"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the girl; "it's Mark--it's Mark! Oh, oh, oh!" she kept on in a peculiar sob. But she tottered to the window and undid the brass latch with trembling hands, when Mark pressed the glass door open, sprang in, closed the leaf, fastened it, and, flinging one arm round the sobbing girl, clapped a hand over her mouth. "Hold your row, you silly fool! Couldn't you see it was me?" "Ye-ye-yes, Mark. Oh, I'm so glad you've come." "Seems like it--squealing everybody else out of bed to come and ketch me." "Oh, oh, oh, Mark dear!" sobbed the girl. "Take care," and she clung to him. "Why, of course I will," whispered the groom. "My word! I didn't know you could come hysterics like that," and as he spoke he tried to comfort the trembling girl, succeeding to some extent, while another singular thing took place in that certainly unhaunted room. For the big ugly pair of boots began, not to walk according to their nature when set in motion, but to glide in a singular way in the moonlight, following their tightened strings, passing round the head of the quilted couch and into the conservatory, but without a sound. "Oh, oh, Mark!" sobbed the girl, with a shudder. "What, beginning again? What a little silly it is!" "But come away." "Well, I'm coming away. Come on." "No, no; not that way. Oh!" "Be quiet, or you'll be waking someone," whispered Mark. "I can't help it," sobbed Jane. "It wasn't you that frightened me, Mark dear, it was the burglars." "The what? Where?" "Oh, I'd dropped asleep, Mark, and the lamp burnt out, and the clock woke me up, and then I saw it. Oh, horrid!" "Be quiet, I tell you. What did you see?" "That great big pair of boots in the moonlight there." "Where?" cried Mark, doubtingly. "Down there by the blue couch." "Stuff! There ain't no boots--old boots nor any other boots." "Ain't there, Mark? Oh, there was, there was." "Bosh! You've been dreaming." "Have I?" said the girl, after a long stare about the moonlit carpet. "I thought I saw them." Then, with a quick change: "Wherever have you been?" "Oh, only to the races with the guv'nor." "But you ain't been racing till this time o' night?" cried the girl, suspiciously. "Well, not quite. Some on 'em--bookies and jocks--got up a bit o' dinner." "I don't believe it. What for?" "All along o' settling up, and that sort of thing." "Settling up? What's that--paying up?" "Yes, my gal." "I know what that means. Now then, out with it." "Wait till the morning," said Mark, grinning. "How much was it? No keeping it back. If you do, it's all off, and I'll never speak to you again. Now then, let this be a lesson to you. I will know. How much have you lost?" "Guess." "I won't guess. It's too serious a matter." "So it is, my lass; so it is, and I'll make a clean breast of it, Jenny." "Yes, you'd better." "I've won!" he cried, catching the girl in his arms. "What! I don't believe it."