“Ysola! Ysola!” he muttered. Stooping he raised the child-like figure. “If you will kindly open the door, Mr. Knox,” he said, “I will carry my wife to her room.”
I sprang to the door and held it widely open.
Colin Camber, deadly pale, but holding his head very erect, walked in the direction of the hallway with his pathetic burden. Mis-reading the purpose written upon the stern white face, Inspector Aylesbury stepped forward.
“Let someone else attend to Mrs. Camber,” he cried, sharply. “I wish you to remain here.”
His detaining hand was already upon Camber’s shoulder when Harley’s arm shot out like a barrier across the Inspector’s chest, and Colin Camber proceeded on his way. Momentarily, he glanced aside, and I saw that his eyes were unnaturally bright.
“Thank you, Mr. Harley,” he said, and carried his wife from the room.
Harley dropped his arm, and crossing, stood staring out of the window. Inspector Aylesbury ran heavily to the door.
“Sergeant!” he called, “Sergeant! keep that man in sight. He must return here immediately.”
I heard the sound of heavy footsteps following Camber’s up the stairs, then Inspector Aylesbury turned, a bulky figure in the open doorway, and:
“Now, Mr. Harley,” said he, entering and reclosing the door, “you are a barrister, I understand. Very well, then, I suppose you are aware that you have resisted and obstructed an officer of the law in the execution of his duty.”
Paul Harley spun round upon his heel.
“Is that a charge,” he inquired, “or merely a warning?”
