“‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’” quoted John Legg. “Come and draw a chair and sit by me, Julia, my dear. Your presence alone is very calming, even when you do not speak, though your words are always good and comforting and your voice sweet and pleasant.” Julia Legg seated herself beside her husband and took his hand in hers. Lamia, having exhausted herself by her fury, fell down again upon the sofa and buried her face in the cushions. And now in the silence that ensued John Legg became conscious of a growing disturbance in the drawing-room. This might have been going on some time unnoticed by the three persons in the library, who were absorbed in their own trouble; but now the disturbance on the opposite side of the hall was too evident to be ignored. The sound of angry voices, hurrying steps and struggling forms reached their ears. Lamia started up from her sofa and sat with her head bent forward, staring in the direction of the noise and listening intently, with a look of demoniacal satisfaction and expectancy on her face. Julia cowered and clung for protection to the husband whom she herself had just been comforting. He patted her head to reassure her, and then said: “There, let me go, dear, and see what is the matter in there,” gently trying to release himself from her clasp. “Oh, no, no!” cried Julia, clinging closer than before. “Pray, don’t leave us, John! Don’t go into that room! Something dreadful is going on there.” At that moment a piercing shriek rang through the air, followed by a heavy fall that shook the house. “I cannot stand this! Julia, I cannot stand it! I tell you I must run and prevent mischief if I can!” he urged earnestly, trying to free himself from her strong arms, but finding that he could not do so without using force and violence that must hurt her. The confusion arose to uproar. A loud crash shivered on the floor, and a peal of fiendish laughter resounded through the building, and a woman’s agonized cry went up to heaven for help! Lamia, sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, listening intently, now broke into a low, demoniacal chuckle. “Julia!” exclaimed John Legg, breathing hard through excitement. “I hate to hurt you, but I must prevent murder.” And he wrenched her arms from around his neck, threw her back in the armchair and rushed from the library to the drawing-room. CHAPTER XXVI A TERRIBLE SCENE We must now explain the cause of the parlor storm. It came on in this way: All the guests of Haymore Hall—with the exception of the Legg family in the library—were still assembled in the drawing-room. The Campbell party, father, mother and daughter, still occupied the obscure sofa against the rear wall of the back division. Judy and Will Walling were seated near, talking with them. Dandy, Mike and Longman were standing on the rug before the fire, exchanging confidences on the affairs of the evening.