"And their blood-feud against the poor chap will surely cease, now that there is no crime, past or contemplated, for which he can denounce them," Forsyth comforted himself as he stepped from the door at the head of the stone stairs and hastened along the dimly lit corridor, limping no longer. His destination was the smoking-room, where he guessed that the General would be eagerly awaiting news. CHAPTER XX—_In the Muniment Room_ While Alec Forsyth was engaged in showing Ziegler out of the crypt, the Duke of Beaumanoir, in happy ignorance of the perilous effort his friend was making for him, sat in the dark muniment room, still as a cat, with his eyes on the door. He had drawn one of the oak chairs close to the safe in which Senator Sherman’s genuine bonds reposed. He had established himself on guard, in case, trickery having failed, violent methods should be adopted at the last moment to obtain the huge plunder. He thought it improbable that, with General Sadgrove in the house and Azimoolah somewhere loose around it, any of the gang would break in unseen, still less that they would reach the muniment room. He sincerely hoped that the vigilance of those trained watch-dogs would prevail, for, though he was prepared to atone for his folly by defending the safe at the cost of his life, if need be, he did not see how that could be done without opening up the scandal he had gone through so much to avoid. He had bought the safe, had met the Senator at Liverpool, and now, unknown to anyone, was keeping his lonely vigil in the firm determination that, at all hazards, the bonds should reach the Bank of England in safety; but there was a dread in his heart lest the tell-tale emergency he was providing against should arise. For here it becomes necessary to say that the letter sent to Ziegler in London five days before, and purporting to convey the Duke’s submission and request for instructions, which were called for by Alec Forsyth, was not written by the Duke at all, or even with his cognizance. It had been the joint production of General Sadgrove and Forsyth, with an eye to immediate immunity for the Duke from further murderous attacks, and to the enactment of some such dangerous comedy as had just been played in the crypt. Though when that deceptive missive was penned, its authors expected, in varying degrees, as will presently be seen, tragedy rather than comedy. And he who by right of youth and friendship necessarily took the greater risk was the one who, not being fully informed by his uncle, had most cause for apprehension from the masquerade.