Monty ignored the question. “I was afraid everything might be all wrong,” he cried. “This is the first time I’ve been able to swallow comfortably for an hour. I thought my heart was permanently dislocated.” “What’s been happening downstairs?” Denby inquired. “Nothing,” Monty told him, “and it’s the limit to have nothing happen.” “I thought Harrington was organizing a search party.” “Oh, we searched,” Monty admitted. “I was nominally in charge, but Lambart was the directing genius. He was an officer’s orderly in his youth and is some tactician, believe me.” Monty pointed to his muddied knees. “He stretched clothes-lines over the paths to catch the tramps, and I was the first victim. We looked everywhere, all of us, Lambart, the under-butler, two chauffeurs and I, and we didn’t even flush a cat.” “That’s odd,” his listener commented. “They’ll be back. They’re not frightened away by you fellows with lanterns. They’ll be back.” “I bet they will,” Monty grumbled, “and with the militia.” “Don’t lose your nerve now, old man,” Denby counselled. “I wish I could,” Monty cried. “This certainly is getting on it. It’s a lesson not to get discontented with my lot. I’ve got that creepy feeling all the time that they’re coming closer to us.” “But that’s the real sport of it,” Denby pointed out. “Sport be damned,” he said crossly. “Your ideas about foxes and mine don’t coincide. I don’t think he likes being hunted. And at that he’s got something on us; he knows who’s chasing him.” “So shall we soon,” he was reminded. “Yes,” Monty grumbled, “when we’re shot full of holes.” “Don’t be afraid of getting shot at,” Denby said smiling. “You amateurs have no idea how few shots hit the mark even at short range. I’ve been shot at three times and I’ve not a scar to show.” “Job must be your favorite author,” Monty commented sourly. “I hate the noise. I’m scared to death; I thought I wanted excitement, but life on a farm for me hereafter.” “But, my dear boy,” Denby said more seriously, “you are not in this. They’re after me and this.” He held up the necklace. “You’re a spectator merely.” “Rot!” Monty cried. “I’m what they call an accessory and if you think I’m going to clear out now, all I can say is you ought to know me better than that. I want to be doing something; it’s the talking that gets on my nerves. They’ll be here soon, you may bet on that. They’re going to search this room.” “Somebody’s done that already,” he was told. “Who?” Monty cried anxiously. “That girl?” “I think not. Her room is in the other wing, as I found out indirectly. To come here she’d have to run an awful risk. If she comes it will be later, when everyone is asleep.” “Then who could it have been?” Monty demanded. He turned suddenly on his heel. There was someone even now listening at the door. Then there was a faint, discreet knock. He dropped into the nearest chair and looked at the other man with a blanched face. “Pinched!” he cried.