Leigh hardly heard his sister's words, for he hurried out and sprang into the dog-cart, where the groom was full of the past day's trouble, and ready to pour into unwilling ears what he had heard from Samuel, who knew that Mr Garstang, the solicitor from London, knocked down young Master about money, he thought, and that he had heard Mr Claud say something about his father kicking him. "Missus wanted to send for you last night, sir, but Master wouldn't have it, and this morning they couldn't make him hear in his room. Poor chap, I expect he's very bad." The man would have gone on talking, but finding his companion silent and thoughtful, he relapsed into a one-sided conversation with the horse he drove, bidding him "come on," and "look alive," and "be steady," till he turned in at the avenue and cantered up to the hall door. Mrs Wilton was there, tearful and trembling. "Oh, do make haste, Mr Leigh," she cried. "How long you have been!" "I came at once, madam; is your son in his room?" "Yes, yes--dead by this time. Pray, come up." He sprang up the stairs in a very unprofessional way, forgetting the necessity for a medical man being perfectly calm and cool, and Wilton met him on the landing. "Oh, here you are. Haven't got the door open yet. Curse the old wood! It's like iron. Maria, go and get all the keys you can find." "Yes, dear, but while the men are doing that hadn't we better try and get poor Claud's door open?" "No, hers first," cried Wilton, and Leigh started. "I understood that it was your son who needed help," he said. "Never mind him for a bit. You must see to my niece first;" and in a few seconds Leigh was in possession of the fact that the maid had been unable to make her mistress hear; that since then they could get no response to constant calling and knocking, and the door had resisted all their efforts to get it open. On reaching the end of the corridor Leigh found the maid, white and trembling, holding her apron pressed hard to her lips, while the footman and two gardeners, after littering the floor with unnecessary tools, were now trying to make a hole with a chisel large enough to admit the point of a saw, so as to cut round the lock. "Wood's like iron, sir," said the gardener, who was operating. "But would it not be easier to put a ladder to the window, and break a pane of glass?" said Leigh, impatiently. "Oh, Lord!" cried Wilton, "who would be surrounded with such a set of fools! Come along. Of course. Here, one of you, go and fetch a ladder." The second gardener hurried off down the back stairs, while his master led the way to the front, leaving Mrs Wilton and the maid tapping at the bedroom door. "Oh, do, do speak, my darling," sobbed Mrs Wilton. "If it's only one word, to let us know you are alive." "Oh, don't, don't pray say that ma'am," sobbed the maid. "My poor dear young mistress! What shall I do--what shall I do?"