He had been moving towards the door, which he unfastened and threw open. "I'm here, Louie," he said. "Quick, dear! A message from papa. We are to go to Mr Van Heldre's at once." "Van Heldre's?" faltered Harry, whose legs seemed to give way beneath him. "Yes, dear; a policeman brought the message." "A policeman?" "Something is wrong. No, no, don't turn like that. It is not father, but Mr Van Heldre, so the man said. I think it is a fall." Harry Vine's breath came thick and short. What should he do? Fly at once? No; that meant being taken and brought ignominiously back. "Don't hesitate, dear," said Louise; "pray come quickly." "Yes," said Harry huskily. "Of course, I'll come on. Will you--you go first?" "Harry, what are you thinking, dear? Why do you look so shocked? Indeed I am not deceiving you." "Deceiving me?" "No, dear: I am sure it is not papa who is hurt. There, come along, and see--for Madelaine's sake." She said these last words very softly, almost in a whisper; but the only effect they had upon him was to make him shudder. What should he do--face the danger or go? He must face it; he knew he must. It was his only hope, and already his sister was hurrying him to the door--his sister, perhaps unconsciously to hand him over to the police. "No," he said to himself, with an attempt to be firm, "he could not have seen me; but was it after all Pradelle I struck down?" A chill shot through him. The locket torn from his watch-chain? "Why, Harry dear, you seem quite upset." "Upset--I--yes, it is so sudden. I am a bit--there, I'm all right now." "Poor Madelaine! she must be in sad trouble." Greater than the speaker realised. She was in the dining-room with the elder Vine, and hung for a few moments on Louise's neck to sob forth her troubles when she entered. Then, without a word or look at Harry, she hurried up-stairs. "Why did you not speak to her, Harry?" whispered Louise. He made no reply, but sat listening to his father, his eyes dilated and throat dry. "And--and do they suspect any one?" whispered the young man in a voice he did not know for his own. "No: the police have been away since, and they think they have a clue-- two pedlars, who have been about the place lately." "And Mr Van Heldre--is--is he badly hurt?" "Very badly. It is doubtful whether he can recover." The young man's breath came and went in a strange labouring way as he sat rigidly upon his seat, while his father went on telling him fact after fact that the son knew only too well.