The whistle was repeated; and now Margaret heard the swift rustle of silk brushing against her door, then fluttering from baluster to baluster, as Rita sped down the stairs. A door opening softly, and now three figures stood under the chestnut-tree. Words were whispered, greetings exchanged; then the three figures stole away into the blackness. Margaret felt helpless for a moment. Locked in,--her cousin asleep here, exhausted if not ill, and needing absolute quiet,--and going on downstairs--what? She must know! She must call John Strong, and warn him that her fears were realised, and that unwelcome visitors were already at the doors of Fernley, perhaps already within. But how was it possible? She ran to the window and looked down. Full twenty feet! To jump was impossible; even Peggy could not have done it. Peggy! yes! but Peggy could get out. Only the other night she had had a climbing frenzy, and had slid down the gutter-spout, half for the joy of it, half to tease Margaret, who was in terror till she reached the ground, and then in greater terror when the young gymnast came "shinning" up again, shouting and giggling. The spout! Margaret stood looking at it now. For a moment her courage deserted her, and she wrung her hands and began to sob under her breath; but this would not do! Her nerves knew the resolute shake of the shoulders, and shrank into obedience. She set her lips firmly, and there crept into her face a certain "dour" look that may have come from her Scottish ancestors. "If a thing has to be done, why, it must be done!" she said to herself. "Anyhow, there will be solid ground at the bottom, not a quaking bog." Could she do it? She had never climbed in her life. She had been wont to grow dizzy on any great height; and here she reflected that she had inwardly laughed at Rita, a few hours before, for growing dizzy at the sight of blood. "But I have to learn so many lessons!" said poor Margaret, and with that she laid her hand on the spout. A moment longer she waited, but no longer in hesitation,--she was simply asking for strength from One who had never refused it yet; then she clasped the pipe with both hands, swung herself out as she had seen Peggy do, and slid down, down, down. Her hands were torn and bleeding, but she reached the ground in safety, falling several feet, but escaping with a few bruises which she did not feel at the time. She ran round the house toward the east wing, where the gardener's room was, but stopped half-way. The door of the ground-floor room, her uncle's private room, was open; a light was burning inside. Possibly John Strong was himself on the watch, and she need go no farther. Margaret turned hastily, entered the room,--and was confronted by two young gentlemen in Spanish cloaks and broad-brimmed hats.