"Look at that," he said, handing the letter to Iris. "Does the assassin
take me for a fool?"
She read the lines that follow: "Unforeseen events force me, Sir Giles, to run a serious risk. I must
speak to you, and it must not be by daylight. My one hope of safety is
in darkness. Meet me at the first milestone, on the road to Garvan,
when the moon sets at ten o'clock to-night. No need to mention your
name. The password is: Fidelity."
"Do you mean to go?" Iris asked.
"Do I mean to be murdered!" Sir Giles broke out. "My dear child, do
pray try to think before you speak. The Sergeant will represent me, of
course."
"And take the man prisoner?" Iris added.
"Certainly!"
With that startling reply, the banker hurried away to receive the
police in another room. Iris dropped into the nearest chair. The turn
that the affair had now taken filled her with unutterable dismay.
Sir Giles came back, after no very long absence, composed and smiling.
The course of proceeding had been settled to his complete satisfaction.
Dressed in private clothes, the Sergeant was to go to the milestone at
the appointed time, representing the banker in the darkness, and giving
the password. He was to be followed by two of his men who would wait in
concealment, within hearing of his whistle, if their services were
required. "I want to see the ruffian when he is safely handcuffed," Sir
Giles explained; "and I have arranged to wait for the police, to-night,
at my office."
There was but one desperate way that Iris could now discern of saving
the man who had confided in her godfather's honour, and whose trust had
already been betrayed. Never had she loved the outlawed Irish lord--the
man whom she was forbidden, and rightly forbidden, to marry--as she
loved him at that moment. Let the risk be what it might, this resolute
woman had determined that the Sergeant should not be the only person
who arrived at the milestone, and gave the password. There was one
devoted friend to Lord Harry, whom she could always trust--and that
friend was herself.
Sir Giles withdrew, to look after his business at the bank. She waited
until the clock had struck the servants' dinner hour, and then ascended
the stairs to her godfather's dressing-room. Opening his wardrobe, she
discovered in one part of it a large Spanish cloak, and, in another
part, a high-crowned felt hat which he wore on his country excursions.
In the dark, here was disguise enough for her purpose.