With a muffled curse he swung on his heel, and made to cross the gravel
path and plunge into the shrubbery. But Desmond was too quick for him.
Springing upon his back, he caught his arms, thus preventing him from
using his pistol. He was a powerful man, and Desmond alone would have
been no match for him; but before he could wriggle himself entirely free,
three half-clad men servants came up with a rush, and in a trice he was
secured.
In the excitement of these close-packed moments Desmond had forgotten the
other man, whom he had last seen with his leg dangling over the
windowsill. He looked up now; the window was still open; the ladder lay
exactly where he had jerked it; evidently the robber had not descended.
"Quick!" cried Desmond. "Round to the door! The other fellow will
escape!"
He himself sprinted round the front of the house to the door by which the
servants had issued, and met the squire hobbling along on his stick,
pistol in hand.
"We have got one, sir!" cried Desmond. "Have you seen the other?"
"What--why--how many villains are there?" replied the squire, who,
between amazement and wrath, was scarcely able to appreciate the
situation.
"There was a man in the library; he did not come down the ladder; he may
be still in the house."
"The deuce he is! Desmond, take the pistol, and shoot the knave like a
dog if you meet him."
"I'll guard the door, Sir Willoughby. They are bringing the other man
round. Then we'll go into the house and search.
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