Corkins obeyed. Trembling to the corner, he sank on his knees, and turned his face away from the door and turned toward the wall, there was such a persuasive eloquence in Arthur's look. Then Arthur, still clutching the iron bar, drew near the head of the bed, and gazed upon Alice. Stretching forth her arms, and opening and closing her little hands; flinging back her head, her eyes fixed upon the same point of the ceiling, no matter how she writhed--babbling with foaming lips about her father and her home,--it was one of the saddest sights that ever man beheld. Arthur could not stand it. He turned his face away, and there was a choking sensation in his throat, and a painful heaving of his chest. His eyeballs were hot and tearless.--He would have given his life to shed a single tear. But that moment of intolerable anguish was interrupted by the sound of footsteps resounding from the lower part of the mansion. Madam Resimer was returning to the room of Alice. Arthur at once shrank into the corner where Corkins knelt, and touched the creature with his foot by way of warning. Then placing himself against the wall in such a manner that he could not be seen until the Madam entered the room, he awaited her return. Her footsteps are on the stairs, and presently they are heard in the passage. Arthur, standing bolt upright against the wall, with the trembling Corkins at his feet, heard the rustling of her dress, as she came brushing along, with her heavy stride. Then he heard her voice--she was speaking to some one who accompanied her. "There are two," he muttered, and bent his head to listen. He could distinguish her words: "What a foolish fancy!" this was the voice of the Madam, "to think that any one could gain admittance to my house against my will. Why, my dear, the idea makes me laugh." "Yes, but he's such a desperate ruffian," answered a second voice. It was the voice of Rev. Herman Barnhurst. CHAPTER III. HERMAN, ARTHUR, ALICE. "Oh! my God, I thank thee," muttered Arthur, and clutched the iron bar and crouched closer to the wall. And ere a moment passed, the Madam entered the room, followed by Barnhurst. She held the light, and he advanced toward the bed. "It looks rather bad," cried Barnhurst, as he caught sight of the face of Alice. "Why, where has Corkins gone?" cried the Madam, and turning abruptly she sought for Corkins, and uttered a shriek. At the same instant Barnhurst raised his eyes from the face of Alice, and fell back against the wall, as though a bullet had pierced his temple. They had at the same instant discovered Dermoyne, who, motionless as stone, stood against the wall, beside the door, his arms folded, and his head sunk on his breast. Thus, with his head drooped on his breast, he raised his eyes and silently surveyed them both, and with the same glance.