"I call you to witness," said their chief to Miss Stanley—and he spoke in the calmest manner, as if this were quite an every-day occurrence—"that I have been deforced in the execution of my duty. This man will have to answer for it at Dingwall." But his assistants were not so imperturbable. Smarting under the jeers of the crowd, they proceeded to cast about for some implement with which to effect an entrance; and presently they found an axe. With this one of them set to work; and crash! crash! went the weight of iron on to the trembling door. The wood began to yield. Splinters showed—then a narrow breach was made—the hole grew wider—and just as it became evident that the demolition of the door was but a matter of a few minutes, a heavier stroke than usual snapped the shaft of the axe in twain, the iron head falling inside the cottage. By this time the attitude of the crowd had again altered—from derision to fierce resentment; there were groans renewed again and again; missiles flew freely. And then again, and quite suddenly, an apparently trivial incident entirely changed the aspect of affairs. At that ragged opening that had been made in the door there appeared two small black circles, close together; and these were pushed outward a few inches. The concurrents fell back—and the crowd was silent; well they perceived what this was; those two small circles were the muzzle of a gun; at any moment, a violent death—a shattered corpse—might be the next feature of the scene. "What does that madman mean to do!" Mary exclaimed, in a paralysis of terror—for it appeared to her that she was responsible for all that was happening or might happen. "Mary," said Käthchen, under her breath—and she was all trembling with excitement, "you must come away at once—now—while they are watching the gun. Perhaps they won’t interfere with us—we may get down to the waggonette—we may have to run for it, too, if those women should turn on us." "I cannot go and leave these poor men here," Mary said, in her desperation. "They will be murdered. That man in there is a madman—a downright madman——" Käthchen lowered her voice still further. "There is Mr. Ross coming—and oh! I wish he would be quick!" Indeed it was no other than Donald Ross, who, immediately after leaving Lochgarra House, had struck off across the hills, hoping by a short cut to reach Cruagan not long after Miss Stanley’s arrival. And now that he appeared, all eyes were turned towards him; there was no further groaning, or hooting, or hurling of missiles. He seemed to take in the situation at a glance. He asked a question of the sheriff’s officer.