"Have you not observed," said Miss Stivergill, "that I lock my door on the inside? Besides, I have other little appliances which I shall explain to you in the morning, for I scorn to be dependent on a man-servant for protection. There's a revolver in that drawer beside you"--Miss Lillycrop shrank from the drawer in question--"but I would only use it in the last extremity, for I am not fond of taking human life. Indeed, I would decline to do so even to save my own, but I should have no objection to maim. Injuries about the legs or feet might do burglars spiritual as well as physical good in the long-run, besides being beneficial to society.--Now, my dear, good-night." Miss Stivergill extinguished the candle as violently as she would have maimed a burglar, and poor Miss Lillycrop's heart leapt as she was suddenly plunged into total darkness--for she was naturally timid, and could not help it. For some time both ladies lay perfectly still; the hostess enjoying that placid period which precedes slumber; the guest quaking with fear caused by the thoughts that the recent conversation had raised. Presently Miss Lillycrop raised herself on one elbow, and glared in the direction of her friend's bed so awfully that her eyes all but shone in the dark. "Did you hear THAT, dear?" she asked, in a low whisper. "Of course I did," replied Miss Stivergill aloud. "Hush! listen." They listened and heard "that" again. There could be no doubt about it--a curious scratching sound at the dining-room window immediately below theirs. "Rats," said Miss Stivergill in a low voice. "Oh! I _do_ hope so," whispered Miss Lillycrop. She entertained an inexpressible loathing of rats, but compared with burglars they were as bosom friends whom she would have welcomed with a glad shudder. In a few minutes the scratching ceased and a bolt or spring snapped. The wildest of rats never made a sound like that! Miss Lillycrop sat bolt up in her bed, transfixed with horror, and could dimly see her friend spring from her couch and dart across the room like a ghostly phantom. "Lilly, if you scream," said Miss Stivergill, in a voice so low and stern that it caused her blood to curdle, "I'll do something awful to you.--Get up!" The command was peremptory. Miss Lillycrop obeyed. "Here, catch hold of the bell-handle--so. Your other hand--there--keep the tongue fast in it, and don't ring till I give the word." Miss Lillycrop was perfect in her docility. A large tin tea-tray hung at the side of Miss Stivergill's bed. Beside it was a round ball with a handle to it. Miss Lillycrop had wondered what these were there for. She soon found out. Miss Stivergill put the dressing-table a little to one side, and placed a ewer of water on it. At that moment the dining-room window was heard to open slowly but distinctly. Miss Stivergill threw up the bedroom window. The marrow in Miss Lillycrop's spine froze.