There was a veritable hubbub of voices. "What's the matter with the lights?" "Where are the switches?" "h.e.l.l! that sucker is trying to put it over on us!" "The bedroom shutters--He's trying to escape."

"For Lord's sake where's the door?"

Someone found the k.n.o.b in the darkness and the bedroom door was flung open. There was a scream from Laurence. Then Hipps' voice bellowing:

"Great G.o.d! he's hanged himself."

Swinging from the lintel, shadowy against the grey light beyond was, apparently, the figure of Richard Frencham Altar dangling on a rope.

Even the perfectly trained Blayney deserted his post to leap forward and see, and in that instant of neglect, Richard and Auriole darted from the room and slammed and bolted the door.

Nor could Richard resist the temptation of lifting an exultant cry of, "Good-night, gentlemen," ere he was seized by Auriole and hurried down the stairs.

As they pa.s.sed through the front garden and ran stumbling toward the waiting car they could hear above them the sound of curses and hammer blows echoing through the house.

CHAPTER 32.

THE APPOINTED HOUR.

Hilbert Torrington was first to arrive. His big car deposited him at Crest Chambers at ten forty-five, a quarter of an hour before the time promised for Barraclough's arrival. The ever attentive Doran took his hat and coat, turned on the table lamp and provided him with a pack of Patience cards.

"You look hopeful, sir," he remarked.

"I always expect the best till I have knowledge of the worst," came the smiling rejoinder. "I trust you have quite recovered from the effects of the anaesthetic."

"Thank you, sir. But my recovery'll date from the hour the Captain gets back."

Doran liked to refer to his master by the military rank he had borne during the war.

"To be sure," said Mr. Torrington. "That will be a welcome event to all of us."

Next came Cranbourne, very anxious and ever pulling out his watch, tugging at his lower lip or pacing up and down.

"Why not take a chair?" suggested Mr. Torrington.

"Can't! I feel things y'know."

"All my life I've been feeling things without showing it," came the reflective observation. "If only I had that two of diamonds! It's sure to be the last card."

"How you can sit there playing cards!"

"I'm too old to walk about."

Cranbourne stopped and looked at him.

"Mr. Torrington," he said. "Has it occurred to you that in undertaking this thing we have been guilty of grave wrong-doing? To line our own pockets while we stayed safe at home men have gone out at the risk of their lives. We may talk of adventure--the romance of business--we may call our job by a dozen pretty names, but it a.n.a.lyses out at something fairly d.a.m.nable when we apply the supreme test."

Mr. Torrington nodded.

"And yet what is the alternative?" he asked. "Life is only a matter of diamond cut diamond."

"It's a scavenger's job," said Cranbourne. "And you can't get away from that."

"Without conflict there would be no progress."

Cranbourne shook his head angrily.

"What right have we to control other men's destinies?" he said. "Where is the justice that puts such men as ourselves in command?"

"Opportunity does that, not justice," said Mr. Torrington slowly. "My first employment was cleaning windows. I saw a man, who was so engaged, fall from a fourth floor sill into the street. I picked him up dead, carried him into the building and I asked for his job. A nasty story isn't it?"

Cranbourne snorted.

"It covers us all," he said. "We spend our lives robbing flowers from cemeteries, keeping our souls in our trousers pockets along with the other small change. Hullo!"

Doran opened the door and announced Nugent Ca.s.sis. That meant that all over the town clocks would be striking eleven.

"Any news?" he rapped out.

"None."

"But there wouldn't be," said Cranbourne. "He promised to send a message when he was nearing home. It's time he was here." The little man was plainly agitated.

Hilbert Torrington smiled at him over the carefully arranged playing cards.

"They tell me, Ca.s.sis, your wife has been indisposed. I trust she is better."

"I really don't know," came the irritable response. "You can hardly expect----"

"These trifles so easily escape us," murmured the old man.

Nugent Ca.s.sis scowled and turned to Cranbourne.

"How's that other fellow getting on? What's his name--Altar?"

"He's holding out."

"At Laurence's house?"

"I believe so."

"You've heard from the woman lately!"

"Not lately."

"I've a doubt about that woman. She's been seen a good bit with the American. I've had them watched. Nothing would surprise me less than to hear she'd given us away."