"It's near ten o'clock," glancing at the gold watch which lay on the table before her, "and no word of Barnhurst, not even a hint of Dirk or Slung! And at ten, that villain who stole the book will come back,--that is, unless Dirk and Slung have taken care of him! I never was in such a fever in all my life! Corkins, what _is_ to be done? And your patient,--how is she?" "As for the patient up-stairs," Corkins began, but the words died away on his lips. The sound of a bell rang clearly, although gloomily throughout the mansion. "Go to the front door,--quick!"--in her impatience the Madam bounded from her chair. "See who's there. Open the door, but don't undo the chain; and don't,--do you hear?--don't let anybody in until you hear from me! Quick, I say!" "But it isn't the front door bell," hesitated Corkins. Again the sound of the bell was heard. "It's the bell of the secret passage," ejaculated Madam, changing color,--"the passage which leads to a back street, and of the existence of which, only four persons in the world know anything. There it goes again! who can it be?" The Madam was evidently very much perplexed. Corkins, who had risen from his perch, stood as though rooted to the floor; and the bell pealed loud and louder, in dismal echoes throughout the mansion. "Who can it be?" again asked the Madam, while a thousand vague suspicions floated through her brain. "Who can it be?" echoed Corkins, shaking like a dry leaf in the wind. Here let us leave them awhile in their perplexity, while we retrace our steps, and take up again the adventures of Barnhurst and Dermoyne. We left them in the dimly-lighted bed-chamber, at the moment when the faithful wife, awaking from her slumber, welcomed the return of her husband in these words,--"Husband! have you come at last? I have waited for you so long!" "Husband!" said the wife, awaking from her sleep, and stretching forth her arms, "have you come at last? I have waited for you so long!" "Dearest, I was detained by an unexpected circumstance," answered Barnhurst, and first turning to Dermoyne with an imploring gesture, he approached the bed, and kissed his wife and sleeping child. Then back to Dermoyne again with a stealthy step,--"Take your revenge!" he whispered; "advance, and tell everything to my wife." Dermoyne's face showed the contest of opposing emotions; now clouded with a hatred as remorseless as death, now touched with something like pity. At a rapid glance he surveyed the face of the trembling culprit,--the boy sleeping on his couch,--the mother resting on the bed, with her babe upon her bent arm,--and then uttered in a whisper, a single word,--"Come!" He led Barnhurst over the threshold, out upon the landing, and carefully closed the door of the bed-chamber. "Now, sir," he whispered, fixing his stern gaze upon Barnhurst's face, which was lighted by the rays of the lamp in the hall below,--"what have you to propose?" Barnhurst's _blonde_ visage was corpse-like in its pallor.