So ineffably grand were the man's look and gesture--so full of sonorous terror the swell of his matchless all-conquering voice, that Losely, in his midmost rage, stood awed and spellbound. His breast heaved, his eye fell, his frame collapsed, even his very tongue seemed to cleave to the parched roof of his mouth. Whether the effect so suddenly produced might have continued, or whether the startled miscreant might not have lashed himself into renewed wrath and inexpiable crime, passes out of conjecture. At that instant simultaneously were heard hurried footsteps in the corridor without, violent blows on the door, and voices exclaiming, "Open, open!--Darrell, Darrell!"--while the bell at the portals of the old house rang fast and shrill. "Ho--is it so?" growled Losely, recovering himself at those unwelcome sounds. "But do not think that I will be caught thus, like a rat in a trap. No--I will--" "Hist!" interrupted Darrell, dropping the brand, and advancing quickly on the ruffian--" Hist!--let no one know that my daughter's husband came here with a felon's purpose. Sit down--down I say; it is for my house's honour that you should be safe." And suddenly placing both hands on Losely's broad shoulder, he forced him into a seat. During these few hurried words, the strokes at the door and the shouts without had been continued, and the door shook on its yielding hinges. "The key--the key!" whispered Darrell. But the bravo was stupefied by the suddenness with which his rage had been cowed, his design baffled, his position changed from the man dictating laws and threatening life, to the man protected by his intended victim. And he was so slow in even comprehending the meaning of Darrell's order, that Darrell had scarcely snatched the keys less from his hand than from the pouch to which he at last mechanically pointed, when the door was burst open, and Lionel Haughton, Alban Morley, and the Colonel's servant were in the room. Not one of them, at the first glance, perceived the inmates of the chamber, who were at the right of their entrance, by the angle of the wall and in shadow. But out came Darrell's calm voice: "Alban! Lionel!--welcome always; but what brings you hither at such an hour, with such clamour? Armed too!" The three men stood petrified. There sate, peaceably enough, a large dark form, its hands on its knees, its head bent down, so that the features were not, distinguishable; and over the chair in which this bending figure was thus confusedly gathered up leant Guy Darrell, with quiet ease--no trace of fear nor of past danger in his face, which, though very pale, was serene, with a slight smile on the firm lips. "Well," muttered Alban Morley, slowly lowering his pistol--"well, I am surprised!--yes, for the first time in twenty years, I and surprised!"