the house was quiet enough now. the whole place was plunged in darkness; even cotter had forgotten his terror and was dreaming uneasily. as for beatrice, she had thrown herself upon her bed, worn out with fatigue and anxiety and for some time she slept. her room and the dressing-room beyond were not dark, seeing that they faced the front of the house and the street lamps shone upon the windows. she lay at first unconscious of her surroundings, but by and by she grew uncomfortable and awoke with a start. she could hear and see nothing beyond the dim shadows of the various objects in the room, until gradually her eyes began to grow accustomed to the gloom and she could distinguish her dressing-table in the small room beyond. she recollected hazily that she had placed her diamond moth with the rest of the jewelry on the table. in a drowsy sort of way she was chiding herself for her carelessness when she seemed to see a hand moving noiselessly over the toilet articles. for a moment beatrice put the impression aside as a mere fancy, but kept her eyes fixed on the spot till she knew that she was no longer mistaken. somebody was in the room and bending curiously over the diamond moth. a moment later a shadowy arm waved and a second figure joined the first. the two dim outlines stood with clasped hands gazing rapturously at the moth, much as some heathen might regard a precious idol. beatrice could see the intruder's lips moving as if in prayer. evidently they had found some talisman which was engrossing their attention and probably keeping them from more serious work.
the girl lay still and rigid, too terrified to move, and incapable of uttering a syllable. for the life of her she could not have screamed, she was so overcome with dread. how long this scene lasted it was impossible for beatrice to say. she knew that danger sharp and horrible was here. then it flashed into her mind that the peril was not for her. the thought nerved her to exertion. she dragged herself from her bed and threw a wrap over her shoulders.
a new wild courage was burning in her veins. action was better than lying quaking and fearing the worst. with a firm step she crossed the floor and walked into the dressing-room. then, before she had time to speak or move, unseen hands were laid upon her shoulders and she was dragged backwards, not with violence, not with anger, but with a considerate firmness that would brook no denial. an instant later and a small blue light flickered on the floor, throwing up a sweet fragrant incense which beatrice found infinitely soothing to the senses. she seemed to rock and sway. she felt herself lifted from the floor, and then she dropped into a deep sleep and knew no more.
when she came to herself again her mind was wonderfully fresh and clear. like a flash she saw everything that had happened. like a flash it came to her that these intruders were no other than the strange visitors who had made themselves so much at home at maldon grange. beatrice was not in the least afraid; at least, she had no fear for herself. whatever those uncanny creatures were searching for, they had no quarrel with her; indeed, they had gone out of their way to save her from the consequences of her interference. but if the danger were not for her, for whom was it intended? the answer was obvious. samuel flower was the enemy. samuel flower was the victim whom these little men were tracking down in their relentless fashion. how long had she been asleep?
she looked at her watch, but there was nothing to learn from that. she partly dressed herself with a view to arousing the household. as she opened the door leading to the landing she heard sounds of a struggle outside. with unsteady hand she turned up the lights, and, locked in a deadly grip, almost at her feet, were one of the strangers and another man whom she did not recognize at the moment. as the two rolled headlong down the steps, beatrice gave a sharp cry, for she had seen the white, set face of wilfrid mercer. the thing was all over almost before she realized that it was begun. one assailant had vanished, goodness only knew where, and wilfrid lay on his back bruised, battered, and all but unconscious. thoughts for his safety uppermost in her mind, beatrice flung prudence to the winds. she flew downstairs and raised her lover's head just as he was opening his eyes. nothing seemed to matter so that he were safe, and with unfeigned thankfulness beatrice heard wilfrid mutter her name.
"you are not hurt?" she asked anxiously.
"not so very much, i think," mercer said as he struggled to his feet. "but the man nearly choked the life out of me all the same."
"what has happened?" beatrice asked. "how did you get here? what brings you in the house at this time in the morning?"
wilfrid pressed his hands to his head. he was too dazed to reply coherently. then as his mind cleared, events began to adjust themselves, and the strange panorama of the night unfolded itself slowly.
"i will tell you," he said. "i am here because i happen to know that your uncle is in imminent danger. how i got into the house doesn't much matter. i came here without ceremony, and i was making my way upstairs when i interrupted that man and had to fight for my life. but hadn't we better ascertain that your uncle is safe?"
"oh, yes," beatrice said eagerly. "i am afraid we shall not be able to get into his room. he always locks himself in and the door of his bedroom is lined with steel, as a precaution against burglars or something of that kind, so he said."
wilfrid waited to hear no more. he was quite himself by this time. followed by beatrice he went quietly up the stairs until he came to the door of her uncle's room. he tried the lock, but it resisted all his efforts. it did not seem prudent to call out in case something terrible might be going on inside.
"is there no other way?" wilfrid whispered. "is there no balcony at the back of the house, no creepers, or rain-pipes, or anything of that kind? have no fear—forewarned, forearmed."
"there is a balcony running all the way along," beatrice explained. "my uncle talks of having it removed, but he has not done so yet. i can help you through a bedroom window and you can creep along and see for yourself. but i implore you not to run into any danger."
"it is a case of life or death," wilfrid said gravely. "i will be as prudent as i can. but we must not lose time."
beatrice led the way into one of the back bedrooms and opened the window. mercer crept along in the darkness cautiously until he came to a room both windows of which were lighted. one of the blinds was partly pulled up and one of the sashes raised a few inches. from beneath came a sweet, sickly scent which caused mercer to reel as if a desire to sleep had suddenly seized him. it was only by holding his handkerchief to his mouth and nose that he was able to lie down on the balcony and peep under the blind. he could see flower lying on his bed, apparently unconscious, with a white bandage around his forehead. he could see two figures flitting about the room, like doctors during an operation. for a moment flower's two hands were raised above his head, then fell helplessly again by his side.
what infernal thing was going on? what black art was being practised by these miscreants? flesh and blood could stand it no longer. wilfrid forced the sash to its utmost capacity and dashed into the room. seizing a chair he whirled it round his head and made a wild lunge at one of the would-be assassins. at the same time he cried out for others to follow him as if he had assistance at hand. almost immediately the light was extinguished; there was a rustle of figures in the darkness and wilfrid knew that he was alone. the sweat was pouring off his face with the horror of it all. he groped round the walls until he found the switch and flooded the place once more with the welcome rays. he could see the key was inside the door. he opened it widely and called for beatrice. then he turned to the figure on the bed. the white bandage was gone from flower's head and he lay still and motionless. so far as mercer could see he did not breathe. beatrice entered full of anxiety.
"what is it?" she whispered. "is he dead?"
"i don't know," wilfrid said. "it is impossible to say. you must rouse the household at once and send for the nearest doctor or the nearest half-dozen for that matter. i want a brain specialist if he can be got. will you go at once, please. every moment is priceless."
