"Sir George," she said, "your warning, as you see, was barely in time. We are adventurer and adventuress--detected. I suppose you are a magistrate. Don't you think that you ought to detain us?"
"What can I do to help you?" he asked simply.
She looked at him eagerly. There were mud spots all up her gown, even upon her face. Her hair was wildly disordered. She carried her hat in her hand.
She turned and looked up the road along which they had come. There was no soul in sight. She looked even up at the long line of windows which frowned down upon them from the back of the Hall. They, too, were empty. She thrust a long envelope suddenly into his hand.
"Guard this for me," she whispered. "Don't let any one know that you have it. Don't speak of it to any one. Keep it until I can send for it."
He thrust it into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat.
Her eyes flashed her gratitude upon him. For the first time he saw something in her face--heard it in her tone, which made his heart beat. After all she was human.
"You are very good to me," she murmured. "Believe me, I am not quite as bad as I seem. Good-bye."
He turned with her towards the car, and she gave a low cry. He too started. The car was a mile away, tearing up a hill, and almost out of sight. In the lane behind they could hear the sound of galloping horses. He caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the gate, and behind a great shrub on the lawn.
"Stay there!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't move. I will come back."
Half a dozen horsemen were coming along the lane at steeplechase pace. Lord Runton, on his wonderful black horse, which no man before had ever seen him gallop save across the softest of country, pulled up outside the gate.
"Seen a motor go by, Duncombe?" he called out.
"Rather!" he answered. "Fielding and Miss Fielding in it. Going like Hell!"
Runton waved his companions on, and leaned down to Duncombe.
"Beastly unpleasant thing happened, Duncombe," he said. "Fielding and his daughter have bolted. Fielding seems to have half killed a messenger who came down from London to see Von Rothe, and stolen some papers. Fact of the matter is he's not Fielding at all--and as for the girl! Lord knows who she is. Sorry for you, Duncombe. Hope you weren't very hard hit!"