and
turn the key! He heard Chantrell moving stealthily along the wall upon
his left hand and he suffered a moment's agony; for in the darkness he
could not surely tell which way the Major moved. For if he moved to
the window, if he had the sense to move to the window and tear aside
those drawn curtains, the grey twilight would show the shadowy moving
figures. Mitchelbourne's chance would be gone. And then something
totally unexpected and unhoped for occurred. The god of the machine
was in a freakish mood that evening. He had a mind for pranks and
absurdities. Mitchelbourne was strung to so high a pitch that the
ridiculous aspect of the occurrence came home to him before all else,
and he could barely keep himself from laughing aloud. For he heard two
men grappling and struggling silently together. Captain Bassett and
Major Chantrell had each other by the throat, and neither of them
had the wit to speak. They reserved their strength for the struggle.
Mitchelbourne stepped on tiptoe to the door, felt for the key, grasped
it without so much as a click, and then suddenly turned it, flung open
the door and sprang out. He sprang against a fourth man--the servant,
no doubt, who had misdirected him--and both tumbled on to the floor.
Mitchelbourne, however, tumbled on top. He was again upon his feet
while Major Chantrell was explaining matters to Captain Bassett;
he was flying down the avenue of trees before the explanation was
finished. He did not stop to untie his horse; he ran, conscious that
there was only one place of safety for him--the interior of Mrs.
Ufford's house. He ran along the road till he felt that his heart was
cracking within him, expecting every moment that a hand would be laid
upon his shoulder, or that, a pistol shot would ring out upon the
night. He reached the house, and knocked loudly at the door. He was
admitted, breathless, by a man, who said to him at once, with the
smile and familiarity of an old servant:

"You are expected, Mr. Lance."

Mitchelbourne plumped down upon a chair and burst into uncontrollable
laughter. He gave up all attempt for that night to establish his
identity. The fates were too heavily against him. Besides he was now
quite hysterical.

The manservant threw open a door.

"I will tell my mistress you have come, sir," said he.

"No, it would never do," cried Mitchelbourne. "You see I died at three
o'clock this afternoon. I have merely come to leave my letters of
presentation.