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He tapped on one of the panels, and the drumming of his fingers gave out a hollow sound. Gurdon tapped again on the next panel, but hardly any sound came in response. He looked triumphantly at Venner. "I think we have got it at last," he said. "Do you happen to have a knife in your pocket? Unless I am greatly mistaken, the decorations around these panels come off like a bead.
There was something so utterly sad and hopeless in this that Gurdon averted his eyes from the girl's face. He glanced in the direction of the door; then it required all his self control to repress a cry, for in the comparative gloom of the passage beyond, he could just make out the figure of Vera, who stood there with her finger on her lip as if imposing silence.
Everything looked quite normal now, and as if nothing had happened. The lift boy sat in his little hut, yawning and stretching himself. It was quite evident that he knew nothing of the vile uses he had been put to. A sudden idea occurred to Gurdon. "I want you to bring the lift up to this floor," he said to the boy.
"They told me that you are busy," she said, "Just as if it mattered whether you were busy or not, when I wanted to see you." "You must go away now, Beth," the cripple said, in his softest and most tender manner. "Don't you see that I am talking with this gentleman?" The girl turned eagerly to Gurdon; she crossed the room with a swift, elastic step, and laid her two hands on him.
But, all the same, it is not without risks, and I for one should be glad to get away to that place in the country where we are going in a week or two." Gurdon heard no more. He allowed the best part of half-an-hour to pass before he ventured once more to creep through the ventilator and reach the landing in the neighborhood of the lift.
Gurdon waited to hear what his companion was going to say now. He had made up his mind to place himself implicitly in her hands, and let her decide for the best. Evidently, he had found himself in a kind of lunatic asylum, where one inhabitant at least had developed a dangerous form of homicidal mania, and he had a pretty sure conclusion that Vera had saved his life.
"I have been used to this kind of thing from a boy," the cripple said. "I could shoot you where you sit within a hair's breadth of where I wanted to hit you." "Which would be murder," Gurdon said quietly. "Perhaps it would, in the eyes of the law; but there are times when one is tempted to defy the mandates of a wise legislature.
"I think we are all in a position to stand anything you like to tell us." "You have guessed it correctly," Gurdon said. "It is all here in the Evening Herald." "What is all here?" Le Fenu demanded. "Can't you guess?" Gurdon asked. "I see you can't. It is the dramatic conclusion, the only conclusion of the story. Our late antagonist, Fenwick, has committed suicide!"
As far as he could judge, the lift went down to the basement, where, for the time being, it remained. There was a warm damp smell in the air, suggestive of fungus, whereby Gurdon judged that he must be in the vaults beneath the hotel. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could make out just in front of him a circular patch of light, which evidently was a coal shoot.
Robertson encouraging the men he had brought out. A message was sent to the fort for reinforcements, and Lieutenant Harley led out fifty of the Sikhs, and covered the retreat to the fort. In the meantime Gurdon, with his detachment and Captain Baird, were still far away on the steep side of the ravine. Dr.
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