The man, after hesitating for a moment, moved slowly towards the window, which Miss Vint noticed, for the first time, was wide open; and got one leg over the sill; looking back at her, he shook a fist, by way of caution to her to be quiet; lifted the other leg over, and slowly disappeared—apparently down a ladder—from her view. Then it was that Miss Vint, no longer restrained by the fear of his presence, opened her mouth, and emitted a long and piercing shriek—a shriek so tremendous, that it brought Arthur Barnshaw tumbling out of his den, half asleep, and stumbling blindly in the darkness; and brought another man, who had been crouching behind a hedge, leaping over it, and hurrying to the scene. Having accomplished these useful purposes, Miss Vint backed towards her bed, and fainted away, with propriety and comfort. The second man, who had leapt the hedge, was no other than Philip Chater; and, as he hurried to the scene, he caught a momentary glimpse of the little drama that was going forward. In the first place, he saw a man hurriedly and unceremoniously coming down a ladder from a window; saw him thrust something into the hands of another man, who stood near at hand, and make off in another direction, clearing the low hedge at a bound, and vanishing in the darkness. While this was happening, the door of the house had been wrenched open from inside, and a young man had dashed out, and grappled with a taller figure, standing also near the ladder—a taller figure which, after a short struggle, threw the man who grappled with him, and made off also, in the same direction as the first. All this passed within a few seconds, and before Philip had had time to do anything. But he saw, at this moment, that the man into whose hands that something had been thrust, by the man who had come down the ladder, was making off also—not with the strength of the others, but as though he were older and weaker. This man Philip Chater immediately seized; when, to his consternation, the man in his grip—(and who was no other than our friend Dr. Cripps)—after one horrified glance into his face, fell upon his knees, babbling and stuttering; and then, casting from him what he held, broke away, and went careering like a madman across the garden. Philip, for his part, was so astonished, that he made no effort to follow the little man; but, seeing something gleaming, in the faint light of the stars, on the ground at his feet, stooped, and picked it up. Having dropped on one knee in doing this, he was absolutely powerless to defend himself, when a man sprang upon him, caught him by the throat, and forced him backwards to the ground. “I’ve got one of you, at least,” cried a voice which sounded curiously familiar. “It’s no use struggling; you won’t get away, I can assure you.” Then, as he caught sight of the face of his prisoner, he dropped his hands from Philip’s throat, and struggled to his feet, and stood staring down at him. It was Arthur Barnshaw.