“Why, it seems she made a hole in the floor of the attic where she was held, dropped down into the very room you had quitted, and took advantage of the window you had left open. That other’s a rare wench of yours, Tuke.” “Aye, aye.” “You turn their heads, sir; and damme if your virtues compare with mine. Why, the mad girl, it appears, gave herself to the rogues on the chance of helping you, and was right savage when she found she had been forestalled. Burn me if I can see so much in you! She would ha’ been on your tracks sooner, but that she must stop to collect a bag-full of her mummies and things; and there she was makin’ for the tunnel as cool as a gipsy, when Whimple sighted her.” “Well, what is toward this morning?” “Not a sign. The rascals are well served, believe me, and cuttin’ one another’s throats by now.” “Two are accounted for already--one by their own devilry, and one by Dennis’s knife.” “Would you believe it, Tuke--the man’s as haunted as if stickin’ a mongrel were murder.” “It is to him. He hath saddled himself with a life-long ghost for my sake.” “Folly, sir, folly. He hath not the right trick of sport. Will you rise and come to counsel? If only I could make to ‘Chatters’ for reinforcements, and take the enemy in the rear?” “Ah, if we only could! Must I dress by candle-light?” “Why, ’twould be rash to open the shutters and invite a bullet.” Half-an-hour later, refreshed and re-invigorated, though still conscious of a swimming weakness, the master of “Delsrop” descended to his dining-hall. On his way he passed a little group of his maids--a bevy of frighted and tear-stained faces that appealed to him humorously and pathetically. He stopped a moment. “Take heart, my girls,” said he. “We’ll soon be quit of trouble now I’m come to my own again.” “God bless you, sir! We never thought to see sich doings when we took service here.” “Why, no more did I. And I swear my service is harder than yours.” “That red-faced villain, sir. Jane have seen smoke come out of his mouth.” “Tut! What an unconscionable scoundrel! We must put a snuffer on him.” He smiled and nodded and went on his way. He suffered some small trepidation thereby over the thought of what he was about to face. Miss Royston rose with a little stiff laugh as he entered the room. She was trim and dainty for all her poverty of circumstance. He went straight up to her and bowed low. “What can I offer you,” he said, “but my deep regrets?” “Indeed, sir,” she answered loftily, “’tis our friend’s trouble that hath worked your misfortune. You are recovered, I hope?” “I am almost well.” The Viscount Dunlone, who had been seated over the hearth, and who was in truth the only other present, rose here with a glowering face. His left arm was swathed in linen bandages. “That being so,” he said, “I will ask you, is it not intolerable I should be brought by your invitation to this monstrous pass?”