"Now come here and lay hold. If she begins to squeal again, tighten your grip a bit." But the woman lay perfectly still now, and she did not even wince when the footman twisted the rope tightly round her ankles and knotted it fast. "Now then, over on her face, guv'nor. I must have these wrists tied behind, or she may begin to scratch." The helpless woman was turned over, her wrists firmly secured, and she was then laid on her side and the coat taken off, to reveal her wide, staring eyes, and teeth set, with the lips drawn right away. "You've killed her, my boy," whispered the butler in a hoarse voice. "Bah! Old cats like that have got nine lives," said the man, contemptuously. "Here, give me a clean glass cloth, and I'll shove a gag in her mouth." "No, no. She's bad enough as it is," whispered the butler. "Let her be." The footman looked at the old housekeeper dubiously, and then unwillingly gave up his project. "Shall we put her in the plate-closet? I have the key." Arthur laughed. "Why, that would smother her in half an hour. No; help me to lay her down on the hearth-rug. We can come and look at her now and then. But she won't move. We've pretty well frightened her to death." Judging from appearances, this was the case, and after laying the unfortunate woman on the hearth-rug, they took portmanteaus and coats and hurried out into the main passage, then into that which went off at right angles, to stop in front of the lobby door. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. AND GROWS DANGEROUS. The key the men possessed admitted them at once and the other portmanteau was opened, ready for use--a use which soon became plain. "Think it'll be all right this time?" said Roach, who was in an intense state of excitement. "Dunno till I try," was the reply. "Light up and look sharp." Roach turned to the second portmanteau, which stood inside the door, and took out a dark lantern. Then striking a match, he lit it, and in obedience to a word from his young companion, he held up the cover of the iron door key-hole with one hand, and directed the full glare of the bull's-eye on the opening with the other. Arthur had not been idle. Hastily doubling his overcoat, he made of it a pad to kneel upon, and then taking a bright new key from out of a piece of tissue paper, he began to try if it would fit. "All right," he whispered, "it goes splendidly." "Well done," panted Roach. "But be quick." "Quick be blowed! Don't you be so jolly nervous; there's no one to interrupt us now." "Well, turn the key." "Won't turn--sticks. Oil." Roach handed a little oil tin from the portmanteau, the key was withdrawn and lubricated and once more thrust in, to evidently act upon a part of the mechanism of the great lock, but that was all.