"Get your man into the car and beat it," I shouted to Raynor, thinking an attempt was about to be made to rescue the prisoner.
The touring-car left just as a Barton taxi flashed into the driveway. The driver was swearing loudly at one of the Tyringham veterans who had wedged himself into the door of the machine. With some difficulty I extricated Scotty from his hazardous position.
Searles jumped out (I had forgotten that he might arrive that night), but before I could greet him he swung round and assisted a lady to alight--a short, stout lady in a travelling cap, wrapped in a coat that fell to her heels. She began immediately to deliver orders in an authoritative tone as to the rescue of her belongings. Searles dived into the taxi and began dragging out a vast amount of small luggage, but my attention was diverted for a moment by Alice, who jumped down the steps and clasped her arms about the neck of the stout lady.
"Aunt Alice!" I heard her saying. "Why didn't you tell us to meet you?"
"Why didn't I tell you?" demanded the stout lady. "The moment you left me I knew I'd made a mistake in letting you come over here on one of your absurd larks! And from the row I had getting into the premises I judge that you're at your old tricks. Fired upon! Treated as though I were an outlaw! You shall never go out of my sight again!"
"Oh, please don't scold me!" Alice pleaded and turning to me: "This is Bob Singleton, your nephew."
Mrs. Bashford--and I made no question that Searles's companion was indubitably my uncle's widow--gave me her hand and smiled in a way that showed that she was not so greatly displeased with Alice as her words implied.
"Pay that driver for me and don't fail to tip him. Those Methuselahs at the gate all but killed him. It was only the vigorous determination of this gentleman, who very generously permitted me to share the only motor at the station, that I got through the gates alive! I beg your pardon, but what _is_ your name?"
"Mrs. Bashford," I interposed, "my friend, Mr. Searles."
"Mr. Searles!" cried Alice, dropping a cage containing some weird Oriental bird which had been among my aunt's impedimenta. The bird squawked hideously.
"Miss Violet Dewing, permit me to present the author of 'Lady Larkspur'!"