Father Don dodged behind a chair, while Foxy, who was right in the centre of the room, ran for the window, and, bursting past Jerry, raced down the lawn with Hill after him, the dagger upraised. Round and round they went, while Mrs. Hill stood on the terrace, looking on with a deadly smile. Had Hill been struck down, she would have rejoiced. Don twitched the arm of Jerry. "Let's cut," he said; "I've got the swag, Foxy can look after himself," and these two gentlemen left the house hurriedly. Mrs. Hill saw them disappear without anxiety. The blow she had received seemed to have benumbed her faculties. To think that she had been so deceived and tricked. With a stony face she watched Foxy flying round the lawn, with the insane man--for Hill appeared to be mad--after him. Foxy, in deadly terror of his life, seeing his pals disappear, tore the document from his pocket, threw it down, and ran panting towards the wall. While he scaled it, Hill picked up the paper and tore it, with teeth and hands, into a thousand shreds. The three scoundrels had disappeared, and Mrs. Hill looked down coldly on her frantic husband. Hill danced up to the terrace, and held out his hands. "Happiness--happiness, I am safe." "Coward," she said in a terrible voice. Her husband looked at her, and then began to laugh weirdly. Then with a cry, he dropped. "I hope he is dead," said Mrs. Hill, looking down on him with scorn. CHAPTER XXII BUTSEY'S STORY There was no excitement in Wargrove next day over the burglars who had entered "The Arabian Nights," for the simple reason that the village knew nothing about the matter. But a rumour was current, that Mr. Hill had gone out of his mind. No one was astonished, as he had always been regarded as queer. Now, it appeared, he was stark, staring mad, and no longer the harmless eccentric the village had known for so long. And the rumour was true. "It is terrible to think of the punishment which has befallen him, Allen," said Mrs. Hill the next morning; "but can we call it undeserved?" "I suppose not," answered her son gloomily. "I wish I had remained at home last night, mother." "Things would have been worse, had you remained. There would have been a fight." "I would have saved Eva's diamonds, at all events." "Let the diamonds go, Hill," chimed in Parkins, who formed a third in the conversation, "they were come by dishonestly, and would have brought no luck. You come out to Bolivia, and fix up the mine. Then you can make your own coin, and marry Miss Strode." "But you forget, Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill, "I am now rich, and Allen need not go to America." "No, mother," said Allen hastily, "I'll go. You will do much more good with my father's money than I can. Besides----" he hesitated, and looked at Horace. The American interpreted the look.