She had to be placed in another room and soothed to rest, for her own apartment was temporarily converted into a prison for the enraged burglars, who were bound securely on the floor, while Crawford grimly guarded them with a murderous-looking revolver. The other man servant had been sent into town for the legal authorities to come and take them away. Laurie had a flesh-wound in his arm from a knife-thrust, but after the doctor had dressed and bandaged it he declared cheerfully that it would be almost well to-morrow. The worst case he had was Gipsy, and he looked grave over the bruised and swollen limb that Lucinda bared for his inspection. “You had a lucky escape from a fractured limb; it came very near it,” he said bluntly, adding: “You will not be out of bed for a week.” But Gipsy scarcely thought of herself. She was so thankful to know that the burglars had been caught before they did any harm. She was feeling rested and refreshed, Lucinda having given her some light food and wine, and could tell her story in broken sentences, answering their kindly questions. “Satan kicked me with his front hoof when I sprang at his head and jerked him down, but it was surely an accident. I do not believe he would hurt me if he knew it,” she said. “He ought to be shot,” grumbled the doctor. “Oh, no, not for worlds!” exclaimed Gipsy tenderly. Here Miss Willoughby, with the proverbial curiosity of the spinster tribe, cried eagerly: “But tell us now, my dear, how you ever managed to get to Laurie’s aid as soon as you did? He declared that there must have been witchcraft about it. Just a few minutes before you were standing on top of the precipitous cliff, far above, but right in the nick of time, just as if you had flown down on wings, there you were at the horses’ heads, and saved them from toppling over into the river.” “It was a terrible moment!” exclaimed Gipsy. Then, with a faint smile on her pain-drawn lips, she added: “I might make quite a secret of my feat, and mystify you all, but I don’t care to be branded as a witch, as well as a gipsy, so I will confess. Have none of you ever heard of the Hole in the Rock, as people call it?” “Oh, yes, certainly,” exclaimed Miss Willoughby; but the doctor owned to ignorance, so she explained: “From the top of the cliff, a mile from here, there is a deep split in the rock from top to bottom, coming out into the road. The solid rock seems to have been rent by some volcanic shock ages ago, and formed a rough, circuitous passage, like a winding, irregular stairway, difficult of descent, but affording a quick route to the road below.” “Quite remarkable,” exclaimed the doctor, adding: “So you took that route, Miss Darke, to the assistance of your friends?”