With tigerish eyes she followed his every motion. He aimed at her with his fist weighted with a purse of gold, but she ducked. He missed his aim, and as he staggered, she struck the stool from under him, and he came reeling over and nearly lost his feet. She at once kicked the stool into the fire. But he had not fallen. He was brought up by the clock which at the impact went over with a crash. He sprang to the hearth, took the stool and swung it over his head in menace. Possibly he was afraid to completely silence her lest in the event of discovery he might be called to account. He replaced the stool where he required it, and said, 'I dare you to touch me again! If you do, you shall be reduced to quiet so as to trouble me no more! Beware, Jane, you she-devil!' When he had mounted the stool, she rose to her feet and made her way to the door. He continued to clear the drawer of the money that was in it, but he observed her out of the corner of his eye, and he soon discerned her purpose. She had retreated backwards till she had reached the door, and now facing him, with her bound hands she was endeavouring to turn the key. 'No!' he shouted. 'I see your game.' He dashed at her, spun her about, and dealt her such a blow with his fist that she fell on the floor. 'You will remain still now,' said he; and he resumed his work. Jane was partially stunned. For a moment only she was unable to rally her senses, but she was incapable of offering further resistance. She saw what was going on, lying with gagged mouth and labouring lungs. She could not breathe fast enough, and the air screamed through her nostrils. The blood mounted and purpled her face, and swelled her veins to bursting. At last everything had been removed, and the carpet-bag was filled with the contents of the drawer. Dench thrust back the row of crooks and swaying garments to the place normally occupied by them, and again chuckled at the ingenuity of the contrivance that had twice baffled him. Then he leisurely descended from the stool, and halted on his way to the door to look at Jane Marley as she lay bound at his feet. The laugh was still on his lips. Her head in falling had struck the overturned clock, or been cut by the broken glass of the face, and it was bleeding. Her profuse black hair, tinged with grey, was dishevelled, and lay in a tangle about and under her head; the face was turned on one side, and the eyes flared at him like coals in a blast furnace. He set his teeth. A malignant expression came over his face. 'Eh, Jane! Better to have gone shares as I once proposed, than lose all and come to this!' He prepared with lifted foot to kick her in the face with his boatman's shod boot, when a shiver ran through the house――a shiver like that which passes over a man when, so it is asserted, an enemy treads on his predestined grave. 'Time to be off, by ――――,' said he, and darted to the door. 'Jane――I leave you to your fate.'