‘What can I do? In God’s name, what can I do?’
Michael asked himself, as he turned to walk up the path into the wood.
The moonlight filtering through the fir trees was exquisite and gave everything a look of mystery which he found very moving.
Michael walked higher and higher and when he reached the top he looked down on what he appreciated in daylight would be a fantastic view over the countryside.
As he did so he saw a little path directly below him and he was sure this was what he was looking for. It would take him to the source of the water which flowed over the cascade.
He wondered for how many years it had been allowed to flow naturally without an artificial lake as he carried on down the twisting narrow path surrounded by trees.
It was then that he saw water pouring from a single hole in a rock into the small artificial lake.
It was, as Michael had guessed, a natural spring and it must have been there since the beginning of time before, by the ingenuity of men, it had been channelled into two small lakes and the cascade.
He put his hand into the water as it poured forth, finding it icy cold and with a special flavour he had never tasted before.
He wondered if it was possible that it would be good to drink and he decided, if he survived to live in the Hall, he would have it analysed. He could give the water or perhaps even sell it to people who needed it for their health.
He knew that water had already been bottled for sale in France from certain springs that had been declared by the medical profession to be excellent for invalids.
In India Michael had found, like all the English, that the natural water invariably upset them.
In the Viceregal Lodge therefore any water that was drunk at meals had first been boiled and then allowed to cool, but Michael had found that it was a continual battle to ensure the Indian servants boiled the water.
When their Master’s back was turned they would fill up the jug with water from the tap.
‘From all I have learned about impure water and the effect it has on one,’ he thought, ‘it would be interesting to find if this water is pure and could be bottled.’
It was a pleasant thought and cupping his hands he drank a little more before he rose to his feet.
He realised that he must now return to the house, because if he did not do so he was certain that Adela would be worrying.
‘She is very sweet and so lovely that I find it difficult not to keep looking at her,’ he said to himself and once again he was thinking that it would be a great mistake for her to fall in love with him.
The sooner he could take her to a place of safety, the better.
If he came back as the Duke, he could hardly arrive with a so-called sister.
‘Problems! Problems! Is there ever anything else in my life?’ Michael asked impatiently.
Then almost as if he could hear Adela calling him, he started to climb back up the twisting path, although he did not want to return to the house yet as he was not in the least tired and had no wish to go to bed.
Yet he felt as if Adela was beside him saying she needed him.
‘Could it be possible,’ wondered Michel, ‘that one of those drunken men downstairs has heard there is a pretty girl in the house and has started to search for her?’
As far as he knew, there was no one else sleeping on the second floor and if Adela heard someone walking down the passage she might think it was him.
She would run eagerly out of her room to welcome him back.
‘I am just frightening myself,’ Michael muttered almost angrily.
However, he started to walk quicker up the twisting path.
CHAPTER SIX
Michael quickly reached the top of the small path and as he stepped onto the wider one and saw to his surprise that just a few feet away there were two horses.
They had not been there when he had gone down the hill and he wondered who they belonged to. They were tethered to a fallen tree and he thought they did not look particularly well-bred.
He did not linger as he was anxious to get back to Adela and he continued to walk down the wider path.
Then just before he reached the cascade, something small and swift sprang out from behind a bush.
Instinctively Michael’s hand went to his revolver.
Then he was aware it was Adela.
He put his arm round her and realised she was trembling all over.
Her voice was almost incoherent as she stammered,
“You are in danger – the Russians are here for you.”
“What are you saying, what are you talking about?”
She clung to him, her face turned up to his.
“They have just gone – into the house,” she added still incoherently.
Michael drew her towards the little wooden hut a few feet away and took her inside.
Putting both his arms round her he said very quietly,
“Now tell me what all this is about?”
“I followed you,” explained Adela, “because I was afraid to stay in the house by myself.”
She paused for a moment as if she thought he might be angry.
“I came as far as here and next I heard someone coming down the path. I thought it would be you – but in case it was not I hid behind one of the bushes.”
Now she was almost breathless and drawing her a little closer, Michael said soothingly,
“There is no hurry. I am listening and now tell me exactly what happened.”
“There were two men and when they got near me they stopped and looked at the house and one man said, ‘it’s much bigger than I expected, in fact it’s a Palace’.”
“Was he speaking in Russian?”
“Yes, but I could understand him.”
Michael was astounded, but just asked her to continue.
“The other man replied, ‘do not worry, I have a plan how we can break in and I know which bedroom he is sleeping in’.”
Adela paused for a moment.
“They both seemed to chuckle and then walked on.
When they reached the garden they moved in the shadows.”
“You are quite certain they were Russian?”
“They were talking in Russian and I know they want to kill you. Oh! Martin, Martin, we must run away at once.”
There was a note of terror in her voice and Michael urged her quickly,
“Now listen, Adela, you have to help me and I am very, very grateful that you have warned me.”
“If they do not find you in your bedroom they may look elsewhere and find you here,” gasped Adela.
“What I want you to do,” Michael went on as if she had not spoken, “is to stay here in this hut and promise me that you will not make a sound or come out, whatever happens. Do you promise?”
He put his hands on both her shoulders and moved her away from him.
“Promise me?” he repeated.
“I pr-promise,” stammered Adela. “But it would be better if you left right away.”
“If they have followed me as far as here, they will follow me again,” replied Michael. “Now do as I say and pray. Your prayers will keep me safe.”
“I have been praying all the time I have been waiting for you.”
Michael looked round and saw there was a sofa in the hut and gently he moved Adela towards it.
“Now whatever happens,” he insisted, “you are to stay where I have put you.”
He pressed her down onto the sofa.
Then before she could say any more he ran out of the hut leaving the glass doors open.
He looked down into the garden, but it was empty and he noticed that the lights in the windows had all been extinguished.
That meant that Cyril and his party had by now staggered up to bed.
If the Russians were astute, as they always were, no one would be aware of them creeping through the house.
Michael could guess who they were. He was sure that the man who had said he knew where he wa
s sleeping was the same man for whose sake the Viceroy had insisted on his departure from India.
In the fight which had taken place after Michael had discovered the plot to assassinate the Viceroy, three Russians had been killed.
Unfortunately the one most wanted by the British had escaped.
He was a man who was always called Agni which in Hindi means The Flame and it was he who had instigated so many fiery uprisings amongst the tribesmen. He was responsible for frequent ambushes in which many British soldiers had died.
The Viceroy had known that Agni would be determined to kill Michael as he would never forget how brilliantly he had uncovered the Russian plot.
However the Marquis had never imagined and neither had Michael that Agni would follow him to England.
Agni was a member of what was called the Third Section of the most dangerous Secret Service which had been set up in Russia by Czar Nicholas I. They prided themselves on always getting their victim.
Agni – The Flame, Michael knew now, would have made a vow to destroy him and he would never rest until he had achieved his objective.
Michael took his revolver out of his pocket and made quite certain that it was fully loaded.
Then he crouched down behind a large rhododendron bush, very probably the same one that Adela had hidden behind.
The moon was high in the sky and the stars were twinkling around it.
Where Michael was hiding, just at the top of the cascade, it was almost as bright as daylight.
He waited with his heart beating fast, but at the same time, he was feeling cool, calm and determined, as he always did just before battle.
He knew if he failed in what he now intended to do, he would have to stay in hiding so long as Agni was alive.
It was then, looking down into the garden, he became aware that someone was moving in the shadows.
The lawn itself was clear, but he was sure, although he could hardly see them, that two men were creeping beneath the almond trees. They were keeping very close to a yew hedge.
Then they drew nearer until they disappeared into the shrubbery.
Michael waited not moving even a muscle.
It would have been impossible for someone standing close to him to be aware he was actually there.
He was waiting and watching the path that led up to the cascade.
Then as he peered through the bush, he saw first Agni’s head and next the head of the man with him.
Still he did not move.
When the Russians were exactly opposite him they stopped for a moment to look at the cascade.
It was then that Michael fired, shooting with the expertise of an experienced marksman.
The bullet hit Agni in the ankle. It was aimed deliberately, since he wished, if his body was ever recovered, that his death should obviously be by drowning.
The Russian gave a scream before he fell over and as he did so, Michael sprang from behind the bush.
With the strength and expertise of a professional pugilist, he struck the other Russian on the point of the chin with a blow that would have knocked any man unconscious.
The Russian fell backwards and disappeared into the cascade.
Without pausing or even looking to see what had happened, Michael picked up Agni by his undamaged leg.
Even as the Russian struggled to pull a knife from his pocket, he hurled him into the cascade.
As the hurtling water encompassed him, Michael knew it would undoubtedly drown him and even if he survived with his wounded leg he would be unable to swim to safety.
Michael stood for a moment looking down at the waves as the water from the cascade hit the lake and there was no sign of the Russians.
Michael knew their bodies would fall deep into the lake and then they would be carried by the current down through the garden and the paddocks.
Eventually they would end up in the natural lake in the front of the house and there would be nothing to show where they had been drowned.
In fact since there was so much water in the lakes at the moment, they might be carried even further before they were discovered.
Michael slipped his revolver back into his pocket and turned towards the wooden hut.
As he entered, Adela, who had been sitting on the sofa with her hands over her eyes, sprang to her feet.
She gave a little cry which seemed to come from the depths of her heart as she flung herself at Michael.
“You are safe. You are safe! Oh, thank God!”
He put his arms round her and he could see in the moonlight the frantic expression in her eyes.
He pulled her closer still and his lips came down on hers.
She was trembling, but as he kissed her and went on kissing her, he felt as if her body melted into his.
Her lips were very soft, sweet and innocent, but at the same time Michael was aware of a rapture moving within her.
It transmitted itself to him and it was unlike any feeling he had ever known.
He had kissed many women, but this kiss was different.
So different he could hardly believe that what he was feeling was real.
It was a wonder and a glory he had never felt before in his entire life.
He recognised that he and Adela were now indivisibly linked together and in some magical way they had become part of one another.
He kissed her until it was almost impossible for both of them to breathe.
When he raised his head, Adela whispered,
“I love you, I love you.”
“And I love you too, my darling,” answered Michael.
“But now we must leave immediately.”
“Are we running away from the Russians?”
The fear was back in Adela’s voice.
“The Russians are both dead. There is no time to explain now. We must go at once.”
He took her by the hand and drew her from the hut.
Walking hurriedly so that she almost had to run, they reached the garden and when they were almost at the house Michael stopped.
“What I want you to do, Adela, is to go to the stables.
I expect you will find a groom on duty. Wake him up if he is asleep and tell him to put our horses into the chaise.”
Adela was listening, but she was still holding tightly onto his hand.
“I will join you as quickly as I can and I will bring our luggage with me. Do you understand what you have to do?”
“Yes, I understand.”
She turned and ran along the side of the house towards the stables.
Michael let himself in through the door he had left unbolted and ascended the side staircase.
When he reached the first floor he walked quickly along the corridor to the far end where the Master Suite was located.
There was no one to be seen and he reckoned that those who had drunk so deeply at dinner would be asleep in the State bedrooms.
He opened the door of the room where every Duke of Grangemoore had slept for centuries.
The room was in darkness except that the curtains were drawn back from one window and there was just enough light from the moon for Michael to see that someone was lying in the huge four-poster draped with red velvet curtains.
He turned back and taking a candle from one of the silver sconces in the passage, he carried it into the room.
He drew near the bed and holding the candle in his left hand, he looked down.
Cyril’s head was lying against the pillows and he appeared to be asleep, but Michael’s long experience in India told him that he was dead.
There was no need to touch his hand to know if it was growing cold.
Michael knew that there would be no mark or stain on the body to tell anyone he had been murdered.
He had learnt before he left India that the Russians had invented a new poison that was very potent when injected into their victim’s veins.
The poison acted within a few seconds and there was no mark on the skin to show where the injection had been appli
ed. Once a man had been given this new poison there was no chance of reviving him.
Michael looked down at Cyril for some moments.
He realised that the Russians had assumed that as the new Duke it was he who would be residing in the Master Suite.
Cyril’s intention to destroy him so that he could take his place had brought about his own demise.
Michael was certain that it would be a great mistake for him to stay. He must not be at Grangemoore when the doctor pronounced that Cyril had died of a heart attack.
And in addition on no account must Adela come into contact with the dreadful friends he had brought to the Hall.
Michael left the Master Suite and placed the candle back into the silver sconce.
Next he ran up to the second floor and packed his own clothes with a swiftness which would have been the envy of any valet. Then he went into Adela’s bedroom where he found the bag she had brought with her and he piled into it everything he could find.
Only when he saw her jewel case in one of the drawers did he pause for a moment to see if it was properly closed. It was not and he had a glimpse of some magnificent emeralds fashioned into a necklace.
It made him remember that Adela had said her father had prospected for metals and precious stones in Russia and this had explained why she had been able to understand Russian.
She might have been an ordinary English girl who had never travelled abroad and if so, Michael knew at this moment, he would have been a dead man.
Even if later the Russians suspected he was still alive, he would have been hunted like a fox until they finally found him.
‘How can I have been so lucky as to meet anyone so resourceful and so beautiful?’ he mumbled to himself.
He pushed her remaining belongings into the bag and carrying it and his own cases, he walked down the stairs into the hall.
He had not as butler ordered one of the footmen on night duty, as would have been usual. He had thought it unnecessary and it would have been bad for those young men to see the disgraceful state Cyril and his friends would be in when they retired upstairs to bed.
There were just a few lights burning in the hall, enough for him to unbolt the door and pile his suitcases and Adela’s bag onto the steps outside.
He opened the door into the morning room to see if the drugged heiress was still there and found that she was still lying exactly where he had left her on the sofa.
Danger to the Duke Page 10
