"I remember falling asleep in the easy chair," she said, slowly, "and after that everything seems like a horrid dream. Those men's fearful faces, and you--oh, how fierce you looked! But it all seems very indistinct." Then Marian came in, and she turned to her smiling. "Miss Arbuthnot, I'm afraid you'll think this a very unceremonious morning call. You didn't know I was a sleep-walker, did you?" Marian put down the decanter she was carrying with a little cry of relief. "Oh, dear, I'm so glad to see you all right again. What an awful adventure you've had!" Maud smiled placidly. She was her old self again, stately and composed. "It might have been a great deal worse but for your brother," she acknowledged; "I wonder if they've found out at the Court. They'll be getting a little anxious if they have." "Unless I'm very much mistaken they've found out," I answered. "Listen." I went out and threw open the hall door. Clearly enough we could hear the alarm bell at the Court clanging out with shrill, quick strokes, and the whole of the park seemed dotted with men carrying lanterns, looking like will-o'-the-wisps, and making the soft night air echo with their hoarse shouts. Two figures were rapidly approaching the cottage, and I hailed them. "Have you seen anything of Miss Devereux?" called out Groves, the head butler. "She's out in the park somewhere a-walking in her sleep." "She is here," I answered, and then I went in and told Maud that they had come for her. Marian left us to find a warmer cloak and thicker shoes, and for a moment we were together. She turned to me at once with a sweet, sad smile on her lips, and a look of regret shining out of the azure depths of her dim eyes. "Mr. Arbuthnot, I had quite forgotten, in all this excitement, what happened in the picture gallery. We are cousins, are we not?" I shook my head. "It is not a relationship which I shall claim," I answered, slowly. "If I should see you again before I go, Miss Devereux, it will be as Mr. Arbuthnot." Her eyes were speaking to me--speaking words which her lips could not utter, but I avoided them. Eager voices were hurrying through the garden, and Maud held out her hand with a hurried gesture. "At any rate, you will let me thank you for your timely aid this evening. But for you I don't know what might not have happened." I took her hand and raised it to my lips. Then I let it drop, and moved towards the door. "I think I ought to thank you rather," I answered, with a pretence at a laugh, "for giving me the alarm. If those fellows had got into the house and taken me by surprise, things might have been worse for me, at any rate." I opened the door and admitted Groves and several of the other servants. Francis Devereux was there, too, but he stood on the pathway outside, without offering to enter, neither did I invite him. Maud went out to him at once, and then I explained to the gaping little crowd what had happened.