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<h3>Chapter Twenty Two.</h3> <h4>A Blank Adventure.</h4> The light played on the blade of the keen-edged sword, as if it were phosphorescent, but the lambent quivering was not seen by the holder of the lantern, who hid Capel with his own hand as the light was flashed upon the bed and into the corners of the room, and then turned off. “All right, boys,” was whispered, and a man swung himself into the room. “Be quick, and shut the window.” A second man crept softly in, and the third was half in, when he slipped, threw out his hand to save himself, struck against one of his companions and drove him back against the curtain and upon Capel. “Light! Barkers! Some one here.” Capel heard the words, saw the flash, and struck at the hand that held it. The blade fell heavily upon the lantern and dashed it to the floor, where it went out. Raising the sword he struck again, but as he did so, one of the men sprang at him, and the blow that fell was upon the fellow’s shoulder, and with the hilt of the sword. Capel was borne back by the man’s fierce spring, his feet became entangled in the curtain and he fell heavily, with his adversary upon him. “Quick, Morris,” whispered a voice. “No, no. Curse you. Shut the window. There’s only one. Where’s your matches? Quick, light the glim! Ah, would you? Lie still and bite that. You just move again and I’ll pull the trigger.” The barrel of a revolver had been thrust between Capel’s teeth, and as he lay back with the man on his chest, half stunned, helpless and despairing, he saw indistinctly the figure against the window, heard the sash slide down, and the darkness was complete as the curtain was drawn over the panes. Then there was the faint streak of light as a match was struck, the bull’s-eye lantern was picked up and re-lit, and the bright rays once more played all about the room. The man who held it then went to the door and listened. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You said nobody can’t hear what goes on in this room. These curtains would suffocate a trumpet. Here, you,” he cried to the third man, “don’t stand shivering like that. Take that carving-knife out of his hand. Pull the trigger, Dick, if he stirs.” This to the man kneeling on Capel’s chest. Capel lay absolutely powerless at that moment; but, as the third fellow caught him by the wrist, the young man wrenched his head on one side, and heaved himself up, so that he partially dislodged the ruffian who held him down. At the same time he swung the sabre round, driving the third back, and striking the principal adversary so sharp a blow that he slipped aside, and Capel leaped to his feet. At that moment the light was turned off, and there was a rush made to get beyond his reach. Capel also took advantage of the total darkness to step back, but he held the weapon ready for a cut, should an attack be made. As he stood there, panting, a low whisper rose from the direction of the door, and he just caught its import, “Give me the light.” There was a click directly after, and then from about the middle of the room the dazzling light of the bull’s-eye shone out full upon Capel as he stood with upraised sword, while his assailants were in the dark. “Now, then,” said the voice which he recognised as that of the man who had held the pistol to his mouth, “throw down that tool.” “Give up, you scoundrel!” cried Capel. “You can’t escape.” “Can’t we?” said the man, between his teeth, “More can’t you. Now, then, will you throw down that sword?” “No,” said Capel, furiously. “You’ve walked into a trap, so give up.” “Go on,” said the voice of the lesser man. At that moment there was a bright flash of light, a sharp report, and Capel felt a sensation as if he had been struck a violent blow on the left shoulder, which half spun him round, while the round, glistening disc of light seemed to have darted back to the side of the bed. Half stunned, but full of fight, Capel turned and made for the light once more, when there was another flash, a quick shot, and this time the blow seemed to have fallen on the top of his head, and, stunned and helpless, the sword dropped from his hand, and he fell on a chair, and from that on to the floor. “You’ve killed him! You’ve killed him!” “Good job, too. Think I wanted my skin turned into pork crackling with that sword? Hold yer row, will yer, or—” “We shall be taken and hung. Oh, my arm!” “Look here, my dear pal,” said the little man; “if you want to preach, just wait till this job’s done. Throw the light on the door, Dick.” “I dunno which is doors and which is windows, with all these curtains. Oh, that’s it, is it? Quiet, will you?” He stood listening attentively. “It’s all right. There isn’t a sound.” “Let’s go then, at once.” “What, empty? Not me, eh, Dick?” “’Taint likely. Wait till I’ve got two more cartridges in. That’s it—Now then, business.” “But this poor fellow?” “He’s not killed, only quieted. Now, then, what is there here?” They made a hurried search of the room, but with the exception of the silver tops of the bottles of the Colonel’s dressing-case, there was nothing to excite their cupidity. Then Capel’s pockets were searched, but watch and purse were in his chamber, while, though the Colonel’s room was full of costly objects, they were not of the portable nature that would have made them valuable to the men. “Now then,” said the tall man, quickly, “it’s of no use; we must go down. Where are the keys?” The little man took a bunch from the bag. “But, suppose the old man’s awake?” whispered the shivering ex-servant, faint from his wound. “Well, if he is, we must persuade him to go to sleep, somehow, till we’ve done. Here, you come and hold the light while I hand him the keys.” The trembling man took the lantern, while his leader went down on one knee; and as his little companion handed him false keys and picklocks, he busied himself trying to open the door. “Keep that light still, will you?” he cried menacingly. “Why, you’re making it dance all over the door. I want it on the key-hole, don’t I?” Then the light shone full on the lock for a minute or two, not more, for he who held it kept turning his head to see if Capel was moving. This brought forth a torrent of whispered oaths from both men. “Here, let me have a try,” whispered the little man. “I can open it if you’ll hold this blessed glim still. I never see such a cur.” Then, in the coolest manner possible, he took the other’s place, and tried key after key, picklock after picklock, and ended by throwing all into the bag with a growl of disgust. “It’s one of them stoopid patents,” he cried. “Here, give us a james.” A strong steel crowbar in two pieces was screwed together, and its sharp edge inserted between the door and the post, but the great, solid mahogany door stood firm, only emitting now and then a loud crack, sharp as that given by a cart whip, as the men strained at it in turn. “Here, let’s try a saw. Centre-bit!” A centre-bit was fitted into a stock, and a hole cut right through. Into this, after much greasing, a key-hole saw was thrust, and, not without emitting a loud noise, the work of cutting began, the sawdust falling lightly on the lion’s skin; but at the end of a few seconds a dull, harsh sound told that the saw was meeting metal, and a fresh start had to be made. For fully two hours did the men work to get through, boring and sawing in place after place, but always to find that the door was strengthened in all directions with metal plates; and at last the task was given up. “Look here,” growled the leader of the party, “that bed isn’t used. I want to know how that chap got in. He hasn’t any key.” “Can’t you get the door open, then?” said the third man, after the other had shaken his head. “Why, don’t you see we can’t?” “But we shall get nothing for our trouble.” “Nothing at all,” said the tall man, quietly. “But—” “There, that’ll do. First of all, you were so precious anxious to go. Now you know we can’t get down, you’re all for the job. I say, is this the room where the murder was?” “Yes; don’t talk about it.” “Why not? We haven’t done another. He’ll come round.” “What next, Dick?” “Cut,” was the laconic reply. “When there’s all that plate asking of us to make up a small parcel and carry it away?” “Don’t patter. Got all the tools?” “Yes.” “Then come along.” The light was played upon Capel’s insensible face for a few moments, and then, to the intense relief of the ex-servant, the lantern was placed in the bag with the burglars’ tools, and the window being thrown open, one by one stole out, the last closing the window behind him, leaving Capel lying helpless and insensible in the locked-up room. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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