It flashed through Gerard’s mind as he looked at him that he must have been through similar scenes before, that he knew it was best to take things quietly, and to lie in wait for a chance to escape. Meanwhile Denver was blustering, assuring his guests that there was no need to be uneasy, that an ugly trick was being played upon them, and that, if the ladies would retire, he and the other men would find out who were the authors of this fresh outrage, and would soon set matters right. Of this advice, however, no notice was taken. There were several ladies present, but they were all what Denver himself irreverently spoke of as “old stagers,” women of rank or social position established enough not to be daunted by the prospect of another “row,” and old enough to know that the quieter they were the better were their own chances of getting out of the ugly affair with dignity. All, moreover, were curious as to the issue of this business; and though one lady affected to be on the verge of hysterics, as nobody was at leisure to take any notice of her, she speedily recovered sufficiently to take the same interest as the rest in what was going on. For events now began to move fast. Someone said “Hush!” and then all became aware that there were voices and footsteps to be heard outside the house. One man went behind the curtains to look out, and came back with a serious expression of face, to confirm Mrs. Van Santen’s sensational statement. The house _was_ surrounded, and they were all virtually in custody. Not one of the people assembled, with the exception of old Mrs. Van Santen, made an attempt to leave the room. She crossed the room with amazing rapidity for one of her years, but finding that someone had locked the door, she turned back again, and stood with a fierce look on her face, but without speaking, with her back to the door, watching for the crisis. Then there was a rattle and a rush in the next room, and a female voice, which they believed to be Cora’s, uttered a slight scream. Then two policemen in uniform came into the room, and the foremost came up to the table and looked round. Before he could speak, Cecil Jones, from the opposite side of the table, addressed him-- “There are five of them,” he said, “two men and three women. Three out of the five are in this room, the other two are, I believe, in those two rooms adjoining,” and he pointed to the other drawing-rooms. “These are the two men.” He pointedly rapidly to Denver and Harry Van Santen, and then, turning, indicated Mrs. Van Santen, as he added: “And this is the head of them all.” While he was speaking three or four more men had come quietly into the room, and by the time he had ended, both Denver and Harry Van Santen found themselves practically prisoners, each having a constable in uniform on either side of him.