"Has he rebelled against established authority?" demanded Mrs. Purcell. "Has he crime upon his soul?" "His worst crime is hard drinking. I'll look after him, Mrs. Purcell. Please give the servants no particulars." Mrs. Purcell expressed a pious hope that the Manor House would be still whole in the morning; but finally agreed that Mr. Mallow had acted with his usual judgment, and was quite right to succour the oppressed. When, after every one had gone to bed, Mallow and Aldean visited Trall, he was still sleeping, so they left him. But early next morning Mallow was in his room. He was awake, and professed himself much easier in his mind. Amid a profusion of thanks for all his kindness, he told Mallow how he had escaped the common fate through Madame having ordered him out of the house. "I don't know how it all happened," he said. "There was a mine laid under the cellar, I know, but I feel sure Madame didn't fire it. I hope they won't think I did it. It was for fear of that I came down here." "You are safe enough here, Trall. Besides, that section, at least, of the Brotherhood is done for." "Oh, but they were not all there. There are others. Two of them have gone after Carlo and Clara. I protested, but Madame would send them, and she turned me out of the place." "Where are Boldini and your niece now?" "They have left Genoa for South America. One of the Brothers followed them. He wired to Madame they had taken ship, but he did not say for what port. But they're as good as dead," moaned Trall; "the Brothers who were sent after them had instructions to kill them." "Oh, let us hope they will escape," said Mallow, soothingly. "By the way, that disguise of yours, Trall. Did you wear it to visit the P. and O. Office before Carson arrived?" "No, Mr. Mallow; I was never in the P. and O. Office in my life." Mallow looked searchingly at the man, but saw by his simple denial, and from his manner, that he was telling the truth. "Do you know any one else who went there?" he asked, shifting his ground. "No, I never heard of any one." "Did Dr. Drabble?" "I am sure I don't know," said Trall, plucking at the clothes. "He never told me, if he did. But Drabble wore all kinds of disguises; sometimes he wore a light wig, at others a black one. He was never twice the same." "I dare say it was he," said Mallow, thoughtfully; "he was the person most interested in Carson's arrival. He is dead, I suppose?" "Blown to pieces, Mr. Mallow. He was in the cellar when I left. Not one of those present escaped alive. They are dead in their sins, Mr. Mallow, and black--black indeed are those sins. If I had not spoken for Clara, if Madame had not--well, I have sins of my own to repent of. God saved me for repentance. I'm sure of that." "Rouge was in the cellar, of course?"