The curtains were drawn. In the dim light he saw a man kneeling over a woman prone on the carpet, gripping her throat with both hands, and swearing abominably. “Hell! You won’t shut your mouth, won’t you? You won’t hand over those jewels, won’t you? I’ll show you, curse you!” Ralph flung himself upon him. He loosened his grip on the woman’s throat and rolled over. Ralph’s head banged against the fireplace with a violence that dazed him for a moment. That was unfortunate; and in addition this murderous ruffian was heavier than he, powerfully built, with muscles of steel. It looked as if the slender and youthful Ralph had no chance whatever against him. But there was a sudden groan and the big man rolled over and lay inert, while Ralph rose lightly to his feet. He said: “A pretty stroke, wasn’t it, old boy? I got it from the posthumous instructions of a gentleman named Theophrastus Lupin--from a chapter which deals with Japanese methods. It transports you to a better world for a minute or two and renders you as harmless as a lamb.” Without the loss of a moment he took the curtain cords and bound together the wrists of his opponent. He had moved the curtains and was working in a fair light. He turned the man over to see his face. A sharp cry of amazement burst from his lips; and he exclaimed: “Leonard!... Leonard, begad!” He had never had a really good view of Josephine’s coachman. He had always seen him crouched on the box of the carriage, with his head between his shoulders, and so disguising his figure that Ralph believed him to be almost a hunchback and certainly a weakling. But there was no mistaking that bony face ending in that gray beard. It was beyond all doubting Leonard, Josephine’s factotum and right hand man. He bound his legs together, just to make sure; and then on the carpet beside him he saw a whistle. He picked it up and was just about to stick it back in Leonard’s pocket when an idea came to him. He went to the window and peeped round the edge of the curtain. On the other side of the street, about twenty yards down it, stood the old carriage. On the box sat a young man in livery. But inside the carriage there was surely another confederate. Ralph was sure of it; and now nothing in the world would have prevented him from carrying the matter through to the bitter end. He turned his attention to Bridget, who was moaning faintly, picked her up, and laid her on the bed. The marks of the ruffian’s fingers were very red on her throat; but he had been in time to prevent the worst. She was only suffering from shock and terror. She half-opened her eyes. He poured some water from the carafe into the tooth-glass, raised her, and held it to her lips. She swallowed a little, with difficulty. It seemed to relieve her; and she began to cry.