They crept cautiously towards it, and saw no sign of Raphael Craig. At length, avoiding the zigzag path that led down into the pit, they reached the point where the chalk had been cut precipitously away. Still moving with all possible discretion, Richard lay on his stomach and looked over. Twenty-five feet below he saw Raphael Craig standing, apparently in an attitude of triumph, over the prone form of Micky, otherwise Nolan, the detective. A lantern held by Craig showed plainly the drawn and stiffened features of the man from Scotland Yard. [Illustration: 0170] Before Richard could prevent her, Teresa had also looked over. ‘God!’ she cried softly. ‘Is my father a----’ She stopped. The old man glanced mildly upwards. Richard and Teresa with one accord ran along the edge of the pit, and then down the zigzag path till they stood facing Raphael Craig, the prone body of the detective between them. ‘What is this?’ questioned the old man coldly, pushing back the gray hairs from his forehead. ‘Spying again?’ He looked intently at Richard. He seemed to ignore the silent form on the ground. ‘Father,’ cried Teresa, ‘if you have killed him, fly. Take the motor-car and get away as far as you can and as fast as you can. Mr. Redgrave and I----’ ‘Killed him!’ Raphael Craig exclaimed. ‘Why should I kill him? I found him lying here--here where I came to seek him. He must have fallen over this miniature precipice.’ ‘He isn’t dead,’ said Teresa eagerly; she had knelt beside the detective. ‘I did not suppose that he was. But if he had been it would have been only a just punishment.’ ‘Had we not better carry him to the house, sir?’ Richard suggested quietly. ‘As you wish,’ said Raphael. ‘It appears that you have taken charge of our affairs.’ ‘Mr. Redgrave is here at my urgent request, father,’ said Teresa. ‘You!’ Raphael gazed at her hard. ‘You! Shall I curse you as I cursed your sister?’ Nevertheless, he helped Richard to carry the body of the detective up the path and into the field--a task of considerable difficulty. When they reached the electric car they put the lifeless organism into the back part of it. ‘Take him,’ said Mr. Craig to Richard succinctly--‘take him off.’ ‘And you?’ said Richard. ‘I will follow.’ Richard and Teresa got into the electric car and moved off down the field. They spoke not a word. Arrived at the house, the detective was taken upstairs and put into a bed by the three women. The lamps had been relighted. The little man had regained consciousness, but he was too feeble to give any utterance to his thoughts. He pointed weakly to his head, whereon his nurses found a lump, but no other sign of injury. They surmised that he was suffering from concussion of the brain, how caused they could only guess. He drank a little brandy-and-water, and lay extended on the bed as though unwilling almost to put himself to the exertion of breathing. The noise of the Décauville sounded outside. Teresa sprang to the window.