The night was warm and the long windows of the hall stood open into the garden, letting in the scent of heliotrope and wallflowers and the far-off sound of the sea. Clotilde, a little weary with the bustle of unexpected preparations, set down her tray upon the sill and leaned her hot forehead against the cool pane. Outside there was only starlight, but so clear was the night that she could make out the lines of the garden hedges and the narrow, winding walks. How strange, she seemed to see a darker shadow moving toward her among the flower beds, then another, and another! Could it be the servants coming home? In the dining room, Stephen and his guests were leisurely returning the money to the leather bags and discussing as to the safest and quickest method of sending it to Boston, when they were startled by the sudden crash of the window’s swinging back upon its hinges. A tall, dark-clad man climbed over the sill, levelling toward them the long barrel of a pistol. Behind him, three more scrambled up and, similarly armed and similarly threatening, stood in a sinister row against the wall. “Hold up your hands, good masters,” ordered the first one, with an easy insolence that had almost the air of official authority. “You are dead men otherwise, so you may as well obey!” The three guests did as they were told instantly, the doctor sputtering with rage and threatening the robbers with dire punishment. But Stephen’s hands did not move. “Quick, sir,” commanded the robber. “Have you no regard for your life?” “I have,” replied Stephen quietly, “but I have a greater regard for the people’s money that has been entrusted to my care. Were it my own, I admit that I might give it up to avoid bloodshed, but as it is—” There was a burst of flame from the robber’s pistol and a loud report. The ball cut through Stephen’s coat sleeve and grazed his arm so that the warm blood came trickling down into his hand. “Now will you give up the money?” cried the thief as Stephen reeled and caught at the back of the chair. “No!” was his defiant answer. His only weapon was the ebony cane that was always near his hand, but with this upraised, he advanced upon his enemy. The masked robber lifted his pistol again. “Come, men,” he was saying. “Bang,” came a deafening crash from beyond the door. Had a cannon been discharged within the house it could not have sounded louder. The thieves drew back and looked at each other dismayed. “Bang,” came a second explosion more terrific than the first. It shook the walls of the whole dwelling and was followed by the tinkle of breaking glass. “It is the town watch!” cried one of the robbers. Out through the window they plunged, stumbling and jostling and falling over one another in their haste to escape. Doctor Thorndyke sprang forward in pursuit unarmed as he was, the man from Salem was about to follow, but Stephen held up his hand.