Charles rose excitedly, and put his back against the door. "Secure
that man," he said to me sharply, pointing with his finger.
"_What_ man?" I asked, amazed. "Colonel Clay? The young man who's
downstairs now with Cesarine?"
"No," Charles answered, with decision; "Dudley!"
I laid my hand on the footman's shoulder, not understanding what
Charles meant. Dudley, terrified, drew back, and would have rushed
from the room; but Charles, with his back against the door,
prevented him.
"I--I've done nothing to be arrested, Sir Charles," Dudley cried,
in abject terror, looking appealingly at Amelia. "It--it wasn't me
as cheated you." And he certainly didn't look it.
"I daresay not," Charles answered. "But you don't leave this room
till Colonel Clay is in custody. No, Amelia, no; it's no use your
speaking to me. What he says is true. I see it all now. This villain
and Cesarine have long been accomplices! The man's downstairs with
her now. If we let Dudley quit the room he'll go down and tell them;
and before we know where we are, that slippery eel will have
wriggled through our fingers, as he always wriggles. He _is_ Paul
Finglemore; he _is_ Cesarine's young man; and unless we arrest him
now, without one minute's delay, he'll be off to Madrid or St.
Petersburg by this evening!"
"You are right," I answered.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262