“They will not touch her. My mother’s spirit will watch that poor girl--she died in that room.” Leslie gasped. “Your mother?” she asked, in an awestricken whisper. “Come!” He was impatient, caught her by the arm and led her farther down, until she saw near at hand the gleam of the Ravensrill. “But, Harry, I can’t go any farther.” She stopped resolutely. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Where have you been all this time? Everybody has been looking for you and Dick has been terribly worried.” He laughed. (It was the laugh that the watchman heard.) “Dick is worried? That is rich!” And now, as the challenge of a distant voice came to her, she saw his face in the moonlight. He was unshaven, unkempt, grimy of face and hands; he wore no collar, and stood, a collarless man in a long frock coat with a wild appearance. Slowly she drew back, dread and fear on her face, and then he clutched her by the wrists. “If you scream I will throw you into the river and kneel on you until you are dead,” he whispered in so calm and matter-of-fact a tone that she could not believe he was serious. And yet she had an extra sense which told her that he was not only serious, but that she was in deadly peril. He kept hold of her wrist, or she would have taken to flight, though she would have little chance of escaping one who in his school days was a noted sprinter.… She remembered something else now and felt sick. Harry Chelford had captained his public school team at Bisley and had carried everything before him. This pale, anæmic youth was the greatest shot of his time. The greatest shot! She remembered the bullet that was meant for her, and he felt her dragging on his hand but said no word. She must not lose her nerve at this moment of crisis. They were making for the ruins. Near the edge of the cutting, Puttler had told her, were stationed two men; they must see her soon. But Harry went no farther than the broken tower, and here he paused and pulled the block of stone aside. Now she knew; they were going down to that dreadful underground cavern where Dick had taken her. Dick Alford knew his brother was there! She knew this long before she saw the basket, still filled with food, that stood at the bottom of the steps. LIV Harry had lit a candle, and, guided by this, she went down the steep circular stairway. “He brought me that, food--the devil!” He pointed his shaking finger to the basket. “Dick brought it?” she faltered. He nodded. “Poisoned,” he said. “But he didn’t catch me. Poisoned every bit of it!” He carefully unwrapped a white napkin and showed a dainty pile of sandwiches, took one and opened it. “You can see the crystals glittering on the meat,” he said, in so calm and matter-of-fact a tone that she almost thought she saw something glitter on the white flesh. Then he lifted the bottle and looked at it with a smile.