Then the tumult within him died away. No man can say what that little note did for Amos Royson that night. He would go to her, to this generous girl, and ask her aid. But Annie! What if that forced sleep should deepen into death! Who could extricate her? How would Mary arrange that? She would get Morgan. He could not refuse her anything. He could not falter when the family name and family honor were at stake. He could not let his wife--his wife! A cry burst from the lips of the desperate man. His wife! Yes, he would go to him, but not for help. Amos Royson might die or escape--but the triumph of this man should be short-lived. The mare began running again; he drew rein with a violence that brought the animal's front feet high in air and almost threw her to the ground. A new idea had been born; he almost shouted over it. He tore off the woman's garb, dropped it in the buggy, sprang out and let the animal go. In an instant the vehicle was out of sight in the dark woods, and Royson was running the other way. For the idea born in his mind was this: "Of all the places in the world for me the safest is Ilexhurst--if--" He pressed his hand to his breast. The bottle was still safe! And Annie! The horse returning would lead to her release. Amos Royson had a general knowledge of the situation at Ilexhurst. At 12 o'clock he entered through the glass-room and made his way to the body of the house. He was familiar with the lower floor. The upper he could guess at. He must first find the occupied room, and so, taking off his shoes, he noiselessly ascended the stairway. He passed first into the boy's room and tried the door to that known as the mother's, but it was locked. He listened there long and intently, but heard no sound except the thumping of his own heart. Then he crossed the hall and there, upon a bed in the front room, dimly visible in the starlight, was the man he sought.