second terrace. She thought of Trenholme and the picture, and the impulse to stroll as far as the lake seized her irresistibly. Why not! The gra.s.s was short, and the dew would not be heavy. Even if she wetted her feet, what did it matter, as she would undress promptly on returning to her room?
Besides, she had never seen the statue on just such a night, though she had often visited it by moonlight.
La Rochefoucauld is responsible for the oft quoted epigram that the woman who hesitates is lost, and Sylvia had certainly hesitated. At any rate, after a brief debate in which the arguments were distinctly one-sided, she resolved that she might as well have an object in view as stroll aimlessly in any other direction; so, gathering her skirts to keep them dry, she set off across the park.
She might have been halfway to the lake when a man emerged from the same window of the drawing-room, ran to the terrace steps, stumbled down them so awkwardly that he nearly fell, and swore at his own clumsiness in so doing. He negotiated the next flight more carefully, but quickened his pace again into a run when he reached the open. The girl"s figure was hardly visible, but he knew she was there, and the distance between pursued and pursuer soon lessened.
Sylvia, wholly unaware of being followed, did not hurry; but she was const.i.tutionally incapable of loitering, and moved over the rustling gra.s.s with a swiftness that brought her to the edge of the lake while the second inmate of The Towers abroad that night was yet a couple of hundred yards distant.
In the dim light the statue a.s.sumed a lifelike semblance that was at once startling and wonderful. Color flies with the sun, and the white marble did not depend now on tint alone to differentiate it from flesh and blood. Seen thus indistinctly, it might almost be a graceful and nearly nude woman standing there, and some display of will power on the girl"s part was called for before she approached nearer and stifled the first breath of apprehension. Then, delighted by the vague beauty of the scene, with senses soothed by the soft plash of the cascade, she decided to walk around the lake to the spot where Trenholme must have been hidden when he painted that astonishingly vivid picture. Its bold treatment and simplicity of note rendered it an easy subject to carry in the mind"s eye, and Sylvia thought it would be rather nice to conjure up the same effect in the prevailing conditions of semi-darkness and mystery. She need not risk tearing her dress among the briers which clung to the hillside. Knowing every inch of the ground, she could follow the sh.o.r.e of the lake until nearly opposite the statue, and then climb a few feet among the bushes at a point where a zigzag path, seldom used and nearly obliterated by undergrowth, led to the clump of cedars.
She was still speeding along the farther bank when a man"s form loomed in sight in the park, and her heart throbbed tumultuously with a new and real terror. Who could it be? Had some one seen her leaving the house? That was the explanation she hoped for at first, but her breath came in sharp gusts and her breast heaved when she remembered how one deadly intruder at least had broken into that quiet haven during the early hours of the past day.
Whoever the oncomer might prove to be, he was losing no time, and he was yet some twenty yards or more away from the statue--itself separated from Sylvia by about the same width of water--when she recognized, with a sigh of relief, the somewhat c.u.mbrous form and grampus-like puffing of Robert Fenley.
Evidently he was rather blear-eyed, since he seemed to mistake the white marble Aphrodite for a girl in a black dress; or perhaps he a.s.sumed that Sylvia was there, and thought he would see her at any moment.
"I say, Sylvia!" he cried. "I say, old girl, what the deuce are you doin"--in the park--at this time o" night?"
The words were clear enough, but there was a suspicious thickness in the voice. Robert had been drinking, and Sylvia had learned already to abhor and shun a man under the influence of intoxicants more than anything else in the wide world. She did not fear her "cousin." For years she had tolerated him, and that day she had come to dislike him actively, but she had not the least intention of entering into an explanation of her actions with him at that hour and under existing circ.u.mstances. She had recovered from her sudden fright, and was merely annoyed now, and bent her wits to the combined problems of escape and regaining the house unseen.
Remembering that her white face and hands might reveal her whereabouts she turned, bent and crept up the slope until a bush afforded welcome concealment. Some thorns scratched her ankles, but she gave no heed to such trivial mishaps. A rabbit jumped out from under her feet, and it cost something of an effort to repress a slight scream; but--to her credit be it said--she set her lips tightly, and was almost amused by the game of hide and seek thus unexpectedly thrust on her.
Meanwhile Robert had reached the little promontory on which the statue was poised, and no Sylvia was in sight.
"Sylvia!" he cried again. "Where are you? No use hidin", because I know you"re here! Dash it all, if you wanted a bit of a stroll why didn"t you send for me? You knew I"d come like a shot--eh, what?"
He listened and peered, but might as well have been deaf and blind for aught he could distinguish of the girl he sought.
Then he laughed; and a peculiar quality in that chuckle of mirth struck a new note of anxiety, even of fear, in Sylvia"s laboring heart.
"So you won"t be good!" he guffawed thickly. "Playin" Puss in the Corner, I suppose? Very well, I give you fair warnin". I mean to catch you, an" when I do I"ll claim forfeit.... _I_ don"t mind. Fact is, I like it. It"s rather fun chasin" one"s best girl in the dark....
Dashed if it isn"t better"n a bit out of a French farce.... Puss!
Puss!... I see you.... Hidin" there among the bushy bushes.... Gad!
How"s that for a test after a big night? Bushy bushes! I must not forget that. Try it on one of the b-boys.... Now, come out of it!...
Naughty puss! I"ll get you in a tick, see if I don"t!"
He was keeping to the track Sylvia herself had taken, since the lie of the land was familiar to him as to her. Talking to himself, cackling at his own flashes of wit, halting after each few paces to search the immediate neighborhood and detect any guiding sound, he was now on the same side of the lake as the girl, and coming perilously near. At each step, apparently, he found the growing obscurity more tantalizing. He still continued calling aloud: "Sylvia! Sylvia, I say! Chuck it, can"t you? You must give in, you know. I"ll be grabbin" you in a minute."
There were not lacking muttered e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, which showed that he was losing his temper.
Once he swore so emphatically that she thought he was acknowledging himself beaten; but some glimmering notion that she was crouching almost within reach, and would have the laugh of him in the morning, flogged him to fresh endeavor. Now he was within ten yards, eight, five! In another few seconds his hand might touch her, and she quivered at the thought. If concealment could not save her she must seek refuge in flight, since therein lay a sure means of escape. Not daring to delay, she tried to stand upright, but felt a pull on her dress as if a hand were detaining her. It was only a brier, insidiously entangled in a fold of her skirt; but she was rather excited now, and there was little to be gained by excess of caution, for any rapid movement must betray her. Stooping, she caught the thorn-laden branch and tore it out of the soft material.
Fenley heard the ripping sound instantly.
"Ha! There you are, my beauty! Got you this time!" he cried, and plunged forward.
Sylvia sprang from her hiding-place like a frightened fawn and valiantly essayed the steep embankment. Therein she erred. She would have succeeded in evading her pursuer had she leaped down to the open strip of turf close to the water, dodging him before he realized what was happening. As it was, the briers spread a hundred cruel claws against her; with each upward step she encountered greater resistance; desperation only added to her panic, and she struggled frenziedly.
The man, unhampered by garments such as clogged each inch of Sylvia"s path, pushed on with renewed ardor. He no longer spoke, for his hearing alone could help him now, the girl"s black-robed form being utterly merged in the dense shadow cast by brushwood and cedars. He, however, was silhouetted against the luminous gray of the park, and Sylvia, casting a frantic glance over her shoulder, saw him distinctly. In her distress she fancied she could feel his hot breath on her neck; and when some unusually venomous branch clutched her across the knees, and rendered farther movement impossible until her dress was extricated, she wailed aloud in anger and dismay.
"How dare you!" she cried, and her voice was tremulous and broken. "I warn you that if you persist in following me I shall strike you!"
"Will you, by Jove!" cried Robert elatedly. "I"d risk more than that, my dear! A kiss for every blow! Only fair, you know! Eh, what!"
On he came. He was so near that in one active bound he would be upon her, but he advanced warily, with hands outstretched.