"I should think she must be quite mad. It's the woman who forced herself into the house the day before yesterday after you had gone--that's all I know of her. This time she is not alone; she has a man in there with her." "A man! Not--Ballingall?" "No, not Ballingall. At least, I only caught a glimpse of him--but it's not the man who was watching you. From her behaviour the woman must be perfectly insane." "We'll soon make an end of her, insane or not." Graham went to the window. The woman, completely unabashed, had remained right in front of it, an observant spectator of their proceedings. He spoke to her. "Open the door at once!" She repeated the gesture she had used to Madge--raising her voice, at the same time, to a shrill scream. "Go away! go away! This house is mine--mine! I don't want any trespassers here." Graham turned to Madge. "Do you authorise me to gain an entry?" "Certainly. I don't want to spend the night out here." Permission was no sooner given than the thing was done. Grasping the upper sash of the window with both his hands, Graham brought it down with a run, tearing away the hasp from its fastening as if it had been so much thread. It was a capital object-lesson of the utility of such a safeguard against the wiles of a muscular burglar. The upper sash being lowered, in another moment the lower one was raised. Mr. Graham was in the room. The woman was possibly too astonished by the unceremonious nature of his proceedings to attempt any resistance, even had she felt disposed. Graham addressed Miss Brodie through the window. "Will you come this way? or shall I open the door?" "If you wouldn't mind, I'd rather you opened the door." He opened the door. Presently they were in the sitting-room, face to face with the intruders. Graham took them to task--the woman evincing no sign of discomposure. "Who are you, and what is the meaning of your presence on these premises?" "This house is mine--mine! It's all of it mine! And who are you, that you ask such a question--of a lady?" She crossed her hands on her breast with an assumption of dignity which, in a woman of her figure and scarecrow-like appearance, was sufficiently ludicrous. Graham eyed her as if subjecting her to a mental appraisement. Then he turned to the man. "And pray, sir, what explanation have you to offer of the felony you are committing?" This man was a little, undergrown fellow, with sharp hatchet-shaped features, and bent and shrunken figure. He had on an old grey suit of clothes, which was three or four sizes too large for him, the trousers being turned up in a thick roll over the top of an oft-patched pair of side-spring boots. There was about him none of the assurance which marked the woman--the air of bravado which he attempted to wear fitted him as ill as his garments.