“I remember this,” Lady Mary said. She tried the door but it was bolted from the inside.
“Richard,” she called. “Open the door, please.”
They heard no sound except a strangled cough.
“Richard, open the door at once,” she commanded.
Something fell to the floor. A chair moved — a heavy chair.
“Let me talk to him, my lady,” Wells said in a low voice. He went close to the door and raised his voice. “My liege, the enemy is defeated. We’ve routed them. I am at your service, my liege!”
Sir Richard made instant reply in a great voice. “You are a traitor, Lord Dunsten! It was you who allowed the enemy to enter my castle! Call my guards!”
They listened, they looked at Wells. He shook his head and began again bravely. “Your Majesty, you wrong me — indeed you do! I served your father and I serve you faithfully! But if you believe me guilty, I’ll call the guards — I’ll give myself up!”
“Dismiss those persons who are with you,” Sir Richard shouted. “I will open the door but only to you.”
Lady Mary nodded, she motioned to Kate and Webster to follow her and they walked some feet away along the passage and looked back at Wells. He stood for a long moment, giving out great gusty sighs. He took a few steps away, then returned again to the door. He folded his arms, glanced at them, bowed to them as though in farewell, then gave seven knocks on the door.
They heard the sound of the bolt
“Are you alone?” Sir Richard’s voice echoed down the passage.
“Yes, my liege,” Wells said in a loud voice.
“Have the horses saddled! You’ll follow me.”
“Saddle the horses!” Wells shouted, his high old voice cracking with effort. “His Majesty’s orders! Americans to be routed!”
The door opened to reveal not Sir Richard but his right arm, holding the sword. Wells went in and the door closed with a slam.
Lady Mary held her breath until the door closed. Then she turned with sudden strength to Webster.
“Call the doctor,” she said. “Tell him to come at once. We do not know what will happen behind that closed door — tell him there is no time to waste.”
She walked rapidly down the passage toward the great hall.
Kate ran after her. “My lady,” she gasped. “If you will excuse me for a moment — I’ve thought of something. Wait for me in the great hall, my lady.”
She had indeed thought of something — John had said he was not leaving the village yet! She flew to the pantry telephone and called the inn. The innkeeper himself answered.
“Is Mr. Blayne there, George? This is Kate at the castle.”
“He’s here, all right, just sat down to a cup of tea in the garden. What’s amiss? You’re breathing like a grampus.”
“I must speak to him, if you please,” she cried. “A very important message, tell him.”
“Well, I’ll call him,” George grumbled.
“Please, George,” she begged, A moment or two later she heard his voice.
“John Blayne—”
“Oh,” she cried, still breathless. “Please, will you go to America immediately?”
“Kate! What on earth?”
“Please, I can’t say it on the telephone, what with the whole village listening in — but it’s very dangerous for you. Don’t delay at all, not a moment!”
He remonstrated. “Now, really, Kate, this is too mysterious! If it’s as dangerous as that, I shall come to the castle and see for myself.”
“Indeed you must not!”
“Then tell me—”
“It’s — it’s that Sir Richard’s not well — he’s not himself. We don’t know why — but he wants to — to — kill you.”
He laughed. “Kill me? How absurd!”
“Ah, but he does! It’s better if you never see him again. Believe me, better for all of us.”
“Why should I be afraid?”
“He thinks you’re his enemy.”
He laughed again. “Nonsense — we’re not living in the Middle Ages.”
“Sir Richard is — and it’s not for laughing, either, if it’s me you’re laughing at! I tell you he wants to kill you!”
“Kate—”
“Yes?”
“Are you afraid for me?”
Her voice came very small and hesitant. “Yes.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“No — please, please leave the village — leave England — pack your things now, at this moment—”
“Can’t I wait until tomorrow just to see how he is?”
“No. It’s life and death. Good-bye, good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Kate,” he said and hung up.
When he turned, the innkeeper was standing behind him.
“What was all that?” he inquired. “What’s wrong at the castle, Mr. Blayne?”
“They want me out of the country,” he said slowly. “I don’t know why. I don’t understand.”
“When Sir Richard gives an order, he means it to be obeyed.” The voice held a note of warning.
“Perhaps it depends on who receives the order.”
“That Kate is a strong-minded lass, Mr. Blayne, but she’s a good girl. Lady Mary is lucky to have such a maid in this day and age. Why, it’s all I can do to get—”
“She’s not a maid, George.”
“What is she then?” George’s round eyes grew rounder. “Who is she then?”
“I shall find out. That’s why I’m staying.”
“Shall you want a room here at the inn tonight, Mr. Blayne?”
John did not answer for a moment, then he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps I will, George, just for tonight, just in case.”
“What will you be doing now, Mr. Blayne?”
“I’m going back to the castle as soon as I’ve finished my tea.”
… In the tower room Wells was facing his master.
“Put down the sword, Your Majesty,” he said.
Sir Richard, with the sword pointed at Wells, muttered thickly, “I’ll run you through.”
The room was dancing in circles through his bloodshot eyes, purple circles shot with brilliant lights. He could barely see Wells, a dim ghost in the whirling colors.
“I must open the door, my liege,” Wells said. “Your queen must know everything now.”
“I’ll tell her myself, you traitor,” Sir Richard roared. He advanced, searching for the gray figure that now was there and now was gone.
Suddenly he heard noises behind him — someone grunting and groaning, the shriek of a bolt in its rusty hasp. Wells had stepped behind him. He whirled about, nearly fell, and recovered himself. Wells had to sidestep, the door still fast shut.
“You devil!” he shouted. “You’d trick me, would you? You’d run to my enemies! I’ve a way to stop you at last. Richard the Fourth — I’ll do what Richard the Third did — this sword — this sword — these damned colors floating everywhere! … Hah, but I see you there!”
He did indeed see a white and terrified face, the face of an old man, a stranger. He thrust the sword toward that face and even as he did so the body crumpled and fell to the floor. He saw a head at his feet and the sword in his hand. He stared down, bewildered.
“It’s bloody,” he muttered in disgust. He dropped the sword and it clattered on the stone floor.
…Outside the door the little group stood in the passage, listening in awe and terror. Nobody had come to help them. The doctor, Webster reported, was not in his office. The Americans had long since been dismissed.
“Should I not call the vicar, at least?” Kate was saying, and at that moment saw John, at the far end of the passage and running toward them.
“Oh, thank God, thank God,” Lady Mary cried at sight of him. “Only, how did you know that we needed help?”
“Kate told me not to come — some sort of danger — so, of course, I came. I went straight to Sir Richard’s room and that panel was open — I simply went through it and kept going like the White Rabbit in Alice in—” He broke off at the sight of their faces. “Tell me quickly,” he demanded, suddenly grave.