Jack started. More money than he required for his wants in the house! So near him! Oh, if he only had it! He shook his arm free with impatience.
"No, no, I sha'n't do that," said he.
"Very well," said Cyril. "But you will do nothing without consulting me? Is that understood?"
Jack nodded his head and, turning quickly, stared blindly across the fields that sloped and stretched from the terrace. He didn't see them. His brain was working just then as it had never worked before. Cyril's words about the money had raised a sudden storm of temptation in him which seemed to carry him out of himself. He must try to think--to decide.
At midnight Cyril turned in, but could not sleep; his thoughts were too busily occupied with Madge, Jack, and the present uncertainty of his own future. He had heard the clock in the little sitting-room adjoining chime every hour from midnight to three. Then a strange thing happened. As he lay broad awake in the dark, a slender pencil of yellow light stole across the carpet from his door. Jack's room was next to his. He heard no sound in the corridor, though he sat up in his bed and listened intently. The pencil of light remained stationary a few moments, then wavered, and finally, sweeping slowly round the room, disappeared.
Something prompted Cyril to rise and investigate. Putting on his dressing-gown and slippers, he noiselessly crossed his room and looked out. The feeble yellow light was dancing on the ceiling of the corridor, but the bearer of it, unseen, was already descending the broad oak staircase.
Cyril hurried quietly along the corridor and, looking over the balustrade, saw Jack. He was at the foot of the stairs, and about to enter the lower corridor.
Cyril remained where he was in the darkness a few moments, when the light began to reappear and a cool breath of air swept up the stair.
Jack must have opened the French window which gave access to the garden. He now approached the foot of the stair with stealthy tread; but, instead of mounting it, he passed on in the direction of the other wing.
Cyril felt instinctively that something was wrong, and descending the stairs he followed in Jack's wake. Turning the corner of the corridor he was just in time to see the young man insert a key in the lock of the study door, and then enter.
By the time Cyril had arrived Jack had placed his candle on the writing-table and was stooping, with his back to the door, in front of his father's safe, which he had just opened.
This safe was of peculiar construction. For the convenience of the doctor it opened by means of the simple pressure of a small button in the wainscot. But the room in itself was a safe, for the door was of steel with a powerful lock, and the one window was heavily shuttered within and barred without.
All unconscious of a watcher, Jack was cautiously engaged in disconnecting the wires switched on to an alarm in the doctor's room above, when Cyril, unable to contain his feelings any longer, stepped forward.
[Illustration: "JACK WAS CAUTIOUSLY ENGAGED IN DISCONNECTING THE WIRES."]
"Jack!" he exclaimed, sternly, "what is the meaning of this?"
Jack bounded to his feet in horror. His hand fell nervelessly from the stud he had been manipulating, and, catching in one of the drawers, drew it partially open. It was sufficient to actuate the mechanism. A faint whirr in the room above responded to the movement of the drawer; and at the same time the study door, as if impelled by an invisible hand, swung quickly to and closed with a faint click.
The two young men were prisoners. There was no means of egress except by the door, and that could only be opened now from the outside. The doctor's burglar trap had fulfilled its purpose admirably.
For the space of two or three moments the pair stood motionless facing each other, Jack had gripped the back of the doctor's study chair and was staring with haggard eyes at the door. Then suddenly, with a half-frenzied exclamation, he threw himself at it and tore desperately with his fingers at its smooth, hard surface. It was of no use. He fell back with a groan of despair and, dropping heavily into a chair, covered his face with his hands.
"Good Heaven! My father!--Madge! What will they think of me?" said he, hoarsely, as he passed his hand over his damp forehead. "Oh, I must have been mad--mad!"
Cyril Wayne looked down at the wretched Jack, half pitying, half despising him. Was this crouching, would-be thief to become Madge's husband? What a match! Was it not for the best that the innocent girl should be undeceived before it was too late? But the cruelty of it! He shrank involuntarily from the idea of witnessing the death-blow that was to be dealt at her affection. He pictured to himself a misery, an anguish, a hundred-fold greater than this cowering wretch was capable of feeling. Oh, it was impossible!
"Jack!" said he, stooping suddenly and shaking the abject figure by the shoulder. "Look up, man! Do you hear?"
Jack lifted his head and stared at Cyril stupidly.
"Just collect your wits and listen to me," said Cyril, imperiously, as he fixed Jack's gaze with his own. "If you get out of this scrape scot-free--you understand?"--Jack nodded hungrily--"will you swear never to touch a card or back a horse again?"
"Get out of it? Oh, Wayne--Cyril, old man, how? How?" implored Jack, with trembling lips, half rising from his seat.
Cyril pushed him back impatiently. "That is not the answer I want," said he. He repeated his question. "Do you swear?" he asked. "Quick! Quick, man! I can hear footsteps. A moment more and it won't matter what you say."
"Yes, yes, I swear, I swear!" repeated Jack, fervently, as he gulped down something that had risen in his throat.
"Very good!" Cyril's grasp closed like a steel vice on his shoulder. "Jack Selden," continued the young man, sternly, "what I am going to do I shall do for Madge's--your cousin's--sake; but if you fail to keep that oath you have just made, do you know that you will be the meanest, pitifullest hound that ever walked God's earth? If you _do_ fail--" he paused, "well, never cross my path, that's all. Now rouse up. Look like yourself, man; they are here."
It was true. There was a sound of slippered feet outside the study door. Jack rose from his chair and stood behind it, his face drawn, his eyes roving. He felt sick with the fear clutching at his heart.
"Not a word from you," whispered Cyril, rapidly; "leave everything to me."
There was the sharp click of a pistol-trigger outside; a pause; and then the study door was flung wide open. In the corridor stood the doctor and Madge alone. The latter was holding a candle above her head in her left hand; with her right she pointed a revolver.
[Illustration: "IN THE CORRIDOR STOOD THE DOCTOR AND MADGE ALONE."]
"You may give up. There is no escape. If you move you will be shot down without mercy," said the doctor, rapidly. "How many, Madge?"' he added, in a lower tone.
Madge had with great difficulty checked the exclamation that had risen to her lips as her glance fell on Cyril and Jack. Both arms dropped to her side. What did this mean? Her startled, questioning glance dwelt on each of the young men alternately, but no explanation came. They stood before her like two statues. Jack hung his head; he could not even face his father's sightless eyes. Cyril looked at her, silent, calm, and speechless.
"How many, Madge?" repeated the doctor, impatiently.
"Two," she gasped, with a great effort.
"Do you recognise them?"
There was a momentary pause. Jack trembled so violently that his grasp shook the chair he held. He felt that his fate hung on Madge's lips, and his torture was exquisite. Cyril did not blench.
Again Madge swept the faces of the two young men with her keen, questioning glance. Still no attempt at explanation! Oh, this obstinate silence! Jack's shrinking figure, Cyril's cool hardihood, were convincing proofs of guilt. Know them! Know _them_! The cowardly thieves! She coloured hotly; her eyes flashed, and her lips curled with the intensest scorn.
"No, I do not," she replied.
With a sudden and unexpected movement the doctor closed the door with a crash. He rubbed his hands excitedly.
"We have them, Madge; we have them safe, the scoundrels," said he. "Like rats in a trap! Now to get Wayne and Jack, at once, to secure them."
There was a choking sob at his side. Madge had turned and laid her forehead against the wall; the hot tears were coursing down her cheeks. The doctor heard her, and reaching forward caught a hand that was hanging limply down.
"Why, why, my dear!" said he, with sudden compunction, as he felt Madge's fingers trembling in his grasp. "It was too bad of me to put you to such a trial. I ought to have waited for Wayne and Jack. I didn't stop to think. Your nerves are shaken, and no wonder. There! there!"
No wonder, indeed! They went upstairs side by side, Madge scarcely hearing, and still less heeding, the doctor's flow of exculpation.
When they reached the doctor's room the old man wished Madge to rest there while he went to call his son and secretary and alarm the house generally. But to this proposal Madge objected with astonishing energy. She herself would go and no one else. She was quite recovered now and did not feel the slightest fear. Would he promise her to remain quietly in his room until she returned with the others?