The housekeeper's pale face looked more pinched than ever as she gazed searchingly at the other, who looked completely taken aback; and then she darted a sharp glance at Arthur, who evidently expected it and did not look, but busied himself in bringing a little bit of vanity well into sight, the said piece of vanity taking the shape of a couple of bronze fox-head cuff studs, which he drew beyond the sleeves of his coat. "You can go down into your pantry and get what you require," said the housekeeper, coldly, and she made way for the butler to enter. Arthur was about to follow. "No," she said sharply, "you can wait." "Wait--here, ma'am?" "Yes," said the housekeeper, decisively, and she made as if to shut the door. "Or, no; you can sit down inside." Arthur brightened up, and stepped in jauntily, the housekeeper closing the door. "You need not take your portmanteau down with you, Roach." "No, ma'am, of course not," said the butler, respectfully. "Here, I'll mind that, Mr Roach, sir," said the footman, stepping forward to take the valise, after standing his own on end. The butler was a few steps in the hall, the housekeeper between them, and a little on Arthur's right, as he took a step forward, taking his overcoat from his arm and shaking it out the while, as if about to double it afresh. Then, quick as thought, he stepped aside, threw it over the woman's head, and twisted it together. "Now, old man; her legs, sharp!" Roach stood for a moment as if bewildered. Then at an oath from his companion, he stepped forward, threw his arms round the struggling woman's legs, lifted her up, and in spite of her smothered cries bore her right to the end of the passage. "Down with her; pantry," said the footman, sharply, and they carried her quickly down the basement to the butler's pantry, where they laid her on the table. "Fetch the trunks, old man," said Arthur, loudly. "I can manage. Quiet, you old cat, or I'll choke you!" He tightened the coat with a couple, of twists as he spoke, but the faint cry continued. "Bah! let her squeak; she might howl for a month, and no one could hear." This, for the butler looked unnerved. He went up directly, though, and as soon as he was gone Arthur put his face to the coat, close to the old lady's ear. "You just listen," he said. "You've had your innings, and led me a pretty devil of a life with your nasty ways. It's my turn now. Quiet, curse you! Stop that row, or as sure as you're a living woman now, you'll want a coffin to-morrow." "What--what is it you want. Money?" came faintly. "Never you mind what we want, old girl. There, you needn't kick and struggle; we don't want to carry you off and marry you by force, so lie still. Ah, that's right; look sharp. My Gladstone, not yours. Get out the rope." The butler, whose face was now mottled with white patches, opened one of the portmanteaus and took out a cord.