Heyton wiped the sweat from his face, his head sank on his breast; he

was in a condition of coma; so stupefied, indeed, that it was only by an

effort he could follow the detective's next words, "There is only one other person--well, say, two--who suspect you, Lord

Heyton. But she will keep her lips shut. She is your wife--fortunately

for you."

He went to the sideboard, poured out some brandy and pushed the glass

towards the wretched man.

"Drink that, my lord, and pull yourself together," he said, in a

matter-of-fact way. "That's right," as Heyton stretched out a shaking

hand and poured some of the spirit down his throat and some over his

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waistcoat. "Now, you'll want some money. Oh, I know! You wanted it badly

or you wouldn't have played this idiotic game. In this bag is some gold.

When you get to Harbin, you will find some more waiting for you. I'll

take it upon myself to arrange all that. Don't take much luggage: just a

change and a tooth-brush. Say you're going to town on business, any

business you can think of that requires your immediate presence. And,

mind! don't stop on the way; go straight through: you'll find the trains

fit in. I won't add, 'Keep your mouth shut'; you'll do that; unless"--he

nodded significantly at the empty glass--"you take too much of that.

That's rather a weakness of yours, Lord Heyton: master it, or it'll

master you. Now, there's no time to lose. I'll order a brougham for you.

Come, pull yourself together. Man!"--his disgust, impatience broke out,

for the first time--"try to think what you're running away from! It's a

long rope, and it'll take you all your time and wits to get beyond its

reach. And think of the risk I'm running; I'm compounding a felony.

I--Harry Jacobs!"

Heyton rose, clutching at the table, chair; his quivering lips opened

and shut; at last he cried hoarsely, "Damn you!"

"That's all right, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs. "I'm glad I've roused your

spirit. Here, pull yourself together--your face is giving you away.

Upstairs and pack! The carriage will be waiting."

He held open the door; and Heyton, with a glance at him which meant

murder, passed out.

Half an hour later, Celia saw Lord Heyton enter the brougham.

"Is Lord Heyton going away?" she asked, with surprise, as she saw the

footman place a small portmanteau on the box. She hurried into the hall

as she spoke, and it was Mr. Jacobs, who was standing there with Mrs.

Dexter, who answered her.




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