A sudden change, however, came over her countenance, which contracted in horror, and her old eyes opened wide and white as she gazed on the back of Longcluse's hand, on which was a peculiar star-shaped scar. She drew back with a low sound, like the growl of a wicked old cat; it rose gradually to such a yell and a cry to God as made Richard's blood run cold, and lifting her hand toward her temple, waveringly, the old woman staggered back, and fell in a faint on the road. Longcluse jumped down and hammered at the window. "Hallo!" he cried to the man, "send one of your people with this old woman; she's ill. Let her go in that cab to Sir Richard Arden's house in town; you know it." And he cried to the cabman, "Lift her in, will you?" And having done his devoir thus by the old woman, he springs again into his tax-cart, snatches the reins from Sir Richard, and drives on at a savage pace for town. Longcluse threw the reins to Sir Richard when they reached David Arden's house, and himself thundered at the door. They had searched Mortlake House for Alice, and that vain quest had not wasted more than half-an-hour. He rightly conjectured that, if Alice had fled to David Arden's house, some of the servants who received her must be still on the alert. The door is opened promptly by an elderly servant woman. "Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know whether his sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake." "Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir." Longcluse stepped in, to secure a footing, and beckoning excitedly to Sir Richard, called, "Come in; all right. Don't mind the horse; it will take its chance." He walked impatiently to the foot of the stairs, and turned again toward the street door. At this moment, and before Sir Richard had time to come in, there come swarming out of David Arden's study, most unexpectedly, nearly a dozen men, more than half of whom are in the garb of gentlemen, and some three of them police. Uncle David himself, in deep conversation with two gentlemen, one of whom is placing in his breast-pocket a paper which he has just folded, leads the way into the hall. As they there stand for a minute under the lamp, Mr. Longcluse, gazing at him sternly from the stair, caught his eye. Old David Arden stepped back a little, growing pale, with a sudden frown. "Oh! Mr. Arden?" says Longcluse, advancing as if he had come in search of him. "That's enough, Sir," cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand peremptorily toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the constables, "_There's_ the man. That is Walter Longcluse." Longcluse glances over his shoulder, and then grimly at the group before him, and gathered himself as if for a struggle; the next moment he walks forward frankly, and asks, "What is the meaning of all this?" "A warrant, Sir," answers the foremost policeman, clutching him by the collar. "No use, Sir, making a row," expostulates the next, also catching him by the collar and arm.