The farmer repaired to his bedroom, taking the two guns――his own and his brother’s――with him. At his suggestion his two friends had carried up their weapons into their bedroom in the earlier portion of the evening. This might appear a little singular, but John Ashbrook had playfully observed to Cheadle and Jamblin that there was sometimes a hare to be seen out of the bedroom window, feeding on the orchard grass of a morning. “And so,” he observed jocosely, “if you see one to-morrow morning you will of course be able to knock him over.” “We will do our best should there be one,” said both gentlemen. In less than half an hour after the party had broken up all the inmates of Oakfield House were soundly sleeping. All save one. This was Jane Ryan, the girl who had exchanged a few parting words with her master, or, more properly speaking, with one of her masters, for John and Richard Ashbrook were partners. A strange sense of coming evil had taken possession of the girl, who sat moodily and dejected in the kitchen long after the other members of the household had retired to rest. Jane did not feel disposed to seek repose; she was restless and disturbed, albeit she was quiet, moving from place to place in a stealthy way, in direct variance with her usual manner. “I cannot sleep,” she murmured; “and so I will e’en keep watch for one hour or more.” She put some fresh coals on the kitchen fire, before which she sat for some time absorbed in thought. Leaving her there, we will take a survey of the exterior of the house and its surroundings. It was two o’clock in the morning. The rain had ceased; the moon was shining brightly, and covered the fields with a pale, lustrous light; the stars sparkled in the rain-drops which were hanging from the leaves, and so clothed the trees with a mantle of diamonds. All was silent in the fields, for the birds and insects of the night were torpid till summer came once more. All was silent in the yard――the cattle sleeping on their beds of straw, and the fowls upon their wooden perches. Seen by the pale moonlight the old farmhouse was a picture worthy of an artist’s pencil. On the northern side of Oakfield ran a narrow lane, skirted by a dense mass of foliage, which threw the lane into sombre darkness. The lane itself rose abruptly as it neared the farm, which stood on the upland. In this lane the forms of three men might be seen. The first of these is Charles Peace. Standing facing him is the notorious “cracksman” Ned Gregson, better known by the name of the “Bristol Badger.” The last of the three is known as “Cooney;” he is a tinker by trade, but he is a sort of jackal to rogues of a greater degree than himself. The three men are in close converse. They had come suddenly to halt, as if doubtful as to their course of action.