Giff halted, waving a hand towards the ruin. “I see no reason to spoil everyone’s enjoyment of the day. We have one of them, and the other is no doubt long gone. I shall return with my servant, Miss Watkinson, and we will take the felon. The rest of you must carry on regardless.”
But the redoubtable matron would not hear of this. “We could not think of it, Mr Giffard. I for one could take no further enjoyment under such conditions. I am sure I speak for all in this.”
Delia had to suppress a desire to burst into laughter as the faces round about showed varying degrees of dismay. It was evident no one had the courage to gainsay their leader.
The matter was settled by Lord Tarporley. “I should not dream of letting you manage alone, sir. And I could not think of allowing my sister to remain without my escort.”
“Quite so, sir,” said Miss Watkinson. “Let us make our way back to the carriages at once.”
She began to herd her reluctant sheep back in the direction from which they had come. Delia hung back, hoping for a word with Giff, deep in conversation with his servant.
Lord Tarporley bowed. “May I suggest you return with the others, Miss Burloyne? I will remain with Mr Giffard and see to his comfort.”
There seemed to be nothing else she could do without giving herself away. But at this moment, Barney, who had stood with bowed head throughout, made a bid for freedom. Wrenching his arm from the Indian’s grip, he took to his heels. The Indian servant belted after him, but he was a much older man and Barney was running like a hare.
“Hi, you!”
Lord Tarporley started after them, but Giff called him back.
“No need, sir!”
He whistled. Tiger, who’d been standing quietly, instantly took off, cantering after the runners and overtaking the Indian in seconds. He was brought up short by the broken walls of the building as Barney, beating the horse by a hair, slipped through a gap and vanished from sight.
Lord Tarporley had halted, but at this he cursed and rushed towards the building, diving through the gap. The Indian followed suit.
Delia awaited the outcome, moving to join Giff, who was emitting an exasperated curse.
“Too late!”
“You think he’ll get away?”
“I hope he does!”
Delia stared. “Are you mad, Giff?”
“No, I was already exercised by the difficulties confronting us if the wretch hadn’t escaped.”
“What difficulties?”
He eyed her. “Can’t you see? You think the fellow would keep his mouth shut? I’m ready to wager he’d not go down alone if he was faced with gaol.”
Light dawned. “You mean he’d confess he was hired by Piers?”
“Exactly. That would really put the cat among the pigeons.”
“But it would stop Piers surely?”
“And involve me in explanations I have no desire to make. At least not yet. Besides opening the whole affair to scandalous gossip.”
“But you’d be safer, wouldn’t you?”
“Those two won’t dare show themselves again, I’m persuaded.”
Torn, Delia watched with anxious eyes for the two hunters to reappear. Tiger was patrolling the edge of the edifice, emitting snorts as he wandered back and forth, poking his head into gaps.
At a whistle from Giff, he desisted and came trotting back to his master, dropping his head into Giff’s chest. Delia watched Giff stroke his nose and utter soft words in a language she didn’t understand.
He turned his head to look at her. “You ought to go back to the others, Delia.”