“You are a policeman, I know! What do you want with Mr. Rayner?” “Never you mind, my dear; we won’t hurt you. Just go and say you want to speak to him.” “No, I won’t!” I cried--not loudly, for my voice seemed to grow suddenly weak. “Whatever you think he has done, or whatever he has done, I will never help to harm Mr. Rayner!” The man shrugged his shoulders, walked to the window, and whistled softly. Laurence put me into a chair, whispering “That’s a brave girl!”--but with such an anxious, stern face. And the other man came back into the room, followed by a policeman with his staff ready in his hand. “We must break open the door,” said the elder man. I started from my seat. I wanted to rush to the drawing-room door and warn Mr. Rayner; but Laurence prevented me, whispering gravely-- “My darling, you must leave it to us now.” Every word, every movement had been so quiet that the music still went on while they opened the schoolroom door and crossed the hall. I stood watching them breathlessly. The three men, Laurence, the most stalwart, foremost, placed themselves against the drawing-room door, and by one mighty push burst it open. I ran forward to the doorway just in time to see Gordon, Mr. Carruthers’s servant, fling down the violin and rush to the opposite window, the shutters of which were unfastened. But I heard the crash of glass, and at the same instant two policemen dashed through the shattered French window, seized and handcuffed him. Then he stood between them, white and immovable, without a struggle. “It’s no go. We know you’re one of the gang,” said the middle-aged man. “Game’s up. We’ve got your leader.” “What leader?” asked Gordon calmly. “James Woodfall.” “It’s a lie!” snapped out the immovable Gordon. “Jim Woodfall wouldn’t let himself be nabbed by such as you.” “Why not? We’ve got you.” The man did not answer. “All his fault for getting soft on a girl! Wish I had her here!” Gordon muttered presently. He caught sight of me at the doorway and shot at me a sort of steely look that made me shudder. But I did not connect myself with his words. I was too bewildered to think or to understand clearly what was going on until I saw him, handcuffed as he was, quietly draw a tiny revolver from his pocket and, without raising it, point it at Laurence. With a scream I rushed forward into the room and flung myself in front of Laurence, and I heard a report and felt something touch my arm--I did not know what at first--and Laurence sprang forward with almost a yell. But he was encumbered with my form; and, before he could put me down, Gordon had wrenched himself away from his captors, and, snarling, “I meant to have done for her!” had dashed through the open window out into the fog and darkness.