Blood Royal by Dornford Yates

thinks we suspect nothing, he’ll let us alone. Sans petrol we’re stuck, and he knows it. What’s more, he’ll swear that some’s coming, to keep us glued to the house. If he asks where I am, you must say I’m keeping my bed: but, with luck, I’ll be back before breakfast with Rowley and Bell.”
    George took his pipe from his mouth and rubbed his nose.
    “Bill,” says he, “don’t be a fool. This dukeling may have his merits. If he has, they’re damned well veiled, but they may be there. But I’ll tell you this. Lump them all together and chuck in his rotten life, and they’re not worth the one-night’s rest of an honest man.”
    “I know,” said I, smiling. “But I’d like to help the Grand Duchess. There’s nothing the matter with her.”
    “I suppose this will help her,” said George thoughtfully.
    I shrugged my shoulders.
    Then I gave him the key of the outhouse in which the Rolls stood, and told him there were arms in her locker and advised him to draw a pistol as soon as he decently could.
    “And tell the Grand Duchess I’ve gone, but not the Duke.”
    “Is that wise?” said George.
    “Very wise,” said I. “She’s a quicker wit than we have and – and better hands.”
    “I believe you,” said George: “but she’s got a whip in her boot.”
     
    I put out my candle and leaned out into the night.
    There was the bailiff, still sitting by the side of the door, in case, I suppose, his master should presently come. Whether his dogs were with him, I could not tell.
    I had not had much hope of being able to go that way, and, indeed, it seemed idle to have to do with the court, when the back of the house gave upon blowing meadows that ran right up to the woods. I, therefore, drew in my head and turned to the door.
    Now I had learned as a child that in abbeys and suchlike foundations there was sometimes a stairway that led direct from the dormitories into the church: and it at once occurred to me that, though the church was gone, the stairway, if built in the mansion, would still be there.
    A glance through my keyhole showed that the passage was in darkness, and an instant later I was stealing down it as fast as I dared. My shoes were soled with rubber and made no sound.
    Sure enough, at the end of the passage I came to a winding staircase some four feet wide.
    I had stopped at its head for a moment, to see if I could find handhold, in case I slipped, when I thought that I heard a movement behind my back.
    I was flat against the wall in an instant, and holding my breath, but, though I stood for two minutes as still as death, the sound was not repeated, and I made up my mind that my fancy had played me a trick.
    Stealthily I descended the steps.
    At their foot was a little landing, and then I was brought up short by a door in the wall. Beneath this fresh air was blowing, where the aged threshold was worn.
    There was neither latch nor keyhole, but only two great bolts, and these were loose in their staples, so that I was able to draw them without any noise.
    At once the door swung inward, and I saw the sable country and the heaven thickset with stars.
    But, if I was now free of the mansion, I was not free to be gone, for I dared not leave the door open and I could not so much as close it, when once I was out.
    I could have stamped for vexation at this untimely hitch.
    Had there been a latch, I would have latched it and been content. Had the oak stayed still, when I shut it, I would have left it so, and have chanced the mischief of the wind: but, as I have said, it swung inward, because it was badly hung, and I dared not leave it open, for, though no eye should see it, the draught in the passage above would tell its tale.
    There was nothing to be done but go back and rouse George Hanbury. Then we could come down together and he could see me out.
    Heavily I shut the door and slid a bolt back into place. Then I turned again to the stairs.
    As I did so, I heard a movement two or three steps