There was a little murmur of approval. Only Mr. Kindersley sighed.
'One must remember,' he observed reflectively, 'that it is not only for our own safety—it is for the preservation of a great cause.'
Lavendale took a cigarette from a box in the centre of the table, and lit it.
'I don't know what this penalty is that you propose to inflict upon us,' he remarked, 'but I should just like to remind you that you are living in a very highly civilized country, where people do not disappear.'
'At Hookam,' Mr. Silburn said calmly, 'people have disappeared for the last nine hundred years. Below there, the secret cloisters reach almost to the sea. The cleverest and most astute criminologists who ever breathed might track you to these doors, Lavendale, and search until their hair was grey before they discovered a single trace of you. My servants are mine, body and soul. For my wife's sake, Lavendale——'
'Look here,' Lavendale interrupted, 'I am not sure whether you are in earnest or not, but whatever you might be thinking about for me, you couldn't be such brutes——'
He stopped short. There was a sudden light in his face. From outside the door they could clearly hear the sound of an angry voice. A little ripple of terrified excitement flashed around the table. Mr. Silburn's teeth came together with a little click. There was a curious tremor of emotion in his tone.
'Lock the door,' he ordered Barracombe.
It was too late. In a long travelling ulster, with his cap still in his hand, Major Elwell stood already upon the threshold. Behind him, still protesting, was Lydia Silburn.
'Elwell!' Lavendale shouted. 'Thank God!'
Major Elwell gazed around at them all through his eye-glass and looked back at the woman by his side. He seemed bewildered.
'What in the name of all that's holy is this?' he demanded.
There was a moment's silence. Lavendale drew a long breath. His arm was stretched out accusingly towards his host. Suddenly the words failed upon his lips. He looked around him, speechless, amazed. It was as though the whole world had gone mad. Mr. Barracombe, from the opposite side of the table, had removed his spectacles from his nose and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Lady Marsham was leaning on one side, doubled up. There was only one common sound everywhere—laughter, irresistible, compelling, unmistakable. Mr. Silburn, taking off his pince-nez and struggling for composure, rose to his feet.
'The sentence of the court upon you two,' he declared unsteadily, 'would have been delivered with more solemnity but for the premature arrival of our friend Jack Elwell. I hereby pronounce it, however, finally and irrevocably. It is this, Ambrose Lavendale—that you offer your arm to Miss de Freyne, that you lead the way in to supper, and that you produce your marriage certificate within three weeks.'
Almost as he spoke, lights flashed out from the great room below. A long table was laid for supper. There were servants who seemed to appear like magic, with bottles and dishes. Lavendale turned towards Elwell, looked back at his host and finally down at Suzanne.
'Suzanne,' he exclaimed, 'I believe we're spoofed!'
She shook her head. There were tears of relief in her eyes, but a delicious curve of laughter upon her lips.
'I do not know the word,' she admitted, 'but I believe it is true.'
'Lead the way, young fellow,' Mr. Silburn insisted. 'Forgive us, you two, but when we heard of Miss de Freyne down at the village, making inquiries about us—well, you remember I had to leave Harvard for a practical joke!'
'All the same,' Lydia Silburn declared from the background, 'the sentence of the court is final.'
They took their places, and the supper party very soon became a much gayer meal than the dinner which had preceded it. Towards its close, Lavendale whispered to Suzanne.
'Dear,' he said, 'I'm afraid we'll have to own up that we haven't been quite as astute as usual. Perhaps we are getting a little stale. Supposing we take—a holiday?'
She flashed a wonderful smile up at him.
'It was the sentence of the court,' she murmured.
THE END
Printed in Great Britain byButler & Tanner,Frome and London
********
The Novels ofE. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
THE PROFITEERSTHE DEVIL'S PAWJACOB'S LADDERTHE GREAT IMPERSONATIONTHE STRANGE CASE OF MR. JOCELYN THEWTHE HON. ALGERNON KNOX, DETECTIVEAARON RODD, DIVINERAMBROSE LAVENDALE, DIPLOMATTHE WICKED MARQUISMR. LESSINGHAM GOES HOMETHE OTHER ROMILLYTHE DOUBLE TRAITORTHE PAWNS COUNTTHE MISCHIEF MAKERTHE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCETHE PLUNDERERSTHE TEMPTATION OF TAVERNAKEHAVOCTHE FALLING STARTHE LIGHTED WAYTHE BLACK WATCHERPETER RUFFTHE BLACK BOX
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