"But surely you raised an alarm and caught the fellows? They couldn’t get off the roof and escape so quickly as that," exclaimed Alec, half incredulous. Again the Duke shook his head. "I raised no alarm, and they did get away, after pulling up the brazier and leaving no trace," he replied. "There are reasons, Alec, why I could not have appeared against them had they been caught—the same reasons why I can’t confide more fully in you." "You must have done something very bad—murder at least," said Forsyth, gravely. "On the contrary, I have done nothing at all," Beaumanoir retorted. "It is for not doing something that I am being persecuted." "Well, what about the third attempt?" "It happened this afternoon, as I was on my way to your uncle’s. A carriage knocked me down and very nearly crumpled me. But that may have been an accident." "Did you take stock of the driver and the people in the carriage?" Beaumanoir was obliged to admit that he had not. In his disheveled state he had been only anxious to be cleaned down and have his wrist attended to, and it was not till after the carriage had driven rapidly away that he had connected the incident with the other attempts. Forsyth said nothing for the moment, but fetched some cigarettes from the mantelpiece; and it was not until they had smoked in silence for awhile that he blurted out suddenly: "This can’t be allowed to go on. It makes everything impossible. Have you any reason to think that the people who are pursuing you will do so indefinitely—until they have settled you?" Beaumanoir considered before replying, as though the point had not occurred to him before. "No," he said, with a nervous laugh. "Things have crowded so in the last few hours that I haven’t thought much about any sort of future. I cannot be sure, but I believe if I could pull through till the end of next week—say, for another fortnight—that the danger would pass." Forsyth sat and ruminated, blowing blue smoke-rings; and then, after two or three minutes of silence, a faint noise sounded in the room. The Duke, whose nerves were tuned to concert pitch, heard it first, and turned a pair of wide-open eyes on the door. Forsyth’s gaze followed, and they both saw the handle of the door move. The door itself, being locked and double bolted, of course refused to yield to the gentle pressure from without. Forsyth laid his finger to his lips for silence, and motioned Beaumanoir to retire into the bedroom, which communicated by means of folding doors with the sitting-room. When the Duke had noiselessly disappeared, Forsyth stole to the outer door, and having first quietly drawn the bolts he quickly unlocked it and flung it open, to be confronted by an under-sized little man, who shrank back from his threatening attitude. "Who the deuce are you—and what do you want, disturbing me at this time of night?" Forsyth demanded fiercely. "These are Mr. Crofton’s chambers, ain’t they, sir?" bleated the intruder.