But the insane passion which he cherished for a woman who would have nothing to do with him led him deeper and deeper into the mire of sin, and in spite of his prayers and cries for help, the Unseen would do nothing to extricate him from the morass of difficulties into which he had plunged himself. At times Silas even doubted if God existed, so futile were his attempts to gain comfort and guidance. Much as he loved Bella, he desired to win clear of the unwilling influence which she exercised on his nature, and vainly prayed for light whereby to know the necessary means to get rid of the tormenting demon. But no answer came, and he relapsed into despair, wondering what his congregation would say if any member knew the unmastered temptations of his inner life. The struggle made him weak and ill and thin and nervous, and but that deep in his heart he knew vaguely that God was watching over him, and would aid at the proper time, he would have taken his own miserable life. With his head buried in his hands, Silas thought thus, with many groans and with many bitter tears, the shedding of which made his eyes burn. Occupied with his misery, he did not see a dark, massive form glide towards the open window, nor did he hear a sound, for Durgo stepped as light-footed as a cat. The sill of the window was no great distance from the ground, and the big negro flung his leg over the sill and into the room. But in getting hastily through, he was so large and the window so small, that he made a sliding noise as the window slipped still further up. Silas started to his feet, but only to see Durgo completely in the room, facing him with a grim smile. "I have come to speak with you, sir," said the negro. Silas turned white, being haunted by a fear known only to himself. But he read in the eyes of this black burglar--or, rather, he guessed by some wonderful intuition, that his fear and the cause of his fear were known to this man. Durgo saw the look in the preacher's eyes, and read his thoughts in his turn. The negro was not boasting when he hinted that he possessed certain psychic power. "Yes," he said, keeping his burning gaze directly on the miserable white man; "you stole papers from Captain Huxham's room, and I----" "I did not," interrupted Pence wildly, and making a clutch at his breast coat-pocket. "How dare you--" "The papers are in your pocket," interrupted Durgo, advancing, as he noted the unconscious action and guessed its significance. "Give me those papers." "I have no papers. I will alarm the house----" "Do so, and you shall be arrested." "What do you mean?" "You saw my master, Edwin Lister, enter the Manor-house, and thought that he was his son. Cyril Lister told me as much. From what you said to Miss Huxham about her not being the daughter of the sailor, I believe that you followed my master into the house. What took place?" "Nothing! nothing! I swear that I did not----"