THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

                            CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE   

Granville left the club house and started out across the yard. With the spectacle of the fight over many of the men had left, but quite a few remained behind, drinking and brawling. There was still plenty of noise to mask any other sounds.

    Tension and excitement was still palpable in the air and he felt it in his veins; his blood still riled up at the ferocity of the fight.

    He looked towards the dark windows of the rooms above the stable. She was there now, afraid and helpless. He could imagine her terror when she saw him enter the room, and knew what he had in mind for her.

    His pulses quickened, and with renewed excitement soaring he climbed the outside stairs and taking his key, made to unlock the door.

    The door was ajar!

    He stood still in the doorway, listening. In contrast to the rowdiness of the yard outside the rooms seemed unnaturally silent.

    He was certain he had locked the door behind him when he had left earlier. Or had he? His senses then had been so elevated at securing her at last, he was now unsure.

    But she could not have escaped her bonds. It was impossible. He would find her there still.

    He strode quickly to the last room, thrust open the door and stared in dismay at the empty bed. The ropes that had once bound her so strongly were flung down across it as though mocking him.

    She could not be gone! She could not have escaped her punishment.

    His mind would not believe the evidence of his eyes. He went across to the bed and put his hands on it, feeling around as though looking for something lost.

    Eleanor had escaped him. She had deprived him of his revenge. The emptiness of the room seemed to scorn him.

    With a cry of impotent rage he fell heavily to his knees beside the bed, as the truth engulfed him like a naked flame. He leaned his head on the bed and stretched out his arms across it, pounding the bed ferociously with his fists in aggravated wrath.

    No! No! No!

    And then, like a child whose favourite toy has been taken from him, he began to cry bitter tears; disappointment and loss lay like heavy stones in his chest.

Granville was slumped against the side of the empty bed; his tears having exhausted him. He became aware that the noise from outside had abated. How long had he lain here like this?

    He pushed himself to his feet; his eyes averted from the bed, and went out into the other room. There was liquor there and he needed it.

    He down the first glass of whisky at one swallow, poured another and sat down. He must think. He must plan.

    With exhaustion came a slowing of the turmoil in his mind and he could reason more clearly.

    Eleanor could not have escaped unaided. Of that he was certain. Someone had helped her. Someone had been watching him all the while. The idea made him shiver.

    Someone knew what he had done and that gave them power over him. Who was it? Who could have known so much of his plans as to be able to take his prize from under his nose?

    He had an unknown enemy. Suddenly, he was afraid.

The hansom cab stopped outside the house in Grosvenor Square and Eleanor and her two escorts alighted. Every lamp and candle in the house seemed to be in use, as a glow from every window fell onto the street.