THE END
appalled was I at the horrible tale which the man had just told to my dear lady.
The villainy of the whole scheme was so terrible, and at the same time so cunning, that it seemed inconceivable that human brain could have engendered it. Vaguely in my dull mind I wondered if Lady Molly would have to commit bigamy before she could wrench from this evil-doer's hands the proofs that would set her own husband free from his martyrdom.
What she said I did not hear, what he meant to retort I never knew, for at that moment my attention was attracted by the sound of running footsteps on the gravel, followed by a loud knock at our front door. Instinctively I ran to open it. Our old gardener was standing there hatless and breathless.
"Appledore Castle, miss," he stammered, "it's on fire. I thought you would like to know."
Before I had time to reply I heard a loud oath uttered close behind me, and the next moment Felkin dashed out of the drawing-room into the hall.
"Is there a bicycle here that I can take?" he shouted to the gardener.
"Yes, sir," replied the old man; "my son has one. Just in that shed, sir, on your left."
In fewer seconds than it takes to relate, Felkin had rushed to the shed, dragged out the bicycle, mounted it, and I think that within two minutes of hearing the awful news, he was bowling along the road, and was soon out of sight.
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