Jane Marley stood for a moment uncertain what had happened, and what should be done. Had his ankle turned, and would he pluck himself up again, once more to rush at her? Or had he been felled by an apoplectic stroke? Should she turn, whilst there was time, and fly? Or should she tarry and assist the fallen man? After a brief moment of hesitation, seeing that he made no movement to rise, uttered no sound, she stepped forward, bent over him, and endeavoured to remove the pistol from his grip. But the fingers were tight locked and she could not disengage them. She turned his head and saw by the face that he was unconscious. Then she laboured to unloose his neckcloth and his shirt-collar; she forced him over on his back, and was by this means able to dash water into his face. As he lay thus, his hand gradually relaxed, and the pistol fell from it. Jane immediately secured it, and replaced it on the crooks above the mantelshelf whence he had taken it. Was the man dead or in a fit? The wardrobe doors were wide open, and the range of old clothes still projecting into and depending in mid-air in the room. Jane had sufficient shrewdness to see that it was advisable to replace all before she summoned assistance. Mounting the stool she looked into the drawer and found that it contained purses, small canvas bags, wooden and metal boxes, and at once satisfied herself that they were filled with money, gold mostly, some silver. She caught her breath, then breathed heavily, and her heart beat fast. She did not immediately close the drawer, but remained staring at the wealth that was amassed there before her――the accumulations of a man, saving, unscrupulous, daring, and so cunning as never to be caught――the spoils of a long, adventurous life. Looking about her she saw the captain to whom all this gold belonged lying on the lime-ash floor, his face grey, his eyes open, but expressionless. They saw nothing, the brain knew nothing of what she was doing. She thrust the drawer back into its place. It slid on runners let into each side. It moved smoothly, noiselessly, and when in place was so ingeniously contrived that no one could have guessed at its existence. All the hanging garments retreated with it, and showed as though suspended in the most ordinary way from a rail attached to the back of the closet. So firmly did the drawer fit that when Jane Marley pulled at the pegs she failed to make it oscillate to such a degree as to indicate that it was movable. She descended from the stool and shut the wardrobe doors over the range of female dresses.