When they were alone, Heritage's voice took a different key. "We're in
for it, Dogson, old man. There's no doubt these three scoundrels expect
reinforcements at any moment, and with them will be one who is the devil
incarnate. He's the only thing on earth that that brave girl fears. It
seems he is in love with her and has pestered her for years. She hated
the sight of him, but he wouldn't take no, and being a powerful
man--rich and well-born and all the rest of it--she had a desperate
time. I gather he was pretty high in favour with the old Court. Then
when the Bolsheviks started he went over to them, like plenty of other
grandees, and now he's one of their chief brains--none of your callow
revolutionaries, but a man of the world, a kind of genius, she says, who
can hold his own anywhere. She believes him to be in this country, and
only waiting the right moment to turn up. Oh, it sounds ridiculous, I
know, in Britain in the twentieth century, but I learned in the war that
civilisation anywhere is a very thin crust. There are a hundred ways by
which that kind of fellow could bamboozle all our law and police and
spirit her away. That's the kind of crowd we have to face."
"Did she say what he was like in appearance?"
"A face like an angel--a lost angel, she says."
Dickson suddenly had an inspiration.
"D'you mind the man you said was an Australian--at Kirkmichael? I
thought myself he was a foreigner. Well, he was asking for a place he
called Darkwater, and there's no sich place in the countryside. I
believe he meant Dalquharter. I believe he's the man she's feared of."
A gasped "By Jove!" came from the darkness. "Dogson, you've hit it. That
was five days ago, and he must have got on the right trail by this time.
He'll be here to-night. That's why the three have been lying so quiet
to-day. Well, we'll go through with it, even if we haven't a dog's
chance. Only I'm sorry that you should be mixed up in such a hopeless
business."
"Why me more than you?"
"Because it's all pure pride and joy for me to be here. Good God, I
wouldn't be elsewhere for worlds. It's the great hour of my life. I
would gladly die for her."
"Tuts, that's no' the way to talk, man. Time enough to speak about dying
when there's no other way out. I'm looking at this thing in a business
way. We'd better be seeing the ladies."
They groped into the pitchy hall, somewhere in which a Die-Hard was on
picket, and down the passage to the smoking-room. Dickson blinked in the
light of a very feeble lamp and Heritage saw that his hands were
cumbered with packages. He deposited them on a sofa and made a ducking
bow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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