He had just passed the threshold, casting the light before him into the chamber, when Sir John's hand was clapped upon his shoulder, and the candlestick snatched from his hand. "Stand back, Jem, and guard the door. I am her father." The old officer promptly obeyed, and the door was swung to upon him, as others were being opened along the passage, and excited enquiries began to be heard on every hand. For Sir John, in his one quick glance, as the light flashed into the room, had seen that which caused his prompt action. The door leading into Glynne's little studio was wide open, and the current of soft, moist night air which struck his cheek told that the conservatory and its windows must be open too. All this came to him in a flash as, after swinging to the door he had forced, Sir John ran to where, dishevelled, and with her face bleeding and distorted by the savage manner in which her cries for help had been stopped, lay Glynne by the bedside. She was insensible now, though a faint groan escaped her as he tenderly raised her from the carpet, and laid her upon the bed, a pang of combined rage and horror shooting through him as he felt one arm drop in a strangely unnatural way, which told that the bone had snapped. One glance round, as he battled with his agony, showed how terrible a struggle had taken place; chairs were overturned, a little table, with its load of feminine knick-knacks, lay upon its side, and on every hand there were traces of the strife. Sir John, who was trembling violently, grasped all this as he hurried back to the door, to find that the whole house had now been alarmed, and people were gathering fast. "Find Morris, Jem," said Sir John, in a hoarse voice. "Quick! send for Oldroyd." "Yes," said the major, with military promptitude; "but, one word-- Glynne?" Sir John made an impatient gesture, and his brother ran down the corridor at once, the frightened women giving way at his approach, while their host looked sharply round at the scared faces of those present. "Ah, Mason," he cried, "go in to your mistress." "Sir John, what can I do?" cried a piteous voice. "Dearest Glynne, pray, pray let me help." He turned sharply upon the speaker to see Marjorie, with her beautiful hair lightly looped up, but resting upon her long pale blue _peignoir_; and as the wild, troubled eyes met his, Sir John softened a little towards her. "Thank you," he said hastily. "It is no place for you, my child. Yes: go to her. You are a woman, and your gentle face should be at her side." Marjorie darted into the room after Mason, and Sir John barred the door against further entrance. "Here, Miss Emlin," he whispered, "secure the door from within. No one enters till the doctor comes." Then, gathering presence of mind, he hurriedly responded to the enquiries being made, and in a few minutes the passage was once more clear. The major returned then, and his eyes looked searchingly into his brother's.