"Nell, Nell!" he panted. "Is it you?" She remained quite motionless under his words, his touch, and he raised her head and tried to see her face. The lamp he had dropped some moments before. Suddenly a great shudder ran through her. She sighed, and opened her eyes. "Drake!" she murmured; "Drake! Is he----" He thought she referred to the man. "Never mind him," he said eagerly. "Are you hurt? Tell me?" She put her hand to her head, and struggled to her feet, swaying to and fro as if only half conscious, then her hands went out to him, and she uttered a cry of terror and anxiety. "He--he shot you!" she gasped. "No, no!" he responded quickly. "There is no harm done, if the brute has not hurt you." She shook her head and leaned against the tree, trembling and panting. "I was in the garden. I--heard you and the man running, and--and--I--ran across the path----" "In time to save my life," he said gravely. "But I'd rather have died than you should come to harm." As he spoke, he heard the noise of a struggle behind him. He had absolutely ceased to care what became of the man whom he had been pursuing so relentlessly for a few minutes before; but the noise, the hoarse cries, which now broke upon them had recalled him to a sense of the situation. "They are struggling at the gate--I must leave you," he said hurriedly. And he ran down the path. As he approached the gate, he saw Falconer and the burglar struggling together. Falconer was losing ground every moment, and as Drake was nearly upon them, Ted got his opponent under him; but Falconer still clung to him, and Ted could not get free from him. As he shot a glance at Drake he ground his teeth. "Let me go, you fool!" he hissed. "Let me----" He got one arm free, the glimmer of steel flashed in the dim light as he struck downward, and Falconer with a sharp groan loosed his hold. Ted was clear of him in an instant and sprang for the gate; but as he opened it Drake was upon him. Ted was spent with his struggle with Falconer; he had dropped his revolver; Drake had seized the arm which held the knife--seized it in a grip like that of a vise. "Parson! Quick!" cried Ted. The dogcart drove up to the gate, and the Parson was about to spring to the aid of his mate, when another figure came running up. It was Dick. "Why, what on earth's the matter?" he cried. At the sound of his voice, the Parson, counting his foes with a quick eye, leaped into the cart and drove away at a gallop. Ted cursed at the sound of the retreating cart and struck out wildly, but Drake had pinned him against the gate. "Knock that knife out of his hand!" he said sharply, and Dick did so. In another moment the burglar was on his back in the road with Drake's knee on his chest.