"Possibly. I must decide that."

Without further word, this visitor pa.s.ses out.

Making sudden preparations, Charles calls a cab and is soon at the station. In a few minutes more he is on the way to Northfield.

The substance and manner of this warning were mysteriously suggestive.

Doubtless the veiled disguise was to avoid identification or some personal complications. This woman must know something about the Thames tragedy. There is relation between her strange visit and Paul Lanier's disappearance. Paul is surely in the neighborhood of Northfield.

Charles is convinced that this visitor is one of the interesting strangers he so often has seen in the hotel dining-room. He recalls reported former mysterious shadowings at Calcutta and along the Thames.

That spying upon the Laniers at the cellar room comes vividly to mind.

How strange those declamatory utterances in hearing of his father and Esther, along sh.o.r.e of the lake. Northfield loved ones must be in imminent danger to prompt such warning.

This brooding mystery grows fearfully fascinating. It nerves Charles to intense resolve. He longs for opportunity to strike some decisive blow.

Is there time to protect those at home from impending peril? The urgent warning seemed to imply that dispatch is essential and may yet avail.

The thundering train moves too slowly. It seems ages before his destination is reached. Rushing from the car, Charles soon procures a horse, and digging the spurs into sides of the animal, gallops homeward.

At the entrance to Northfield mansion grounds his horse shies at a prostrate body just inside the gate.

Dismounting, Charles is startled at an upturned b.l.o.o.d.y face. He recognizes one of the household servants. The body is yet warm.

Charles is soon upon the porch. The door is locked. Pa.s.sing around beneath his father's room windows, he finds these closed. Through lace drapings of Esther's room, he sees glimmer of a light. All outside doors are securely fastened. He is completing circuit of the house, when a rope is seen dangling from a second-story window. Grasping this, Charles pulls hard. It is attached to some immovable object in the upper hallway. He pauses, puzzled, then says: "An exit has been planned, but how was the entrance effected? Some one pa.s.sed into the house through that hall window, and probably now lurks within. Perhaps all within have been murdered!"

Charles ascends the rope and enters the hallway. In the dim moonlight he sees a rod with hook attached. This is flexibly adjusted to the rope and drawn across lower window-casings.

Comprehending at a glance the method of entrance, he noiselessly pa.s.ses along the hall and winding aisles into a room next that occupied by Esther. The connecting door is open. Glancing at the reflecting surface of a mirror, Charles is stupefied with horror. He staggers to the door.

Knife in hand, Paul Lanier is bending over the sleeping Bessie.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "RAPTLY GAZING AT THE CHILD'S INNOCENT FACE, PAUL SOFTLY CROONS SOME CRADLE MELODY."]

Charles raises his loaded pistol, taking aim. The finger pressing lightly responsive trigger seems paralyzed.

Raptly gazing at the child's innocent face, Paul softly croons some cradle melody. Oblivious to all hazards, unmoved by murderous craze prompting this night attempt upon lives of Northfield foes, Paul gently mutters a childhood refrain, thereby seeking to lull fancied wakefulness of this sleeping waif, of whose existence until then he had not known.

Still standing at the open door, with c.o.c.ked pistol aimed at this crazed outlaw, Charles trembles violently. The sight and Paul's words unnerve his will.

The child moves upon her cot, talking disconnectedly.

"Please, Granny, don't cry! Bessie hanged on!"

Esther partially awakens. Vacantly gazing at the cot, she slumbers on.

Paul furtively looks about. Glaring at Esther, he moves toward the open door, stops, and then inspects his b.l.o.o.d.y knife. Muttering, Paul tiptoes back to Bessie's cot.

Again Charles raises his pistol, ready to fire.

Like robed priest upon ordained human sacrifice, Paul gazes at this dreaming four-year-old. Gently drawing the blade across his finger-tips, he sighs deeply. With low moan and gestured dissent, Paul again sheathes the knife. Moving away rapidly, by Charles, through adjoining room, he unerringly retraces his way to the hall window. Descending the pendent rope, Paul disappears in the darkness.

In explanation, Charles afterward said: "No one but me witnessed this scene. I followed Paul to the window and witnessed his descent. To have slain this outlaw would have been easy. Only to save life would I take this responsibility. Sight of any Northfield sleeper under Paul's uplifted knife would have nerved me to unerring shot. However, too much had been said about the necessity of Lanier exposures for reckless attack upon Paul. This worthless life is too valuable for inconsiderate squandering. Upon its precarious, oft-jeopardized tenure hang potent issues and kindred weal.

"I called one of the laborers upon the premises. Together we carried into a small building the lifeless form found at entrance to the mansion grounds.

"The dead man had been repeatedly stabbed. From his torn clothing and Paul's b.l.o.o.d.y, dirt-begrimed appearance, it was evident there had been a fierce struggle. This servant was surprised and a.s.saulted while on guard.

"I did not awaken any of the family. It was not thought prudent to follow Paul. At such dark hour the craft of this madman would elude pursuit.

"Paul had entered the house to slay his enemies, and was restrained only by sight of Bessie. This surprise had diverted his murderous thoughts, thereby saving the lives of father and Esther."

Charles and his a.s.sistant remain on guard until morning. It is not much feared that Paul will return that night, but they take precautions.

Sir Donald rises early. He is greatly surprised at seeing Charles in the library. The night's experiences are graphically narrated. Sir Donald is profoundly moved. That London warning is mysterious. Murder of the faithful servant grieves him sorely. Paul's queer entrance evinces strange cunning. That this madman with b.l.o.o.d.y knife unhindered had entered Esther's room, and only by merest, unaccountable, crazed caprice was diverted from his murderous purpose, is too horrible for thought.

To allay his father's fears requires repeated a.s.surances from Charles that both Esther and Bessie are safe. Sir Donald clings to his son's arm for support. Again looking proudly at Charles, he fondles this smiling youth, and excitedly hails him "Savior of Northfield!"

Charles restrains his father from calling Esther and Bessie.

"It will be better not to say anything about Paul's entering the house.

It would worry sister."

Servants are called, and the dead body is moved to a vacant building some distance from the mansion grounds. After official inquiry into the cause of death, the deceased is buried.

Sir Donald feels conscious-smitten. To Charles he says: "This life has been sacrificed to promote Esther's welfare. In pursuance of questionable tactics and furtherance of doubtful ends one death just has occurred. That many others have not been chronicled is surprising.

"Looking at Esther and Bessie, grat.i.tude for their preservation from Paul Lanier's murderous knife is blended with grief for the dead servant and an insistent sense of indirect, personal accounting.

"Selfish, exclusive Randolph tactics always have failed. That our beloved Esther has not fallen a victim to her father's deliberate precautions resulted mainly from accidental finding of a juvenile human estray, without known guardian or antecedents. Even that mysterious warning was far more availing for fireside defense than my fatherly solicitude and protecting care. Nothing but a strange, crazed diversion restrained that blood-stained dagger. But for that, your unerring aim would have been too late.

"I am now resolved that this insane wretch no longer shall menace human life. Lanier exposures must abide safe public interests. It now seems criminally imbecile longer to permit this madman to jeopardize lives of so many. Even Paul Lanier's own existence demands his detention in a madhouse."

Sir Donald determines that on the following day he will insist upon Paul's arrest. Only formal official inquiry as to the death of the servant prevents him taking the first train for London. This disposed of, the trip is made upon the following day.

Going to detective headquarters, Sir Donald is admitted to the chief's room. This man of many shifts is but coldly courteous. He awaits Sir Donald's explanations without interruptions. The whole tragic affair is explained, but there is no responsive suggestion.

Sir Donald urges the necessity of Paul's arrest and detention.

The chief is strangely reticent.

Sir Donald looks at him inquiringly, then detects a sneering expression.

Waiting for some response, he is silent for a few moments. Rising with dignity, Sir Donald moves toward the door. This unfeigned resentment convinces the chief that there is a mistake. Sir Donald Randolph has not been playing double. The indignant pathos of that honest face precludes dissembling. Hastening to apologize for his error, the chief informs Sir Donald that both Pierre and Paul Lanier are in custody.

"This morning the arrests were made, but without cooperation of our agency.

"Paul has been at Northfield. He haunted the sh.o.r.es of the lake. Our employe sent from London saw Paul lurking in the woods, and followed him to a steep ravine. Here Paul vanished. The spy waited, screened by some bushes, expecting to see him again. This watch was continued until daylight.

"Paul did not appear upon the following day. The employe returned to London and reported. About same hour the watcher a.s.signed to duty in neighborhood of the Lanier room saw Paul go down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs.

This was after four in the morning. Neither Lanier left the room that day or the following night.