"I am sorry to have to break the awful news to you, Mr Raife, but a most remarkable and terrible affair occurred here, early this morning. From what I am able to gather, your father, who--as you know--sleeps over the library, was awakened about three o'clock by an unusual noise, and, listening, came to the conclusion that a slow, sawing process was in progress in the library--that some one was below." "Burglars!" ejaculated Raife. "Your father took his revolver and the little electric flash-lamp which he always has in his room, and, preferring to investigate before ringing and alarming the household, crept downstairs and noiselessly opened the library door. Inside, he saw a small light moving. In an instant, a man who had already opened the safe, drew a revolver and fired point blank at your father." "Shot my father!" gasped Raife, staring at her. "Yes. Unfortunately the bullet struck Sir Henry. He fell, but while on the ground, and before the burglar could escape, he fired and shot him dead. We were all alarmed by the shots--and for the rest, well, you had better ask Edgson. He will tell you. I must go back to your poor mother." "But my father?" "Alas! he is dead," was the thin-faced woman's hushed response. "Dead!" gasped Raife, staggered. "Then the fellow murdered him!" Miss Holt nodded in the affirmative. At that moment old Edgson entered with a message. The doctor had returned to see her ladyship. Raife barred the old servant's passage, saying: "Miss Holt has told me, Edgson. Explain at once what had happened when you were all alarmed." "Well, Master Raife, I rushed down, sir," replied the old fellow, white-faced and agitated. "Burton, the footman, got down first, and when I rushed into the library I found the poor master lying on the carpet doubled up, with blood all over his pyjama-jacket. He recognised me, sir, and declared, in a low, weak voice, that the thief had shot him. At first I was so scared that I couldn't act or think. But, on switching on the lights, I saw the body of a stranger--an elderly man, wearing thin indiarubber gloves--lying near the French window." "Then my father was still conscious?" "Quite. I sent Burton to the telephone to ring up Doctor Grant, in Tunbridge Wells, while I did all I could to restore the poor master. He was then quite sensible. With Burton's aid I managed to get him on to the couch in the bedroom, and then he spoke several disjointed sentences while we waited for the doctor's arrival. He asked for you, sir, and told me to give you a message." "A message, Edgson! What message did he leave for me?" asked the son, eagerly. "His words were these, sir: `Tell Master Raife that the blackguard deliberately shot me! Tell him--to be careful--to be wary of the trap. I--I hesitated to tell the boy the truth, but now, Edgson, alas! it is too late!'" "The truth!" ejaculated young Remington. "What did he mean, Edgson? What did he mean about being careful of the trap?"