I walked slowly toward the terrace in the shadow of the trees, deep in bewilderment. What should I say to Una? Half unconsciously I glanced up at her window, the corner one over the terrace. Something white stirred and I thought I heard a sound, a faint sound, and then a strangling hush.
But all other considerations were as nothing beside the mystery of Jerry's manner and appearance, and his sudden flight filled me with the gravest fears. What had he done at Briar Hills, what horrible thing? Could it be that the boy had--? I shrank in dismay from the terrible thought that came into my mind. I went hurriedly into the house and without ceremony waked the sleeping Jack. He aroused himself with difficulty but when I told him what had happened he came quickly to life.
"You--you're sure you're not mistaken?" he asked, still bewildered.
"Haven't I told you that I saw the boy with my own eyes, that something dreadful has happened today at Briar Hills and that he's flying from the results of it? Come, Jack. We must go there at once."
"By all means," he said, springing up with an air of decision. "My car," and then as we started for the garage, "you don't mean to say that you believe the boy has--?"
The terrible words would not come. The mere thought of mentioning them frightened him as they had done me.
"God knows," he muttered miserably. "Violence--but not--not that."
In a moment we were in the car, rushing through the night toward the lower gate. Briar Hills was not more than four miles from the Manor as the crow flies, but fully twelve by the lower road. Jack wasted no time and we sped along the empty driveways of the estate at a furious pace. The cool damp air of the lowlands refreshed and stimulated us and we were now keenly alert and thinking hard. The lodge gates were kept open now and we went roaring through them and out into the country roads where the going was not so good. Neither of us had dared to repeat our former questions which were still uppermost in our minds. The topic was prohibitive and until we knew something silence were better.
It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, twenty-five at the most, before we reached the gates of the Van Wyck place, though it seemed an age to me. Then at my suggestion Jack slowed down and we went up the drive as quietly as possible. I don't know what we expected to see when we got there, but the sight of the house with lights burning in the windows here and there did something to reassure us. After debating a plan of action we drove boldly up to the house and got out. The front door upon the veranda was wide open but there was no sound within or without. Jack was for dashing in at once and searching the premises but I took him by the arm.