packed before; for
some reason he had got it back again. This time I had to pack it in the
little boxes, and after I had finished I waited up there till suddenly
he ran in very quickly and looking very excited. He said I had betrayed
them, and should suffer for it, and he took some rope and he tied me as
tightly as he could, and tied a great handkerchief over my mouth, and
pushed me inside the wardrobe and locked it. I think he would have
killed me then only he was afraid of Mr. Dunsmore, and very anxious to
know what had happened, and why Mr. Dunsmore had come home, and if there
was any danger. And I was a long time there, and I heard a great noise,
and then Mr. Dunsmore opened the door and took me out."

CHAPTER XXXI. CONCLUSION

Three months had passed, and in a quiet little cottage on the outskirts
of a small country town, situated in one of the most beautiful and
peaceful vales of the south-west country, Ella was slowly recovering
from the shock of the dreadful experiences through which she had passed.

She had been ill for some weeks, but her mother, fussily incompetent
at most times, was always at her best when sickness came, and she had
nursed her daughter devotedly and successfully.

As soon as possible they had come to this quiet little place where
people, busy with their own affairs and the important progress of the
town, had scarcely heard of what the newspapers of the day called "The
Great Chobham Sensation."

But, in fact, very much to Rupert's relief, comparatively little had
been made known publicly, and the whole affair had attracted wonderfully
little attention.

The one public proceeding had been the inquest of Deede Dawson, and that
the coroner, at the request of the police eagerly searching for Walter
Dunsmore, had made as brief and formal as possible. Under his direction
the jury had returned a verdict of "justifiable homicide," and Ella's
illness had had at least one good result of making it impossible for her
to attend to give her evidence in person.

At a trial, of course, everything would have had to be told in full,
but both Allen, Deede Dawson's accomplice, and Walter Dunsmore, his
instigator and employer, had vanished utterly.

For Walter the search was very hot, but so far entirely without result.
Now could Allen be found. He was identified with a fair degree of
certainty as an old criminal well known to the authorities, and it was
thought almost certain that he had had previ