He pulled the trigger—a loud report followed—the room was filled with smoke, and then all was still. A circumstance, however, had occurred, as a consequence of the concussion of air produced by the discharge of the pistol, which neither of the young men had for the moment calculated upon, and that was the putting out of the only light they there had. [Illustration: Charles fires the pistol at the window.] In spite of this circumstance, Charles, the moment he had discharged the pistol, dropped it and sprung forward to the window. But here he was perplexed, for he could not find the old fashioned, intricate fastening which held it shut, and he had to call to Henry,— “Henry! For God’s sake open the window for me, Henry! The fastening of the window is known to you, but not to me. Open it for me.” Thus called upon, Henry sprung forward, and by this time the report of the pistol had effectually alarmed the whole household. The flashing of lights from the corridor came into the room, and in another minute, just as Henry succeeded in getting the window wide open, and Charles Holland had made his way on to the balcony, both George Bannerworth and Mr. Marchdale entered the chamber, eager to know what had occurred. To their eager questions Henry replied,— “Ask me not now;” and then calling to Charles, he said,—“Remain where you are, Charles, while I run down to the garden immediately beneath the balcony.” “Yes—yes,” said Charles. Henry made prodigious haste, and was in the garden immediately below the bay window in a wonderfully short space of time. He spoke to Charles, saying,— “Will you now descend? I can see nothing here; but we will both make a search.” George and Mr. Marchdale were both now in the balcony, and they would have descended likewise, but Henry said,— “Do not all leave the house. God only knows, now, situated as we are, what might happen.” “I will remain, then,” said George. “I have been sitting up to-night as the guard, and, therefore, may as well continue to do so.” Marchdale and Charles Holland clambered over the balcony, and easily, from its insignificant height, dropped into the garden. The night was beautiful, and profoundly still. There was not a breath of air sufficient to stir a leaf on a tree, and the very flame of the candle which Charles had left burning in the balcony burnt clearly and steadily, being perfectly unruffled by any wind. It cast a sufficient light close to the window to make everything very plainly visible, and it was evident at a glance that no object was there, although had that figure, which Charles shot at, and no doubt hit, been flesh and blood, it must have dropped immediately below. As they looked up for a moment after a cursory examination of the ground, Charles exclaimed,— “Look at the window! As the light is now situated, you can see the hole made in one of the panes of glass by the passage of the bullet from my pistol.”