All the men were in the smoking room, and all were plying Drake with
questions. Drake, knowing that he would have to go through it, was
giving as concise an account of it as was possible. He was wearied to
death, not only of the burglary, but of the emotions he had experienced,
and his voice was low and his manner that of a man talking against his
will; but Burden heard every word, for, at its lowest, Drake's voice was
singularly clear.
She listened, motionless as a statue, till he came to the point where
the burglar had turned and faced him. Then she moved and had hard work
to stifle a moan.
"That was a near thing, Angleford!" said Lord Turfleigh, over the edge
of his glass; "a deuced near thing! If I'd been you, I should have cried
a go, and let the fellow off. Dash it all! a man in your position has
no right to risk his life, even for such diamonds as the Angleford."
Drake laughed shortly.
"I didn't think of the diamonds," he said quietly. "It was a match
between me and the man. He missed me and bolted to cover. I followed,
and he slipped behind a tree and aimed; but he missed--fortunately for
me."
"Missed you?" said Lord Wolfer, who had been listening attentively and
in silence. "How was that? You must have been very near?"
Drake was silent for a moment; then, as if reluctantly, he replied: "There were several persons engaged in the game. One of them was a young
lady who is staying at the lodge--the south lodge. She happened to be
out, strolling in the garden, and heard the rumpus. And she"--he lit a
fresh cigarette--"she sprang on him and struck his arm up!"
"No!" exclaimed one of the men. "Dash it all! Angleford, if this isn't
the most dramatic, sensational affair I've ever heard of."
"Yes?" came in Drake's grave, restrained tones. "Yes, that saved my
life."
There was a moment's silence, an impressive silence, then he went on: "And did for the man. If he had disposed of me, he could have shot poor
Mr. Falconer at the gate and got off. As it was----" He stopped and
seemed to consider. "Well, it left me free to collar him at the gate,
but not, unfortunately, until he had wounded Falconer."
"Poor devil!" muttered Lord Turfleigh. "Hard lines on him, eh,
Angleford?"