Striding down the stairs, his fire-laden glance met the ghastly smile of the painted figure. With an active bound, he was on the window ledge, and the clenched fist which had ached to scatter some of the hapless Percy's features fell heavily on the scowling face in the window. The glass, which proved exceedingly thin and brittle, shivered into countless fragments within and without, and the inner sheet of transparent paper was so dry and tense that it shriveled instantly when exposed to the air. Indeed, Armathwaite, despite his rage, was aware of a peculiar sensation. It seemed as though he had struck at something impalpable as air. His hand was not cut. It appeared to have touched nothing. He thrust straight and hard, and the only evidence of his destroying zeal was a quantity of powdered glass on the landing, some curled wisps of paper adhering to the leaden frame, and an oval of blue sky shining through the visor. As he leaped to the floor again, Mrs. Jackson reached the center of the hall. She screeched frantically, thinking that the Black Prince himself was springing from the window. But she was a stout-hearted old woman, and quickly recovered her wits when she saw what Armathwaite had done. "They've long wanted a man i' this house!" she cried, in a voice that cracked with excitement, "and it's glad I am te see they've gotten yan at last! Eh, sir, ye med me jump! Ye did an' all! But ye'll never rue t' day when ye punched a hole in t' feace o' that image of Owd Nick!" By this time Smith and his helpers, aware that something unusual was going on inside the house, were gathered at the front door, which had remained wide open since the early morning. "Listen, all of you!" said Armathwaite, addressing the two women and five men as though they were an army and he their emperor. "I am master here, and I expect you to obey my orders. I am going out now, and I may be away some hours, possibly all day. You, Smith, must put a padlock and chain on the gate and refuse to open it for anyone except Dr. Scaife and a nurse. You, Mrs. Jackson, must keep the doors locked while I am gone, and let no one enter, excepting, as I have told Smith, Dr. Scaife and the nurse who will accompany him. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." "And you, Smith?" "Yes, sir." "Betty, put some thin slices of bread and meat between two small plates, and tie them in a napkin. Fill a bottle with milk. Quick! I have no time to lose." He turned to the gaping boy who had brought the telegrams from Bellerby. "Did you ride here on your own bicycle?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "Is it a strong machine?" "Yes, sir." "Lend it to me for the day, and I'll give you a sovereign." "Right you are, sir!" came the hearty response. "Is there anything to go back to the post office?" "Nothing. Raise the saddle of your bicycle, and see that the tires are in good order. Here's your money."