He had raised his voice, and was shouting so loud that neither of them heard a ring at the front door. The servant opened it, and the next moment Seth Preene walked into the room. He closed the door and faced Heckett defiantly. ‘You’ve come then?’ he said. ‘Yes. I told you I would.’ ‘You fool!’ answered Preene; ‘you’ve only fallen into a trap. We’re tracked, every one of us. Hark!’ At that moment there came a loud rap at the door. Marston turned ghastly white, and looked for some means of escape. Heckett drew a revolver from his pocket and turned like a beast at bay. ‘Tell the girl not to open the door!’ cried Preene; and Marston went to the top of the stairs and shouted down to the terrified girl to stay where she was. The knocking was repeated louder and louder. Heckett gave a glance at the hall window. It was high, and looked on to the garden. ‘I’m d.-d if I’m going to be taken like a rat in a hole,’ he shouted; and he leapt out into the darkness. There was a cry, a fierce oath, and then the sound of a shot, and footsteps hurrying across the garden. Seth Preene ran to the window. Marston, pale as death, followed him. ‘What shall we do?’ he whispered; ‘the place is surrounded.’ ‘Bosh!’ said Preene, ‘it’s all right; but I’m afraid the poor devil outside’s been hit.’ He leant out and called, ‘Dickson! Dickson!’ A faint voice answered him. ‘Help! help! I’m hit! He’s shot me!’ ‘What, in Heaven’s name, does this mean?’ gasped Marston, grasping Preene’s arm. ‘What does it mean? Why, that I’ve earned my thousand pounds, and that one of my men’s been shot by that scoundrel Heckett.’ ‘One of _your_ men?’ ‘Yes. One back and one front did the trick. You didn’t want to bring a dozen.’ ‘Then it’s all a——’ ‘Exactly; that’s just what it is. I knew Heckett watched me here last night, and I didn’t tell you, because I saw you were nervous already. I formed my scheme on that, and played my cards so as to force him up here to-night. It was the best place for a sham arrest I could think of. But bring a light and some water, and show us the way into the garden. I don’t want the poor devil outside to bleed to death.’ Marston led the way below like a man in a dream. He could hardly realize that he was free of Heckett, and that the terrible scene he had just gone through was mere pretence. He had endured the agony of discovery—he had passed in those few minutes through the supremest torture. Now he could foresee what awaited him if ever he should be run to earth in stern reality. The man outside was only slightly wounded, and was able to go with the one who had been stationed in front to the hospital. It was a flesh wound, and nothing serious.