The electric light blazed up as Joseph Chestermarke strode in. He put the door to behind him without quite closing it, and walked into the middle of the laboratory, feeling in his waistcoat pocket for something as he advanced. And Neale, peering at him through the high screen, felt afraid of him for the first time in his life. For the junior partner had shaved off his beard and moustache, and the face which was thus clearly revealed, and on which the bright light shone vividly, was one of such mean and malevolent cruelty that the watcher felt himself turn sick with dread.
Joseph went straight to the door in the far wall, unlocked it with a twist of the key which he had brought from his pocket, and walked in. The click of an electric light switch followed, and Neale stared hard and nervously into the hitherto hidden room. But he saw nothing but Joseph Chestermarke, standing, hands planted on his sides, staring at something hidden by the door. Next instant Joseph spoke-menacingly, sneeringly.
"So you're round again after one of your long sleeps, are you?" he said. "That's lucky! Now then, have you come to your senses?"
Neale thought his heart would burst as he waited for the unseen man's voice. But before he heard any voice he heard something which turned his blood cold with horror-the clanking, plain, unmistakable, of a chain! Whoever was in there was chained!-chained like a dog. And following on that metallic sound came a weary moan.
"Come on, now!" said Joseph. "None of that! Are you going to sign that paper? Speak, now!"
It seemed to Neale an age before an answer came. But it came at last-and in Horbury's voice. But what a changed voice! Thin, weak, weary-the voice of a man slowly being done to death.
"How long are you going to keep me here?" it asked. "How long-"
"Sign that paper on the table there, and you'll be out of this within twenty-four hours," replied Joseph. "And-listen, you!-you'll have good food-and wine-wine!-within ten minutes. Come on, now!"
Further silence was followed by another moan, and at the sound of that, Neale, whose teeth had been clenched firmly for the last minute or two, slipped his hand round to the pocket in which the revolver lay.
"Don't be a damned fool!" said Joseph. "Sign and have done with it! There's the pen-sign! You could have signed any time the last week and been free. Get it done-damn you, I tell you, get it done! It's your last chance. I'm off tonight. If I leave you here, it's in your grave. Nobody'll ever come near this place for weeks-you'll be dead-starved to death, mind!-long before that. Do you hear me? Come on, now!-sign!"
Neale half drew the revolver from his pocket. But, as he was about to step from behind the screen, a sudden step sounded on the gravel outside the outer door, and he shrank back, watching. The door opened-was thrown back with some violence-and at the same instant Joseph darted from the inner room, livid with anger, to confront Gabriel Chestermarke.
That the younger man had not expected to encounter the elder was instantly evident to Neale. Joseph drew back, step by step, watching his uncle, until his back was against the door through which he had just rushed. His hand went out behind him and pulled the door to, heavily. And as it closed he spoke-and Neale knew that there was fear in his voice.
"What-what-is it?" he got out. "When did you come in here? Why-" Gabriel Chestermarke had come to a halt in the middle of the floor, and he was standing very still. His face was paler than ever, and his eyes burned in their deep-set sockets like live coals. And suddenly he lifted a forefinger and pointed it straight at his nephew.
"Thief!" he said, with a quietness which was startlingly impressive to the excited spectator. "Thief! Thief and liar-and murderer, for aught I know! But you are found out. Scoundrel!-you stole those securities! You stole those jewels! Don't trifle-don't attempt to dispute! I know! You got the jewels last Saturday night-you took those securities at the same time. You may have murdered that man Hollis for anything I know to the contrary-probably you did. But-no fencing with me! Now speak! Where are the jewels? Where are those securities? And-where is Horbury! Answer!-without lying. You devil!-I tell you I know-know ! I have seen Mrs. Carswell!"
Gabriel had moved a little as he went on speaking-moved nearer to his nephew, still pointing the incriminating and accusing finger at him. And Joseph had moved, too-backward. He was watching his uncle with a queer expression. Neale saw the tip of his tongue emerge from his lips, as if the lips had become dry, and he wanted to moisten them. And suddenly his face changed, and Neale, closely watching him, saw his hand go quickly to his breast pocket, and caught the gleam of a revolver….
Neale was a cricketer-of reputation and experience. On a felt-covered stand close by him lay a couple of heavy spherical objects, fashioned of some shining-surfaced metal and about the size of a cricket ball, which he had previously noticed and handled in looking round. He snatched one of them up now, and flung it hard and straight at Joseph Chestermarke, intending to stun him. But for once in a way he missed his mark; the missile crashed against the wall behind. And then came a great flash, and the roar of all the world going to pieces, and a mighty lifting and upheaving-and he saw and felt and knew no more. CHAPTER XXX
The four people standing beneath the portico of the police-station remained as if spell-bound for a full moment after the sudden flash and the sudden roar. Betty Fosdyke unconsciously clutched at Lord Ellersdeane's arm: Lord Ellersdeane spoke, wonderingly.
"Thunder?" he exclaimed. "Strange!"
Easleby turned sharply from Starmidge, who, holding by one of the pillars, was staring towards the quarter of the Market-Place, from whence the scream of dire fear had come.
"That's no thunder, my lord!" he said. "That's an explosion!-and a terrible one, too! Are there any gasworks close at hand? It was like-"
Polke came rushing out of the lobby behind them, followed by some of his men. And at the same instant people began running along the pavements, calling to each other.
"Did you hear that?" cried the superintendent excitedly. "An explosion! Which direction?"
Starmidge suddenly started, as if from a reverie. He put up his hand and wiped something from his cheek, and held the hand out to a shaft of light which came from the open door behind them. A smear of blood lay across his open palm.
"A splinter of falling glass," he said quietly. "Come on, all of you! That was an explosion-and I guess where! Get help, Polke-come on to the Cornmarket! Get the firemen out."
He set off running towards the end of the Market-Place, followed by Easleby, and at a slower pace by Lord Ellersdeane and Betty. Crowds were beginning to run in the same direction: very soon the two detectives found it difficult to thread a way through them. But within a few minutes they were in the Cornmarket, and Starmidge, seizing his companion's arm, dragged him round the corner of Joseph Chestermarke's house to the high garden wall which ran down the slope to the river bank. And as they turned the corner, he pointed.
"As I thought!" he muttered. "It's Joseph Chestermarke's workshop! Something's happened. Look there!"
The wall, a good ten feet high on that side, was blown to pieces, and lay, a mass of fallen masonry, on the green sward by the roadside. Through the gap thus made, Starmidge plunged into the garden-to be brought up at once by the twisted and interlaced boughs of the trees which had been lopped off as though by some giant ax, and then instantaneously transformed into a cunningly interwoven fence. The air was still thick with fine dust, and the atmosphere was charged with a curious, acid odour, which made eyes and nostrils smart.
"No ordinary burst up, this!" muttered Starmidge, as he and Easleby forced their way through branches and obstacles to the open lawn. "My God!-look at it! Blown to pieces!"