Midnight. A deep stillness at the Palace; but lights burned in some of the windows. The nurse, by the doctor's orders, slept on a couch in the Bishop's bedroom. The patient was not feeling nearly so well as in the morning, and realized at last that he was very ill. He was slumbering heavily, and the nurse was deep in her first doze. A shaded lamp burned in the dressing room adjoining, and to the left, in Lady Hester's bedroom, a light showed under the door.

The unhappy woman had prepared for rest, but a great terror was upon her, and she dared not sleep until after half-past twelve. Her husband had threatened to come for the emeralds, and she believed that he would keep his word--though how he intended to communicate with her at such an hour was not clear.

The key of the safe nestled in her bosom, tied round her neck with a stout ribbon. She wore a dressing-gown, and resolved that the key should not leave her keeping under any circumstances whatever. She was bold with a desperate courage now, and determined to defy him, but weary to the verge of exhaustion. The worst that might happen could bring no more pain than the agony of suspense in which she had lived for the last few days.

The conviction was forcing itself upon her that it would be impossible to keep her secret for ever. To be in Bannister's power would make life a hell; and to rob her husband of his cherished heirlooms in this hour of sickness was equally impossible. She saw her way clearly enough now. Her only anxiety was to tide over the crisis till the Bishop should recover, and be able to face the truth--the ghastly, humiliating truth. She had no right to expect that he would forgive her. But if she paid hush-money in the form that Bannister suggested, in order to shield him from shame, he would condemn her sevenfold for adding sin to sin, deception to deception, treachery to treachery.

The door of the dressing room leading out on to the corridor was of necessity left unlocked for the convenience of the nurse, but the iron cupboard in the wall was quite secure. No person could enter without being heard in the bedrooms. Lady Hester had ceased to use that way out since the nurse required it, and communicated with the corridor by her own bedroom door.

She sat in a luxurious chair by the dressing-table, trying to read by the light of the candles, and force her mind to work coherently and surrender to discipline. She hardly expected to sleep at all that night, but she had been awake for so many hours that slumber would surely come if she could only bend her faculties to the scanning of print.

She perused many pages without understanding a line; but still she persevered, and the paragraphs were beginning to sort themselves out, and the sentences conveyed a few extraneous ideas.

She was startled by a rustling behind her, and looked round nervously. The door had been opened noiselessly, and a dark shadow in the corner of the room was closing it again. She saw a man's black coat and the gleam of a white shirt-front, and leapt up with a little scream.

Bannister raised a warning finger, and she was cowed into silence at once. The breath oozed out of her body, and she could not speak, but stood, resting one hand on the back of the chair. The book fell from her fingers to the floor with a thud. She tried to address him, but he raised his finger again, and turned the key in the door with a soft click. This audacity was amazing; yet she could not cry out, nor demand any explanation. She knew why he had come.

With cat-like tread he crossed to the other door, the one leading to the dressing room, and locked that too. She had recovered a little by this time. Her anger, was rising, and she stood glaring reproachfully. His cool insolence in entering without knocking and the quiet deliberation of his movements, turned her anger into fear. She pointed with outstretched finger to the door by which he had entered, and stood waiting for him to go, knowing perfectly well that he would do nothing of the kind.

He put out his hand in silence, and looked round the room with keen scrutiny, as much as to say, "Where are they? Give them to me." His eyes roamed over the dressing-table, but he saw no emeralds, and, coming close to her, he looked into her white face.

"You know why I have come," he whispered. "You should have been ready for me. Ah, I see you were ready. You have put on a charming gown, and that lace peeping through suggests--shall we say coquetry?"

"Leave this room! If you don't I shall raise an alarm."

"What, and compromise yourself in the eyes of your own servants? You must be hungering for scandal, my dear wife. Surely there is danger enough of that without silly scenes at midnight. Where are the emeralds?"

"In the safe."

"Then you will get them for me?"

"No. I will die first!"

"That will be quite unnecessary, my dear Hester. But if you don't give them to me I shall take the other course, and demand you instead of the gems. You are looking ravishly. Kiss me, my dear wife."

He came quite close, and looked into her eyes with more tenderness than was to be expected from a disappointed thief; but she drew away, and clasped her hands appealing for mercy. She was terrified by the light in his eyes.

He took one step forward and clasped her in his arms. She breathed heavily, and groaned as though he had struck her, but the next moment he clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.

"Steady, my dear Hester, steady. I'm not trying to throttle you. I only want to hold you in my arms for a few moments. Thus does sentiment interfere with business. Instead of hectoring, and being angry with you, and threatening, I just hold you in my arms--so. You'll have to be friends with me, and stifle that tender conscience of yours. You'll find it pleasant enough. The loss of the gems won't hurt anybody; and, as for you, you will gain a new lease of life. Things will hum once more. The dreary dullness of this stupid place has deadened your spirits. You will live again--in my arms."

"Let me go--let me go! For pity's sake--no, no! Don't force me to scream and raise an alarm, and bring the whole house here. There's a woman in the next room----"

"No, my dear, there is not. I looked in, and the room was empty."

"Hush! I heard some one."

There was certainly a slight rattling sound. They listened together intently--but he did not release her from his arms. He was magnetized by love, she paralyzed by fright.

"I'm sure I heard some one. Oh, let me go! We shall be heard."

He released her arms, but she was more absorbed in listening than in troubling about his embrace. He dropped away, and crept to the door leading to the dressing-room. This he unlocked with extreme caution, then beckoned to her to come and look out, while he opened it and stood behind. There was a light there, nothing else. It was fancy.

She drew back again and closed the door, lest the nurse should appear, and turned the key.

"Ah, you are getting sensible already, and appreciate the advantages of privacy. But we shall have to unlock the door again, because I want you to go to the safe."

He grasped her arm in a kindly way, and tried to draw her to him, but she flung him off and retreated to the other side of the room.

"No--no--no! I'll denounce you. I'll denounce you to all the world for what you are. You shall go to jail with the other thieves who have not been so successful in evading justice."

"And you, my dear, what will you do when your real husband stands in the dock and the Bishop is in the divorce court?" he asked laughingly. His eyes were sparkling, and his pale cheeks crimsoned. There was a red flush beneath the eyes--strangely like the old Dick Gordon.

"Stand away!" she cried, speaking so loudly that he faltered apprehensively. "You will leave this room at once. You will go straight out, and I shall lock the door after you."

He shook his head and smiled.

"Then I shall call for assistance and seek the protection of my husband."

"But I am your husband, darling. You can't go to the Bishop and give him a shock that might kill him. You will alarm the nurse and agitate the old man."

"I shall scream."

"If you do he'll think you're being murdered, whereas you're only being--loved."

He leapt at her and took her in his arms again. She collapsed with a sob, and covered her face with her hands. But he pressed kisses on her lips and fought with her savagely; kissing her eyes when her lips were behind her clenched hands--her cheeks, her soft white neck, and last her hair, her beautiful hair, which had only been loosely looped up and fell in fiery flames about her head. He spread it over his palms and put it to his lips, giving way to a frenzy of adoration, and sweeping all before him with his passion, while she gasped in fright, not knowing what to do, his movements were so rapid.

Now her two hands were in his, and her fingers pressed to his lips; now he dropped upon one knee, and flung his arms about her waist. His movements, though passionate and hasty, were gentle and reverent when she was passive. His tenderness disarmed her opposition, and only left her dazed and stupefied. There was no brutal ferocity. It was the old Dick who loved her, the old passion, the old wild admiration and ecstasy provoked by her strange, luminous beauty, which dazzled, bewildered, overpowered him, and rendered him, for the moment, powerless and abject in his adoration.

He was ripe at that moment for any folly that she demanded of him. If she had beseeched, and used her woman's weapons, or vouchsafed him a little tenderness, he would have abandoned everything--the emeralds, the persecution, the terrifying threats, and the brutal caresses that her opposition provoked. This was the nobler Dick Gordon, who had surrendered her years ago when she was utterly in his power--because he loved her. This was the Dick Gordon who was always kind to women--who were beautiful. This was the man with an infinite capacity for folly, whom she could have twisted round her little finger if she had descended to employ the ancient wiles and subtle artifices of her sex.

But she was too terrified. The room swam round, the lights on the table blinked, and there was only a yellow haze between them, through which her husband's melting eyes loomed bright and near. She was horrified at her own powerlessness. His lavish caresses provoked no further rage. She wanted to cry, to sob, and fight no more. With a supreme effort she mastered herself and closed her eyes, and clenching both her fists, struck him full in the face. He retreated a step or two, and recovered himself with an effort.

She was glaring like a wild cat, and ready to strike again; the man was still as stone, pale as death, recovering himself. He stood watching her contemplatively, and she was frightened. She could read the thoughts flying in his brain.

"What shall I do with her? How shall I punish her? She shall have no mercy." His fingers clenched and unclenched, as though they were coming at hen throat. His jaw moved as he positively ground his teeth with suppressed fury.

"Dick--Dick--I didn't mean to do that. You went too far--I told you that it was all finished. Dick--Dick--leave me--go away; I can see what you're thinking. Let me go!"

She tried to pass him, and rushed for the dressing room door. But he seized one wrist and swung her round. She was about to scream, but he covered her mouth. She bit his hand as he pressed her head back and slipped an arm about her waist, so that she was bent double backward, choking. He held her thus in a grip of steel till the screaming fit left her, and by the signs she made with her hands he understood that she promised to keep quiet.

"No sound, do you hear--do you understand?" he whispered in her ear, and he released her by degrees, until she fell into a chair, limp and exhausted. He bent over her and thrust out his left hand. "The key--the key of the safe! Give it to me!"

She recovered slowly, and clenched her hands obstinately; but she dared not meet his gaze, and stared at the floor. The neck of her dressing-gown had been torn open, and the lace of her _robe de nuit_ as well. The ribbon round her neck showed distinctly over the edge of the lace. His sharp eyes saw it, and he instantly divined its purpose. Without a word he suddenly slipped his fingers inside the ribbon. She shrank away, ready to protest again that she must not be touched, but the ribbon was snapped, and he whipped it out, key and all, before she realized what had happened.

"Thank you; I have helped myself," he said coldly, as he wound the ribbon round the key and put it in his pocket. "To-morrow it will be used. And to-morrow night there will be a burglary. You understand?"

She held out her hands for the key imploringly, but he walked towards the door. "Not a word of this, and no opposition, if you please. If you balk me--I'll kill you."

He looked as though he meant it. His face was colorless, except at one spot where she had struck him on the cheek, which glowed in a significant patch.

While this scene had been in progress, carried on _sotto voce_, with whisperings and sobs, there had been a listener outside the door on the corridor. He was not much wiser than when he took up his station at the keyhole. The faithful Voss had followed his master like a cat, and was at the door the moment it closed. He heard expostulations and appeals, and guessed that the gems were changing hands. Indeed, Bannister had warned him to be ready with his wire and chisel on the morrow, because a burglar might "at any moment enter the house." Although the two men were not on speaking terms, yet business was business, and Bannister had vouchsafed this necessary information, partly in the hope that it would cheer Voss and enable him to recover from his amazing sulks.

The fellow, however, was not recovering. The crushed worm had turned. He had been trodden upon too brusquely, and, unfortunately, retained no respect for the misapplied boot.

When Bannister approached the door to unlock it was the signal for Voss to leap away and hide himself flat against the wall further down the corridor. But his master did not come out for a few moments. He stood with the handle of the door in his hand, looking back at his wife, smiling in cynical triumph, but not yet recovered from his rebuff. He surveyed her callously and cruelly, and with a leering, lustful admiration.

She read his thoughts. He was meditating the worst of all brutalities. She flung up her hands as if to ward him off, and dashed for the door of the dressing room again before he could prevent her, turning the key and standing ready to escape if he showed the slightest sign of advancing. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed sneeringly as he let himself out on to the corridor, and bowed sarcastically to his trembling wife. In his own room the lights were burning; but he looked round in vain for Voss. The fellow had put everything ready for the night, and had apparently gone to bed without permission, and contrary to the usual custom.

The victorious rascal laughed at this also, muttering, "He'll get over it when it really comes to business. I've got the key--but I've lost--bah! away with sentiment! It has been the ruin of too many clever men."

He secured his door, and took the key of the safe to the light and examined it. "She'll want it back in the morning. Its absence might excite comment," he thought. Then he ransacked his portmanteau for a little box of wax. This he softened in hot water, and took a "squeeze" of the key.

He examined the pattern, and laughed contemptuously. "Why, it is a common, ordinary key--not a burglar-proof safe after all. Just a thing for holding books. Voss will be able to match this with one of his skeletons without going to the trouble of using a file."

He dropped the key into his cigar-case, and pocketed it. Then he undressed, smoking several cigarettes during the process, which was always a lengthy and very deliberate one. Once or twice he sighed as he thought of the scene in his wife's room, which had ended rather tamely. He alternated between sentimental disappointment, wounded vanity, and rage. The conviction was forced upon him that Hester would never go back to the old love, the old subjection. She was stronger, more desperate, and courageous than the timid, horrified girl of years ago, who flung herself upon his mercy, and exacted the great sacrifice upon her knees.

The present, made Dingle Hall and the respectable future seem a dull, unlovely, prosy prospect. He had not even Mabel's love now. The girl regarded him as a monster. That was his own fault for rearing her in honesty and innocence.

All the good he had ever done in life seemed to have recoiled upon him, to bring misery for his declining years.

Voss, after seeing his master safely in his room, wandered like an uneasy spirit about the corridors, listening at doors and looking out of windows. He turned his attention to those doors which showed, by the light through the crack underneath, that the occupants were not yet asleep.

One by one the lights went out, until only the sick-room, the dressing room, and Lady Hester's own apartment showed signs of life within. Bannister's own door was dark, and a full twenty minutes elapsed before Voss paid any attention to that room. Then he knelt upon the mat and put his ear to a panel in a vain endeavor to listen to the sleeper's breathing. He was dissatisfied with his want of success, and afraid to enter. He stole down the corridor again to Lady Hester's room. The light here was extinguished at last, from which he assumed that her ladyship had retired for the night. All was still in the sick-room. Apparently everybody was in that first strong sleep which is generally the deepest.

He returned to his master's door and listened again. He could hear nothing, but the clock below chimed the half-hour, and impatience got the better of him. Again kneeling on the mat, he turned the handle ever so slowly--a scarcely perceptible movement--until the door moved inwards, and opened far enough for him to thrust his head through and peer in.

An uneasy sigh and a deep-drawn breath told him that troubled sleep had settled on his master, and that it was safe to enter cautiously on his hands and knees.

Voss was "on his own" to-night, and bent upon a treacherous undertaking. He was staking all upon one hazard. He moved so slowly and patiently that even if the sleeper had not been deep in the slumber pit and dreaming of other things, he would not have heard him.

Now he was at the dressing-table, with one stealthy hand creeping at the exact spot where Bannister was accustomed to put his watch and chain and the contents of his pockets. With methodical precision Bannister had followed his usual custom; everything was there, even to the purse containing the key of the safe, and some loose gold. He had supposed his belongings to be quite safe, and the idea of Voss rebelling and taking such an audacious step never entered his head for one moment. Voss knew exactly where his master would put the precious key, and located it in a few moments. The watch and the chain and the coins were transferred silently as well.

He crawled swiftly away now, but just as silently, and at last stood upright in the corridor; closing the door behind him, but first taking the precaution to remove the key and insert it outside.

To lock Mr. Bannister in was the next step, and it was accomplished noiselessly. After that he turned his attention to the other rooms. Locked doors were not the rule in the Palace. The keys were big and old-fashioned, and small bolts above the locks answered all the needs of the occupants. Consequently, when, earlier in the day, Voss had put the keys outside, no one noticed the change. The locks worked smoothly, thanks to a preliminary oiling, and Miss Cardew, Beatrice and Mabel, and lastly Jack, in his little room at the other side of the house, were all locked in by the cautious thief. Access to the Bishop's corridor from the servants' quarters could only be had from the back stairs through a green baize door, which was never locked--indeed, it had no lock. He could not fasten this, but he was equal to this emergency. He screwed a stout gimlet through the woodwork into the frame, and nothing short of a sledge hammer or a jimmy would have opened it.

These preparations complete, he turned his attention to his personal appearance. He was wearing a short dust coat, and from a capacious inner pocket drew out a large cricket cap, a size too big for him, and drew it down over his eyes till the peak touched the tip of his nose. It was as effective as a mask. Over his shoes he drew a pair of thick woollen stockings. Thus attired he was ready to tackle the dressing room and the safe.

He listened outside Lady Hester's and the Bishop's room as well, and stopped upon the mat of the dressing room. He was shaking with tense excitement, and his fingers played eagerly upon the key of the safe. Ere he turned the handle he remembered a weapon of defence in an inner pocket, and brought it to a convenient outer one. It was a knuckle duster. He also carried a revolver, which he thrust into his waistcoat, below his tie, after loosening the top button. It was uncomfortable, but handy, and the little black stock was ready to be gripped at a moment's notice.

The dressing room door opened easily enough. A dim lamp burned within, and the room was empty. The door of the Bishop's bedroom was closed--this was a stroke of luck, for he had fully expected to have to crawl past the open door on his stomach, and run the risk of being seen by a wakeful invalid. His exultation was so intense that he stepped into the room with a bound, and his woollen covered boots slid on the polished parquet. The stockings, which were noiseless and gave a steady foothold on carpet, slid away on the polished wood and nearly sent him sprawling.

He recovered, breathless and palpitating, ready to retreat at the first sound; but after a few moments of anxious listening, with every nerve strained to such a tension that his brain threatened to snap, while the light of the lamp blinked in his eyes in a yellow haze that blotted out his sight, he made a dash on tiptoe for the door of the safe.

The key fitted easily, worked without complications, and the contents were at his mercy. He could not resist dragging open the door with a mighty pull, ready to make a blind grab at the contents and defy all the world, if necessary, now that the die was cast.

The safe opened with a great sob, as such things do when a vacuum is suddenly created by the moving bulk of the iron door, and the latch of Lady Hester's door rattled ever so slightly as though from the sudden displacement of air. She was not asleep, but was far enough away from immediate surroundings to be brought back to consciousness of her position by the rattling of the lock and that strange, dull "pouf" of the opening safe. It was more fanciful than real, and all was quiet enough; yet she leaped out of bed, quaking with terror. Bannister's assertion that the robbery would take place to-morrow had given her a respite: now she realized, in a rush, that the jewels were at his mercy to-night if he chose to take them.

With stealthy, shaking fingers she slipped on a dressing gown, intending to light her candles and sit up for the rest of the night with the door of her dressing room open.

The light through the keyhole of the dressing room door gleamed like a golden bead, then went out, and flashed alight again. Some one was passing to and fro in the next room.

"He has deceived me--he has deceived me--he is rifling the safe."

Her first impulse was to rush out and denounce him, but dread of exposure and amazement at his audacity held her spellbound. She dared not raise an alarm. If she interfered with him now, there was no knowing what violence he might do. But to allow the robbery without a protest she would not.

Not pausing to put on anything more than her dressing gown, and with bare feet, she stepped out onto the dark corridor, intending to waylay the thief after he left the dressing room, and threaten, and frighten him--if that were possible.

The door of the dressing room was standing open. She waited. The stillness within was so intense that, for a moment, her fears died down, and she imagined that she had been needlessly alarmed by the movements of the nurse. She took one step within the room and stood paralyzed with fear.

The door of the safe was open, and the contents of the upper shelf were strewn about the floor. A hunched-up figure was stooping, half in and half out of the safe, and groping excitedly--so eagerly that he forgot to muffle his heavy breathing, which made a considerable noise.

This was not her husband. The squat figure in the hideous cap suggested a ruffian at first. But he did not look large or powerful, and she mastered her fear. One cry would raise an alarm, and the nurse was at hand. She drew back until the door hid her, and peeped round.

In lightning fashion she reviewed the situation, and in those watching moments found time to wonder whether her husband would be driven to a frenzy of revenge if she balked this rascal, who was doing his dirty work, and what would happen to herself.

A sudden gasp of excitement from the crouching figure.

He had alighted upon the treasure. The jewels clicked as he gathered them in handfuls and slipped them into the inside pockets of his coat.

This was more than flesh and blood could stand. She raised her hand, and held it poised one moment--only for one moment--then thrust the door open noisily and entered.

"What are you doing here? You are a thief! Help!"

She screamed the last word, and Voss, who was down on one knee, almost fell over backwards in his confusion and amazement. She rose white and tall in front of him, like an apparition, with arms extended, as if about to pounce upon him. Her eyes blazed in the light of the lamp, and her wonderful hair streamed about her colorless face, red as blood. She recognized him when he stood up.

"Oh, it's you, you rascal!" she cried. "Help!"

His two hands went for her throat. She backed away from him, alert and courageous, with desperation; but in her retreat she struck the open door and closed it behind her inadvertently. Thus she effectually barred his way of escape.

"Help!" she screamed again, and the nurse in the Bishop's room began wrenching at the handle of the carefully locked door. Voss leaped at the disturber again, and seized her throat and flung her round, but she clung to his coat in falling, and held on to him like a wild cat, and he could not shake her off.

"Leave go!--do you hear?--or it'll be the worse for you," he hissed, thrusting her away with his left hand and groping in his pocket with the right for a weapon.

She divined his intention and seized his wrist, and at the same moment struggled to her feet again. He made another dash at her, and caught her as she was tottering. He swung her round and dashed her across the room, so that she fell backwards on the sharp edge of the latch of the open safe door with a horrible thud, and went down like lead, sprawling her length upon the polished floor. He stumbled and slipped as he recovered his balance, and cursed, and was about to raise his weapon to strike her into silence, when his eyes fell upon her white, upturned face, parted lips, and rolling eyes. He stayed his hand. He was only half a ruffian, and preferred quiet methods. She no longer impeded his flight, and was incapable of rising. By her side lay the magnificent necklace which had dropped from his hand in the struggle. He grabbed at it, and stuffed it inside his coat with the other gems and fled. It was now that he reaped to the full the benefit of his policy of locked doors.

The nurse could not get into the dressing room in response to Lady Hester's appeal, and rattled helplessly at the lock. The thief was down the stairs and out of a window, by a route previously prepared, before her cry found an echo in the house. The other occupied rooms were far away; so she resorted to the window.

The Bishop had started up in bed, and sank back helpless. In answer to his inquiries she explained in a few words that something had happened to Lady Hester in the next room, and she had heard cries for help, but could do nothing.

The locked door at once suggested treachery and a burglary.

"The safe is in that room," gasped the Bishop, as he struggled with the thumping of his heart. The nurse screamed out of the window, and presently other windows opened, and the men servants were alarmed. Jack himself at the other side of the house was one of the first to answer. He dashed for his door, but, finding it locked, turned to the window and let himself down that way on to the leads of the library below.

Yet nearly half an hour elapsed before any one could get to the dressing room, so artfully had Voss laid his plans. Bannister himself was the last to hear the commotion. He listened to the patter of feet and talk of excited voices, and at first supposed that the Bishop had had a relapse--or perhaps Mabel had succumbed. For the first time for many years he went sick with agonized suspense. His child was more to him than he had ever imagined. He almost resented his womanish weakness; his hands shook and his teeth chattered, as he groped for a light. When he lit a candle he noticed nothing unusual. His dressing gown was where he had thrown it, and he slipped it on and tried to go out onto the corridor. The locked door angered him, but at first he supposed it to be an accident, and groped for the key.

The sounds in the house grew louder. Men's voices could be heard shouting from outside. From the window he saw lanterns waving. It was either a burglary or a fire, but as there were no flames the idea of fire was ruled out. It must be a burglary. For a few moments he stood ready to laugh at the amazing coincidence of a real thief's attack upon the house just at the time when he was planning a sham affair of the same kind. When he remembered the stupid, insecure safe he quaked for his emeralds. He gave one glance at the dressing table, where the key rested safely in his purse--and lo! the purse was gone. His watch and chain--his money--everything of value--even the gold cigar case.

Voss!--it was Voss!

He almost yelled with rage. He cursed and swore.

"The scoundrel--the traitor!" He made another futile attempt upon the locked door, and beat upon it with his fists.

The servants on the corridor called out that they were unable to relieve him. All the doors were locked, and the keys were missing. The gardener had gone for a hammer to break them in.

Jack was the first person to reach the Bishop's corridor. He gained entrance to the house by the very window through which Voss had made his escape, and came rushing upstairs just as the servants reached the lower portion of the house by the back staircases and the servants' wing. He ran to the dressing room, and the sight that met his gaze made him gasp for a few moments.

The safe stood open and its contents were strewn about the floor. In front of it Lady Hester lay upon her back, senseless and still as death. From her forehead a thin stream of blood had started, and the crimson stream had trickled to the floor.

"What has happened--what is it?" he asked of the motionless form, and bent over it. Ere he touched her limp and lifeless fingers an impatient demand from the nurse at the door of his father's room drew him away.

He turned the key, which Voss had left in the lock, and the woman came out, white and scared.

"What is it, sir--what has happened?"

"For God's sake, tell me what has happened, Jack?" cried the Bishop piteously.

The nurse gave one glance down, and looked at the young master in speechless horror. He raised one finger warningly. "You mustn't tell him," and with admirable promptness replied--

"Burglars, father. They've been at the safe."

"But your mother. I thought I heard a cry."

"Yes, she's fainted, father. The nurse is bringing her round."

"No worse?" murmured the Bishop. "I feared it might have been--ah--thank God." He sank back on his pillow.

Jack closed the door and shut him in, then ran out onto the corridor and hushed the loud voices of the excited servants who were hurrying up the stairs.

"Remember my father is ill. Go quietly. Her ladyship is hurt. One of you go for the doctor, and let some one fetch the police. Where's the chauffeur who came down with me from town?"

"Here I am, sir," cried the man, who was among those crowding in the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.

"Get the car round. Bring me a big coat. I'll go myself."

His attention was drawn away by a violent beating on the panels of a door lower down the corridor, and he thought of his wife. He dashed that way, only to find Beatrice inside Mabel's room calling for release.

"Is all well with you?" he cried.

"Yes," she replied, "but we are locked in."

"But Mabel; is she all right?"

"Yes. Mabel, speak to him yourself."

A tremulous voice reassured him, but further sounds were drowned by the banging on Bannister's door.

"Who's there?" cried Jack, not knowing exactly where he was in the darkness.

"It is I, Bannister. Let me out, I'm locked in."

"Pull the handle, then, and I'll go for the door with my shoulder."

In a few moments the old latch gave way, and Bannister appeared. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.

"A burglary. And my mother--God knows what's happened to her?"

"Fright?"

"No--worse. I'm afraid--attacked--and----"

"Don't tell me he's hurt her," cried Bannister hoarsely. "Where is she?"

Bannister followed Jack into the dressing room and saw Hester lying pale and still in the nurse's arms. On her forehead was a thin red line, where the sharp corner of the safe latch, sharp as a knife, had struck her temple.

The nurse released her burden and laid her gently down, shaking her head ominously.

"Is it----?" Jack's question stuck in his throat.

The nurse did not answer.

"Hester, Hester!" cried her husband hoarsely, dropping down beside her, and overcome for the first time in his life by real, heart-stabbing sorrow. She looked so white and young and calm, like the Hester of the old days. The room swam round; he saw nothing but the dull, fixed, sightless eyes.

When he recovered he found himself being supported by Jack, who gripped his arm.

"This is horrible, Bannister--the work of some murderous thief. She evidently surprised him at the safe."

"Yes, yes."

"We must catch him. Keep the other door shut. Don't let my father know--you understand, nurse?"

"I understand."

"You must tell him lies. If he were to receive such a shock now, there's no knowing what might happen."

"I'll do all I can, sir, but----" she shook her head. "Let some one fetch the doctor."

The whole household by this time had assembled. Everybody was there except Aunt Caroline, and nobody thought of her. She, too, was locked in, in another part of the house where the sounds of the alarm had not penetrated, and was sleeping peacefully. Jack took Bannister with him round the house when the lamps were lighted, and the guest was forced to attend to the young man's excited explanations and discoveries. It did not take long to see that the robbery was the work of some one in the house.

"Let all the servants be assembled in the hall," cried Jack. "Every single soul in the house must come before me. And lock every door."

Bannister followed dumbly, like a man in a dream. His senses were gradually returning; and his wild rage against Voss helped him to forget the still form upstairs.

Everybody came with alacrity to face the young master.

"Are all here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. All but the chauffeur, and he's coming round with the car now."

"Where's my man, Voss?" exclaimed Bannister, controlling himself with an effort.

"I've been to his room, sir," said the footman. "But he's not there, and his bed hasn't been slept in. His bags were sent away yesterday."

"Then he must be the thief," cried Jack, turning upon Bannister. "Was he honest?"

"Yes, twenty years' service to his record. But I'll have him. I know where to run him to earth. I can give a shrewd guess where he will go first. It's a question of my getting there before him. Keep the car for a few moments while I dress. You can go to the police and to the doctor and back. I'll go on with the car."

"Go on where?"

"To London. He is making across country to the other railway and will arrive before you can set the wires working. But the car may race the train, and if I get there first--by God----"

The rest of the threat was lost as Bannister ran to his room.

Set a thief to catch a thief. He knew that Voss's secret hoard of money was hidden at the flat in town, and he would be certain to be there first and ransack the place before making off for Amsterdam.