Across the street, only a few hundred feet distant, an object emerged from the black mass of the buildings and moved rapidly along the opposite ridge of houses against the sky, drawing nearer the two watchers as it advanced, and passing right opposite. Duff Salter made it out to be a woman or a figure in a gown. It looked neither to the right nor left, and did not stoop nor cower, but strode boldly as if with right to the large residence of the Zanes, where in a minute it faded away. Duff Salter felt a little superstitious, but Calvin Van de Lear shot past him down the ladder. Duff heard the curtain at the window thrown up as the divinity student flashed his lamp and saw the door of the house whence the apparition had come, forced by the police. As he descended the ladder Calvin Van de Lear extended Duff's hat to him, and pointed across the way. They were not very prompt reaching the door of the Zane residence, but were still there in time to employ Duff Salter's key, instead of violence, to make the entry. "Gentlemen," said the deaf man, with authority, "there is no occasion of any of you pressing in here to alarm a lady. Mr. Van de Lear and myself will make the search of the house which you have already guarded, front, back, and above, and rendered it impossible for the object of your warrant to escape." The dignity and commanding stature of Duff Salter had their effect. Calvin Van de Lear and Duff Salter entered the silent house, lighted the gas, and walked from room to room, finally entering the apartment of Duff Salter himself. There sat Mike, the serving-man, in his red hair, uneven eyebrows, crutch, and wooden leg, as quietly arranging the models of vessels and steamers as if he had not anticipated a midnight call nor ceased his labor since Duff Salter had gone out. "Damnation!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, pale with exertion and rage, "are you here? I thought you were at Treaty Island." "Misther Salter," said the Irishman, "I returned, do you see, because I forgot something and wanthed a drop of your brandy, sur." Duff Salter walked up to the speaker and seized him by the lapels of his coat, and placing the other hand upon his head, tore off the entire red-haired scalp which covered him. "Andrew Zane," said Duff Salter in a low voice, "your disguise is detected. Yield yourself like a man to your father's executor. You are my prisoner!" CHAPTER IX. IN COURT. Agnes Wilt awoke and said her prayers, unconscious of any event of the night. At the breakfast-table she met Duff Salter, who took both her hands in his. "Agnes," said Duff Salter--"let me call you so hereafter--did you hear the bell toll last night?" "No," she replied with agitation. "For what, Mr. Salter?" "The good priest of Kensington is dying." "Beloved friend!" she said, as the tears came to her eyes. "And must he die uncertain of my blame or innocence? Yet he will learn it in that wiser world!"