Bagshot had been thrown against her, but he had not been rendered unconscious. He moved almost at once, scrambling out the window, which was now directly over their heads, since the coach was lying on its side. As soon as he was gone Marianne felt it would be safe to scream, which she did with extreme vigor. The sounds of struggle continued outside. Between screams she strained her ears, trying to discover what was happening, but heard only indistinguishable cries of rage and pain.

The sounds finally died away. Marianne emitted a final scream, the loudest of the lot, and sank back, breathless. For an interval nothing happened; she had time to wonder, despairingly, if her rescuers had lost the fight, before the square of light marking the window was obscured by the black silhouette of a head and shoulder.

"Marianne," a voice said. "Speak to me! Are you conscious? Are you unwounded? Are you – er – unharmed?"

The voice was the last one Marianne had expected to hear. Dizzy with surprise and joy she managed to croak, "I can't talk. I am hoarse from screaming."

The door was wrenched open and with some effort Marianne was extracted, rather like a very large puppet from a deep packing box, for she could do nothing to help herself. Her feet had barely touched the ground when she felt herself clasped in Roger Carlton's arms.

As all admitted, the real hero of the evening was the thirteenth Duke of Devenbrook. When the rescue party reached the castle they found the boy dancing up and down on the steps in a frenzy of frustration at not having been allowed to join the pursuit; but the praises of the men and the admiring comments of Marianne restored his self-esteem, and he was delighted to explain how he had discovered the plot – too late to prevent its being carried out, but just in time to make rescue possible.

After the housekeeper had tended Marianne's bruises and wrapped her in a dozen blankets, they settled down to discuss the adventure. The Duchess alone had slept through it all, and it was unanimously agreed that she should know nothing of what had transpired.

"For it is settled now," Carlton said. "Bagshot will be some time recovering from the thrashing he received, and he knows that if he tries another trick of that nature, he will be charged and imprisoned."

His speech was not as crisp as usual, thanks to a swollen lower lip. The satisfaction with which he gazed at his scraped knuckles left Marianne in no doubt as to who had administered the thrashing referred to. Feeling that his ego was in no need of reinforcement, she turned to Henry.

"Now tell me, Your Grace, of how you discovered the plot."

"He drugged my milk," Henry explained, swelling with delight at the drama of it. "I knew he was up to something when he kept telling me to be sure I finished it; so naturally I poured it into the slop pail when his back was turned."

"You always do that with your milk, you young rascal," Carlton said, giving him an affectionate slap on the back.

"Well, but I suspected he was up to no good," the boy insisted. "He was very angry at being dismissed; I would hear him muttering to himself. I thought, perhaps he is going to steal something – Granny Honoria's jewels, or the plate. He never cared before whether I drank my milk."

"It was very clever of you," Marianne said.

The Duke beamed. "So," he resumed, "I pretended to be asleep. And I went on pretending, even when he pulled my hair and prodded me – and stuck a pin in my arm!" He cocked an eye at Marianne, who responded with an exclamation of outrage and admiration, before he resumed. "Then he opened the secret door – there is one in my bedroom, you know. He wasn't supposed to know about that, but… well, to be honest, he caught me one day. At any rate, then I was sure he was up to no good! I got up and followed him. But before I had gone far I heard him coming back, and I really had to run to get into bed before he returned. Those two frightful ruffians were with him; and I can tell you, when I saw them, I… Of course I wasn't afraid, but it made me feel very serious, I can tell you."

Carlton laughed. "If I had been in your shoes, Henry, I would have been terrified."

"Well, perhaps I was a little bit afraid. Just a little. One of them looked at me and said, 'Is the brat safe?' and Victor said I had had enough laudanum to down a grown man. Then the other man said, 'What about the girl?' and Victor said if they couldn't handle one small woman they ought to be looking for other employment, begorra."

Carlton's scraped hands clenched when he heard this. "I wish that rascal had not gotten away," he muttered. "But we'll track him down, never fear, and then… I beg your pardon, Henry. We are hanging on your words."

Though the Duke's narrative style lacked elegance, being too heavily interlarded with phrases like "Then he said," and "Then the other one said," his hearers were indeed enthralled. On hearing the words he had quoted the boy realized, with a thrill of horror, that the plot his imagination had invented had a much more serious aim than theft. It was all he could do to lie motionless until the men had left his room, by way of the secret passage. Leaping from his bed, he had had the good sense to go for help instead of trying to overcome the villains single-handed.

"I am hurt that you did not waken me," the doctor exclaimed with a look of mock reproach. "Thought I was too old and fat, eh?"

"Oh, no, sir," the Duke exclaimed. But it was clear that this was what he had thought. The doctor broke into a rumbling laugh.

"Never mind, my boy. I don't blame you. But I am glad young Roger got me up. I wouldn't have missed that chase for worlds. Made me feel twenty years younger, by Gad!"

The Duke had, in fact, gone to rouse some of the menservants. He had not known of Carlton's return, since the lawyer had only reached the castle after most of the residents had gone to bed. Reading in the library, Carlton had heard Henry rush past on his way to the servants' wing, and had gone to find out what was wrong. Though Carlton was too tactful to say so, Marianne realized that the rapid organization of the pursuit was due to him; even so, it had taken an agonizingly long time to awaken two of the grooms and get the party mounted. Henry had continued to play a leading part by going through the secret passage to Marianne's room after it was discovered that her door was locked.

Marianne groaned. "And I thought I was being so prudent!"

"It would not have mattered," Carlton assured her. "When Henry reached your room he found that the deed had been done and the villains had departed. However, there is only one road through the village and we knew they must take it; and thanks to Henry's quickness we were in time to see the carriage lights. If we had been a few minutes later, we might not have known which direction to take."

That seemed to wind up the essential parts of the story; but in deference to Henry they talked it all over a while longer and let him go into more detail about his heroism, before the doctor suggested that the victim of the kidnapping should be allowed to get the rest she needed.

Marianne was glad to obey. "I think I will take a dose of that medicine you gave me," she said, accepting the doctor's arm. "Now that it is all over, I am almost too nervous to sleep."

"Sleeping medicine?" Carlton asked alertly. "Perhaps we should all take a dose. I am keyed up myself, and so is Henry. Will you share, Miss Ransom?"

Marianne looked at his face. Shadowy bruises were now apparent, and his lip had swollen to grotesque proportions. "Are you in pain?" she asked.

"Does it look that bad?" Carlton fingered his jaw and made a wry face. "I will have to tell the Duchess I fell off my horse. What a humiliating admission."