Ravenspur rose and made his way along the corridor to the outer doorway. Here he counted the whole of the domestic staff, carefully passed the drawbridge and then the portcullis was raised. Ravenspur Castle and its inhabitants were cut off from the outer world. Nobody could molest them till morning. And yet the curl of a bitter smile was on Ravenspur's face as he returned to the dining-hall. Even in the face of these precautions two of the garrison had gone down before the unseen hand of the assassin. There was some comfort in the reflection that the outer world was barred off, but it was futile, childish, in vain. The young people, with Mrs. Charles, had risen from the table and had gathered on the pile of skins and cushions in one of the ingle nooks. Gordon Ravenspur was sipping his claret and holding a cigar with a hand that trembled. Hardy man as he was, the shadow lay upon him also; indeed, it lay upon them all. If the black death failed to strike, then madness would come creeping in its track. Thus it was that evening generally found the family all together. There was something soothing in the presence of numbers. They were talking quietly, almost in whispers. Occasionally a laugh would break from Vera, only to be suppressed with a smile of apology. Ravenspur looked fondly into the blue eyes of the dainty little beauty whom they all loved so dearly. "I hope I didn't offend you, grandfather," she said. In that big hall voices sounded strained and loud. Ravenspur smiled. "Nothing you could do would offend me," he said. "It may be possible that a kindly Providence will permit me to hear the old roof ringing with laughter again. It may be, perhaps, that that is reserved for strangers when we are all gone." "Only seven left," Gordon murmured. "Eight, father," Vera suggested. She looked up from the lounge on the floor with the flicker of the wood fire in her violet eyes. "Do you know I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt that Uncle Ralph came home again. He had a great black bundle in his arms, and when the bundle burst open it filled the hall with a gleaming light, and in the center of that light was the clue to the mystery." Ravenspur's face clouded. Nobody but Vera would have dared to allude to his son Ralph in his presence. For over Ralph Ravenspur hung the shadow of disgrace--a disgrace he had tried to shift on to the shoulders of his dead brother Charles, Marion's father. Of that dark business none knew the truth but the head of the family. For twenty years he had never mentioned his erring son's name. "It is to be hoped that Ralph is dead," he said harshly.