Neale half drew the revolver from his pocket. But, as he was about to step from behind the screen, a sudden step sounded on the gravel outside the outer door, and he shrank back, watching. The door opened--was thrown back with some violence--and at the same instant Joseph darted from the inner room, livid with anger, to confront Gabriel Chestermarke. That the younger man had not expected to encounter the elder was instantly evident to Neale. Joseph drew back, step by step, watching his uncle, until his back was against the door through which he had just rushed. His hand went out behind him and pulled the door to, heavily. And as it closed he spoke--and Neale knew that there was fear in his voice. "What--what--is it?" he got out. "When did you come in here? Why----" Gabriel Chestermarke had come to a halt in the middle of the floor, and he was standing very still. His face was paler than ever, and his eyes burned in their deep-set sockets like live coals. And suddenly he lifted a forefinger and pointed it straight at his nephew. "Thief!" he said, with a quietness which was startlingly impressive to the excited spectator. "Thief! Thief and liar--and murderer, for aught I know! But you are found out. Scoundrel!--you stole those securities! You stole those jewels! Don't trifle--don't attempt to dispute! I know! You got the jewels last Saturday night--you took those securities at the same time. You may have murdered that man Hollis for anything I know to the contrary--probably you did. But--no fencing with me! Now speak! Where are the jewels? Where are those securities? And--where is Horbury! Answer!--without lying. You devil!--I tell you I know--_know_! I have seen Mrs. Carswell!" Gabriel had moved a little as he went on speaking--moved nearer to his nephew, still pointing the incriminating and accusing finger at him. And Joseph had moved, too--backward. He was watching his uncle with a queer expression. Neale saw the tip of his tongue emerge from his lips, as if the lips had become dry, and he wanted to moisten them. And suddenly his face changed, and Neale, closely watching him, saw his hand go quickly to his breast pocket, and caught the gleam of a revolver.... Neale was a cricketer--of reputation and experience. On a felt-covered stand close by him lay a couple of heavy spherical objects, fashioned of some shining-surfaced metal and about the size of a cricket ball, which he had previously noticed and handled in looking round. He snatched one of them up now, and flung it hard and straight at Joseph Chestermarke, intending to stun him. But for once in a way he missed his mark; the missile crashed against the wall behind. And then came a great flash, and the roar of all the world going to pieces, and a mighty lifting and upheaving--and he saw and felt and knew no more. CHAPTER XXX WRECKAGE