’What can be the matter with me?  Am I going mad?  She can’t be moving!’

If she wasn’t, then certainly something was,—­she was lifted right into the air.  An idea occurred to me.  I snatched the rug aside.

The mystery was explained!

A thin, yellow, wrinkled hand was protruding from amidst the heap of rugs,—­it was its action which had caused the seeming movement of the figure on the altar.  I stared, confounded.  The hand was followed by an arm; the arm by a shoulder; the shoulder by a head,—­and the most awful, hideous, wicked-looking face I had ever pictured even in my most dreadful dreams.  A pair of baleful eyes were glaring up at mine.

I understood the position in a flash of startled amazement.

Sydney, in following Mr Holt, had started on a wild goose chase after all.  I was alone with the occupant of that mysterious house,—­the chief actor in Mr Holt’s astounding tale.  He had been hidden in the heap of rugs all the while.

BOOK IV

In Pursuit

The Conclusion of the Matter is extracted from the Case-Book of the Hon. Augustus Champnell, Confidential Agent.

CHAPTER XXXII

A NEW CLIENT

On the afternoon of Friday, June 2, 18—­, I was entering in my case-book some memoranda having reference to the very curious matter of the Duchess of Datchet’s Deed-box.  It was about two o’clock.  Andrews came in and laid a card upon my desk.  On it was inscribed ‘Mr Paul Lessingham.’

‘Show Mr Lessingham in.’

Andrews showed him in.  I was, of course, familiar with Mr Lessingham’s appearance, but it was the first time I had had with him any personal communication.  He held out his hand to me.

‘You are Mr Champnell?’

‘I am.’

’I believe that I have not had the honour of meeting you before, Mr Champnell, but with your father, the Earl of Glenlivet, I have the pleasure of some acquaintance.’

I bowed.  He looked at me, fixedly, as if he were trying to make out what sort of man I was.  ‘You are very young, Mr Champnell.’

’I have been told that an eminent offender in that respect once asserted that youth is not of necessity a crime.’

’And you have chosen a singular profession,—­one in which one hardly looks for juvenility.’

’You yourself, Mr Lessingham, are not old.  In a statesman one expects grey hairs.—­I trust that I am sufficiently ancient to be able to do you service.’

He smiled.

’I think it possible.  I have heard of you more than once, Mr Champnell, always to your advantage.  My friend, Sir John Seymour, was telling me, only the other day, that you have recently conducted for him some business, of a very delicate nature, with much skill and tact; and he warmly advised me, if ever I found myself in a predicament, to come to you.  I find myself in a predicament now.’