Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in thedistance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set outin pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery, and thecorridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along until we hadcome into the other wing. We were just in time to catch a glimpseof the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as he tiptoeddown the passage. Then he passed through the same door asbefore, and the light of the candle framed it in the darkness andshot one single yellow beam across the gloom of the corridor. Weshuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before we daredto put our whole weight upon it. We had taken the precaution ofleaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old boards snappedand creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossiblethat he should fail to hear our approach. However, the man isfortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupied in thatwhich he was doing. When at last we reached the door and peepedthrough we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand,his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as I hadseen him two nights before.
We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is aman to whom the most direct way is always the most natural. Hewalked into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up fromthe window with a sharp hiss of his breath and stood, livid andtrembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the white maskof his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he gazed fromSir Henry to me.
“What are you doing here, Barrymore?”
“Nothing, sir.” His agitation was so great that he could hardlyspeak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking ofhis candle. “It was the window, sir. I go round at night to see thatthey are fastened.”
“On the second floor?”
“Yes, sir, all the windows.”
“Look here, Barrymore,” said Sir Henry, sternly; “we have madeup our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save youtrouble to tell it sooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies!
What were you doing at that window?”
The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung hishands together like one who is in the last extremity of doubt andmisery.
“I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window.”
“And why were you holding a candle to the window?”
“Don’t ask me, Sir Henry—don’t ask me! I give you my word, sir,that it is not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned noone but myself I would not try to keep it from you.”
A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from thetrembling hand of the butler.
“He must have been holding it as a signal,” said I. “Let us see ifthere is any answer.” I held it as he had done, and stared out intothe darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black bankof the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor, for the moon wasbehind the clouds. And then I gave a cry of exultation, for a tinypin-point of yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil, andglowed steadily in the centre of the black square framed by thewindow.
“There it is!” I cried.
“No, no, sir, it is nothing—nothing at all!” the butler broke in; “Iassure you, sir——”
“Move your light across the window, Watson!” cried the baronet.
“See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that itis a signal? Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder,and what is this conspiracy that is going on?”
The man’s face became openly defiant.
“It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell.”
“Then you leave my employment right away.”
“Very good, sir. If I must I must.”
“And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamedof yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundredyears under this roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plotagainst me.”
“No, no, sir; no, not against you!” It was a woman’s voice, andMrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband,was standing at the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirtmight have been comic were it not for the intensity of feelingupon her face.
“We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack ourthings,” said the butler.
“Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, SirHenry—all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake andbecause I asked him.”
“Speak out, then! What does it mean?”
“My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot lethim perish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him that foodis ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot towhich to bring it.”
“Then your brother is—”
“The escaped convict, sir—Selden, the criminal.”
“That’s the truth, sir,” said Barrymore. “I said that it was not mysecret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you have heardit, and you will see that if there was a plot it was not against you.”
This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions atnight and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both staredat the woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidlyrespectable person was of the same blood as one of the mostnotorious criminals in the country?
