THERE WAS a moment’s tense silence. The governess’s face, which until then had been full of feeling, grew suddenly hard and grave, her grey eyes looked cold.
“She must get me out of the way for Frank Carlyn’s sake,” she said slowly to herself.
“I see,” she said aloud. “Yes, it will be awkward for Mr. Carlyn when I am arrested.”
Barbara caught her breath quickly.
“But you must not be arrested—for both your sakes. Can’t you think of anything—go anywhere?”
“How can I go anywhere?” the woman opposite questioned with white, stiff lips. “I should be watched, followed?”
Barbara clasped her hands. “If I could get you out of the house have you anywhere you could go—where you would be safe?”
The governess did not answer. Her eyes glanced restlessly at the window, through which in the daytime a distant glimpse of the chimneys of Walton Grange could be obtained. In that minute Elizabeth’s pride fought a battle at its last stronghold—fought and was vanquished. She was beaten to the very ground now and she knew it. If it were possible to save her there was nothing left for her but the one refuge she had sworn never to claim. She made a weary gesture of surrender and she turned to Barbara.
“Yes, if I could get away from here I think I should be safe.”
“Then I have thought of something,” Barbara began hurriedly, then she stopped short. There was the loud teuf-teuf of a motor in the drive beneath. “The Turners’ car,” she exclaimed. “Just what I was hoping for. Algy was to bring me a parcel from town on his way to the station. We are saved.”
“How—I don’t understand,” the governess said helplessly.
“He shall drive you to safety,” Barbara said eagerly. “Wait quietly here, Miss Martin. I must go down and explain to him.”
“But you can’t tell him—he won’t—” Elizabeth gasped.
“That will be all right,” Barbara assured her. She ran out of the room and downstairs at full speed.
The car was standing before the open door. Young Turner was leaning out talking to the butler.
“Algy, Algy!” she called out. “I want you.”
“And I want you,” he retorted with a laugh. “I have the new car. Come for a spin and try her—she is a beauty.”
All the Turners were fond of Barbara. Algy, the young hope of the house, a boy of twenty, was particularly devoted to her.
“I believe I will,” Barbara said gaily, though all her pulses were thrilling with fear. Suppose the detectives came before she was ready? She ran down the steps. “Sure you won’t spill me? Oh, she is a beauty. I really can’t resist her.” Then she cast an anxious look round. The butler was out of ear-shot. If unseen watchers were in the bushes it was impossible that they should catch what she said. Her tone changed.
“Algy, will you help me? I want a friend badly.”
“Why, of course I will. You know that, Barbara,” young Turner said heartily. “What is it?”
Barbara drew him down to her. “There is some one here to-night who must be got away without anyone knowing. She shall come down to you in a minute dressed in my things. Will you do this for me, Algy?”
“I would do much more than that to help you,” young Turner responded warmly. “And this sounds as if it might be jolly fun.”
Barbara caught her breath. “It isn’t fun at all,” she said desperately. “It is dead earnest, and it is only fair to tell you, Algy, that you may get into awful trouble about it. But I don’t know who else to turn to. I must have help to-night at once.”
“Bless you, don’t you worry about trouble for me,” Algy laughed. “I’m always in it, more or less, a bit extra will run easily enough off my shoulders. They are broad enough to stand it.”
Barbara patted his arm. “You are a good boy,” she said gratefully. “Then I will send her downstairs to you at once. You understand, Algy. You will pretend she is me, and you will be ready to start as soon as she comes, in case anyone should try to stop you.”
“I should be sorry for them if they tried to interfere with my new car,” Algy said grimly. “That is all right, Barbara. Nobody shall stop me between here and the lodge and I will drive your friend wherever she wants to go.”
Your friend! The irony of that expression almost made Barbara smile. But she sprang back and ran up the steps.
“Only half an hour and you will have to bring me back safely,” she called out gaily.
“Oh, I will bring you back all right,” Algy promised cheerfully. “Don’t you be half an hour putting your coat on, Barbara.”
“I won’t be a minute,” the girl assured him laughingly.
In the hall she paused a moment, yet there was a good deal to be done and not much time to do it. There were two people who must be got out of the way for the next ten minutes, Sybil Lorrimer and the schoolroom maid. It was fairly easy to Barbara’s fertile brain to think of a way to get rid of Sybil. She tapped at the door of the study.
“Oswald, don’t you want any letters written to-night?”
“No, I don’t think so, thanks,” Sir Oswald answered, raising his head in some surprise.
“Oh, but you must!” Barbara contradicted.
“Anyhow, I wish you would ask Sybil to write some for you. I want to be sure that she is quietly in here for the next half-hour.”
Sir Oswald laughed. “If it is to oblige you,” he began. Then blind though he was, he seemed to divine some of the real anxiety that underlay the lightness of the girl’s tone. “I have rather an important letter that I was going to ask Miss Martin to answer for me,” he said quietly. “But I daresay Sybil would be kind enough to do it instead.”
“I am sure she would,” Barbara agreed with a sigh of relief. “And you will send for her at once, Oswald? You will ask her to do it now?”
“Instantly.” Sir Oswald touched the bell. “Will that satisfy you, Barbara?”
“Thank you very much,” the girl said gratefully. She hurried out into the hall, almost running into Sybil Lorrimer as she did so.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” that young lady inquired. “Is that Algy Turner outside? I want to speak to him.”
Such a desire on Sybil’s part had never occurred to Barbara; for a moment she thought her whole scheme might be wrecked. Then she said quickly, “Do keep him patient while I put on my coat, I am going for a spin in his new car. Oswald wants some one to write a letter for him. Do you know whether Miss Martin is in the schoolroom?”
“I don’t know.” Sybil turned back on her way to the front door. “Don’t bother about her, I will go to Oswald.”
Barbara ran upstairs. There was still the schoolroom-maid to be disposed of, and this might be a more difficult matter than getting Sybil out of the way. Nothing had occurred to her when outside the passage leading to the schoolroom apartments she met Latimer. Barbara had earned for herself a very warm place in Latimer’s heart. The maid had been devoted to Sir Oswald’s young wife, and she did not forget the warm friendship that had subsisted between the two girls.
Barbara took quick counsel with herself. Latimer could give her the help she craved.
“Latimer,” she said quickly, “I want to have a little talk with Miss Martin, just a little private talk, and I am sure that the new schoolroom-maid, Susan, listens. Could you—”
“I am not at all sure that you are not right, miss,” was Latimer’s unexpected rejoinder. “It seems to me the girl is always poking and prying about. If I can do anything for you, miss—”
“You could do this, Latimer,” Barbara said smilingly, earnestly putting her hand on the woman’s arm. “Susan is putting Miss Maisie to bed, but she keeps making excuses to come into the schoolroom. If you have a quarter of an hour to spare could you go up and help with Miss Maisie’s undressing and keep the door shut and Susan in the room? I will explain all to-morrow. I can’t to-night.”
“Bless you, miss, I don’t want any explanations,” Latimer said heartily. “I shall be glad enough of the chance of going through Miss Maisie’s wardrobe. Her ladyship said the other day it ought to be done. And I won’t give Miss Susan much time for looking after what don’t concern her. I can promise you that.”
“You are a jewel, Latimer,” and the girl gave her arm an affectionate pat.
She heard Maisie’s bedroom door shut with a decisive bang before she went into the schoolroom.
The governess was sitting in a huddled up heap in the chair by the fireplace. She lifted up a white, terrified face, her great grey eyes glancing fearfully from side to side.
“Have they come for me?” she questioned hoarsely.
“Come? No,” Barbara said, “and long before they come you will be safe away. I told you I had thought of a plan.”
She briefly related her arrangement with young Turner. Then she drew the governess into her own room.
“Put on this short, plain coat,” she said hurriedly. “And this close-fitting hat; you are to wear my big dust-coloured motoring coat over it all, and turn the collar up, do you see? Then when you get out of the car leave the coat with Algy and you will look quite different. Now all you have to do is to run downstairs as quickly as you can and get into the car. Algy will manage everything else.”
Elizabeth’s face was muffled up so that it was not easy to see that she was not Barbara, and the big, light motoring coat was known to all the household. Barbara pushed her to the door.
“Be quick! Be quick! You must go alone, and remember that everything depends on you now.”
The other girl paused a moment, then she stooped and pressed her hot, fevered lips to the little hands that had been working so hard for her.
“I must thank you and bless you for all you have done for me,” she said brokenly. “Even though I know that it was for his sake.”
Then she turned very quickly and drawing the cloak more closely round her ran lightly down the stairs. None of Barbara’s plans miscarried. Sybil Lorrimer and Susan were neither of them to be seen, and the footman who held the door open was giving all his attention to the car.
Algy made an admirable accomplice. Directly he caught sight of the figure on the stairs he called out in his cheerful, boyish tones: “Now then, Barbara, hurry up. I thought you were only going to be a minute. I like your idea of time.”
He sprang out of the car and helped her in, then, taking his place beside her, in a trice they were spinning down the drive.
Barbara, in her own room, standing by the window from which she dared not lift the blind, drew a deep breath of relief as she heard them reach the lodge gates, and knew they had not been stopped. Now, provided that Elizabeth could reach the refuge she had spoken of so confidently, she was safe.
At any rate Barbara could do no more. With a sudden realization of the past hour she sank into the sofa that was drawn up before the fire. She drew out Frank Carlyn’s letter again. Less than ever did Carlyn seem to belong to her now, and yet the feeling that she had been doing something for him gave her a strange sense of peace.
She was still lying there, with her hands pressed over her eyes, and trying to still the intolerable aching of her temples, when she heard the sound of a car in the drive. In a moment she realized what it meant. Elizabeth had not escaped a moment too soon. The detectives were here.
She waited for the summons to the front door, but the car turned to the side, to a door that was used mainly by Sir Oswald’s tenants and people coming to see him on business. Then Barbara caught the sound of an authoritative knock, she heard the bell ring clearly.