expostulations, and blows, mounted to them from the foot of the hill. Cyril nodded, and Usk threw the stone. After two or three attempts which fell short, Cyril caught it, and began to draw up the rope. In the meantime, William and the gatekeeper were startled by the appearance of Jakob, who dashed up hatless and dishevelled to entreat that Dr Gregorescu would come down the hill at once. The lunatic from the Bluebird had suddenly become violent, and refused to mount the hill. He was fighting with such strength that Mr Hicks and Mr Bradwell feared they could not restrain him much longer. It would take at least six men to carry him up the hill, they thought. The doctor came out promptly, making final arrangements hastily with Helene as he handed her into the buggy, then hurried down the hill with three or four of his Dardanian servants, while William started the horses on the steep descent with cautious deliberation. At the turn in the track they paused, William almost as much excited as his mistress, until the tones of Usk’s voice as he asked the porter whether his wife had started without waiting for him reached their ears. Almost immediately there was the sound of hasty footsteps, and Cyril ran down the road. William had handed the reins to Helene, and was out of the carriage immediately, lifting the apron on the farther side, and in a moment Cyril was crouching in the vacant space and hidden under the apron. “William, put up the hood, please,” said Helene, in a quick hard voice, and the servant, alarmed by her tone, turned to see Dr Gregorescu hurrying breathlessly round the turn in front of them. He might have no suspicion at present, but he could not but be surprised to see the carriage stopping and William standing in the road. Helene’s presence of mind saved the situation, and William obeyed at once. “Surely you must find this place very windy?” said Helene, as the doctor passed them. “I feel quite cold. Will you kindly tell my husband that I have driven on, if you meet him? But don’t let me keep you. William, you had better lead the horses down the hill.” “A thousand pardons!” ejaculated Dr Gregorescu. “I cannot stay, madame, for the poor fellow from the ship has escaped. We must organise a search at once. Pray excuse me.” A gracious bow from Helene, and she drove on, her face so white and her hands so powerless that William, at the horses’ heads, feared the reins would be torn from her grasp. At the next turning he stopped. “Excuse me, my lady, but if his lordship would change hats and coats with me, he might sit up aside of you and drive, and no one the wiser, without they looked close under the ’ood, if you’ll forgive me offerin’ advice.” “Excellent advice too, William,” came in Cyril’s voice, muffled by the apron, “but what will you do?”