To hear that a dead man has "come back" again and is then in the house you are about to enter, would astonish most of us. David Skate stared at Sally, as if he thought she had been making free with the cider barrel. At that moment, Frank appeared at the door, greeting David with a smile of welcome. The sun shone on his face, making it look pale, and David verily and truly believed he saw Frank's ghost. With a shout and a cry, and cheeks all turned to a sickly tremor, he backed behind the pump and behind Sally. Sally, all on the broad grin, enjoyed it. "Why, sir, it be the master hisself. There ain't nothing to be skeered at." "David, don't you know me?" called out Frank heartily; and came forth with outstretched hands. But David did not get his cheeks right again for a good quarter-of-an-hour. And he was in a maze of wonder all day. A warrant had been issued for the apprehension of Stephen Radcliffe of the Torr, and old Jones started off to the Torr to execute it. As if Stephen was likely to be found there! Ringing the bell, knocking at the door, shaking the handle, stood old Jones; the whole string of us behind burning to help him. It was not answered, and old Jones went at it again. You might have heard the noise over at Church Dykely. Presently the door was drawn slowly back by Stephen Radcliffe's daughter--the curate's wife. She was trembling all over and looking fit to drop. Lizzy had come over from Birmingham and learned what had taken place. Naturally it scared her. She had always been the best of the bunch; and she had, of course, not known the true secret of the cries. "I want to see Mr. Radcliffe, if you please, ma'am," began old Jones, putting his foot inside, so that the door should not be closed again. "My father is not here," she answered, shaking and shivering. "Not here!" repeated old Jones, surreptitiously stealing one hand round to feel the handcuffs. "There's no one in the house but myself," she said. "When I got here, an hour or two ago, I found the place deserted." "I should like to see that for myself, ma'am," returned incredulous old Jones. "You can," she answered, drawing back a little. For she saw how futile it would be to attempt to keep him out. Old Jones and some more went in to the search. Not a living creature was there but herself and the dog. Stephen Radcliffe had never been back since he started for Alcester in the morning. In fact, Stephen was not to be found anywhere, near or distant. Mrs. Stephen was not to be found. Eunice Gibbon was not to be found. They had all made themselves scarce. The women had no doubt contrived to convey the news to Stephen while he was at Alcester, and he must have lost no time in turning his back on Warwickshire.