The Captain spoke to himself rather than to the servant, and in a particularly emphatic voice--a testimony to his vexation. Then he strode onwards with increased speed, little knowing that he had spoken within the startled hearing of the man whom he was seeking, and who was so near him, as he stood where the paths met, that he could have touched him by stretching out his arm,--touched him and his cowering frightened companion. They kept a breathless silence until the Captain and Banks were quite out of hearing. Then Sir Charles said: "What is to be done? Did you hear what Bligh said, Laura? Some one has been sent from Fishbourne to tell me that Mr. Stanfield is dead, and they are searching for me everywhere. What a cursed accident! There is not a chance of concealing your absence. My darling, my life, what is to be done?" She was very pale and trembling, and the words came hard and hoarse, as she replied, "I know not. If we must brave it out we must; but there is a chance yet. Do you stay here, and meet Bligh as he comes back; you can be strolling along the cross path. Have you a cigar? No; you are in dinner-dress, of course. Stay; you have an overcoat on; search the pockets. Yes, yes; what luck! Here's a cigar-case, and your light-box hangs to your chain,--I'll never call it vulgar again,--light a cigar at once, and contrive to show the light when you hear them. I will go to the house. You left the side window open, did you not?" "Yes, yes." His agitation was increasing; hers was subsiding. "If I can get into the house unseen, all is right. I can pass through my own rooms into Hammond's. Send there for me if all is safe; the servants think I am there." She turned away to leave him; but he caught her in his arms, and said in a tone of agony, "Laura! Laura! if I have exposed you to danger--if--" "Hush!" she said, disengaging herself; "you have not exposed me to danger any more than I have exposed myself; but don't talk of this as a hopeless scrape until we know that there is no way out of it." She was out of sight in an instant. Mademoiselle Marcelline sat at the foot of Mr. Hammond's bed without the least impatience. She did not fidget, she did not look at the clock, she did not doze. The time passed apparently to her perfect satisfaction. The invalid slept on very peacefully, and the whole scene wore an eminently comfortable aspect. At length her acute ears discerned a light footfall at the end of the corridor, and then she heard the handle of Mrs. Hammond's dressing-room door gently turned--in vain. Then the footstep came on, and another door-handle was turned, equally in vain. Mademoiselle Marcelline smiled. "It would have been so convenient for madame to have hung her cloak up and smoothed her hair before monsieur should see her, after madame's promenade in the clear of the moon," thought Mademoiselle Marcelline. "What a pity that those tiresome doors should unhappily be locked! What a sorrowful accident!"