They took the butler’s candles and ran up, discovering with the light Mr. Faulks holding his face together. “Hallo, hallo! Dirty work at the crossroads, what? Why---- Sally! Good God!” On the floor of the passage Sally Winslow lay like a child asleep, one frail bare arm flung up above her head. “Look at that. Fortune,” Tom Beach cried. “Damned scoundrels!” “Hold the candle,” said Reggie Fortune; but as he knelt beside her the electric light came on again. “Great Jimmy!” Captain Cosdon exclaimed. “Who did that?” “Don’t play the fool, Bunny,” Tom Beach growled. “What have they done to her, Fortune?” Reggie’s plump, capable hands were moving upon the girl delicately. “Knocked her out,” he said, and stared down at her, and rubbed his chin. “Who? What? How?” Cosdon cried. “Hallo, Faulks, what’s your trouble? Who hit you?” “How on earth should I know,” Faulks mumbled, still feeling his face as he peered at the girl. “When Miss Winslow screamed, I ran up. It was dark, of course. Some men caught hold of me. I struck out and they set on me. I was knocked down. I wish you would look at my eye, Fortune.” Reggie was looking at Sally, whose face had begun to twitch. “Your eye will be a merry colour to-morrow,” Cosdon assured him. “But who hit Sally?” “It was the fellows who set upon me, I suppose, of course; they were attacking her when I rescued her.” “Stout fellow,” said Cosdon. “How many were there?” “Quite a number. Quite. How can I possibly tell? It was dark. Quite a number.” Sally tried to sneeze and failed, opened her eyes and murmured, “The light, the light.” She saw the men about her and began to laugh hysterically. “Good God, the scoundrels may be in the house still,” cried Tom Beach. “Come on, Cosdon.” “I should say so,” said Captain Cosdon, but he lingered over Sally. “All right now?” he asked anxiously. “Oh, Bunny,” she choked in her laughter. “Yes, yes, I’m all right. Oh, Mr. Fortune, what is it? Oh, poor Mr. Faulks, what has happened?” “Just so,” said Reggie. He picked her up and walked off with her to her bedroom. “Oh, you are strong,” she said, not coquetting, but in honest surprise, like a child. Reggie laughed. “There’s nothing of you,” and he laid her down on her bed. “Well, what about it?” “I feel all muzzy.” “That’ll pass off,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Do you know what hit you?” “No. Isn’t it horrid? It was all dark, you know. There’s no end of a bruise,” she felt behind her ear and made a face. “I know, I know,” Reggie murmured sympathetically. “And how did it all begin?” “Why, I came up to bed, Mr. Fortune--heavens, there may be a man in here now!” she raised herself. “Yes, we’d better clear that up,” said Reggie, and looked under the bed and opened the wardrobe and thrust into her dresses and turned back to her. “No luck, Miss Winslow.” “Oh, thank goodness,” she sank down again. “You see, I came up and put the light on, of course, and there was a man at the window there. Then I screamed.”