"Good-afternoon, my lord," said this individual as the door closed behind the butler. "If you will be good enough to take a seat, Mrs. O’Halloran will be down in a few moments." His lordship did as he was requested, and while doing so commented on the weather, and allowed his eyes to wander round the room. He took in the grand piano, the easy chairs on either side of the book-case, and the flower-stand in the window. He could see that there was plain evidence of wealth in these things. What his next thought would have been can only be conjectured, for he was suddenly roused from his reverie by hearing the man say in a gruff voice: "it’s all up, my lord. If you move or attempt to cry out, you’re a dead man!" Swinging round he discovered a revolver barrel pointed at his head. He uttered an involuntary cry of alarm, and made as if he would rise. "Sit down, sir," said the clergyman authoritatively. "Are you mad that you disobey me? You do not know with whom you are trifling." "What do you mean?" cried the astonished peer, his eyes almost starting from his head. "I demand to be told what this behavior means. Are you aware who I am?" "Perfectly," the other replied. "As to your other question, you will know nothing more than I choose to tell you. What’s more, I should advise you to hold your tongue, unless you desire to be gagged. That would be unpleasant for all parties." Then, turning to the door, he cried: "Come in, Dick!" A moment later the military individual, who had been to Waterloo to arrange about the train, entered the room to find the Most Noble the Marquis of Laverstock seated in an easy chair, almost beside himself with terror, with the venerable clergyman standing over him revolver in hand. "Dick, my lad," said the latter quietly, "his lordship has been wise enough to hear reason. No, sir, thank you, your hands behind your back, as arranged, if you please. If you don’t obey me I shall blow your brains out, and it would be a thousand pities to spoil this nice Turkey carpet. That’s right. Now, Dick, my lad, I want his lordship’s pocket-book from his coat and those sheets of note-paper and envelopes we brought with us. I carry a stylographic pen myself, so there is no need of ink." These articles having been obtained, they were placed on a table beside him, and Carne took possession of the pocket-book. He leisurely opened it, and from it took the cheque for one hundred thousand pounds, signed by the chairman and committee of the Canary Island Relief Fund, which had been drawn that afternoon. "Now take the pen," he said, "and begin to write. Endeavor to remember that I am in a hurry, and have no time to waste. Let the first letter be to the bank authorities. Request them, in your capacity of Chairman of the Relief Fund, to hand to the bearers the amount of the cheque in gold." "I will do no such thing," cried the old fellow sturdily. "Nothing shall induce me to assist you in perpetrating such a fraud."