Then she understood what had happened to her. She had been thrown on the springy morocco-covered couch in the study, covered over with all the available cushions, hassocks, and table-cloths, and then, when she ceased to struggle, she had been left to herself, with the result that her first movement had landed her on the floor, where she found herself surrounded by the tablecloths and cushions which had been used to stifle her cries. She scrambled to her feet, groped her way to the door, and went through into the hall. Whom should she rouse? Although she felt sure that the thieves would not be discovered, that the affair would end as the theft of the snuff-boxes had done, yet it was necessary for her own sake that she should make known at once the adventure she had passed through. So she went upstairs to the housekeeper’s bedroom, told her what had happened, and asked her to inform the baronet of her suspicions that some one had broken into the gallery. Ten minutes later the whole household was astir. Mrs. Hawkes had roused Sir Robert, who gave directions that the menservants were to be sent into the grounds to look for the supposed burglar, and in the meantime he himself came out of his room, and learned all that Rhoda had to tell him on his way downstairs. On reaching the gallery, and turning up the electric light, the baronet was not long in discovering the nature of the fresh loss he had sustained. The Romney, a beautiful picture of Lady Hamilton, had been cut neatly out of its frame. The sky-light in the roof of the gallery was broken, and all hands, including those of Lady Sarah and Jack Rotherfield, who were among those roused by the commotion, pointed up to this, by which they all supposed that the burglars had made their entrance. Amid the general commotion, however, a shrill girlish voice piped out: “They didn’t get in that way. Somebody broke the glass with that pole.” It was The Terror, Minnie Mallory, who made this announcement, pointing drily as she did so to the long pole, with a hook at the end, which was used to draw backwards and forwards the blind which kept out, when necessary, the strong sunlight. The words caused a singular sensation in the assembled group. They were received at first in dead silence, and then there were whispers and stealthy glances exchanged. Lady Sarah went up to her husband, and slid her hand confidentially through his arm: “Send them away,” she whispered. “I don’t believe it’s a burglar at all. Remember how the snuff-boxes went. Depend upon it, the picture’s gone the same way.” “What way?” faltered Sir Robert, in a voice as low as her own. “Better not ask,” she whispered back. Gradually, as it were melting away, the little crowd broke up, dispersed. There was a horrible sense of mystery and guilt upon everybody. The members of the household almost felt as if they individually had been concerned in the robbery of Sir Robert.