He knew the way to the door which led into the garden, and opening
this, sprang into the darkness. Scarcely had he taken a step, when
strong arms seized him.

"Hold on!" said a voice. "You must come back with me into the house."

At the same moment there was a shriek close at hand, and, as they
turned to the open door, Paul and his captor saw Emily prostrate on the
threshold, and Miss Bygrave stooping over her.

"Better open the front door, ma'am," said the police officer, "and ask
my friend there to come through. We've got all we want."

This was done, and when Emily had been carried into the house, Paul was
led thither also by his captor. As they stood in the hall, the second
officer drew from his pocket a warrant, and read it out with official
gravity.

"You'll go quietly with us, I suppose?" he then said.

Paul nodded, and all three departed by the front door.

It was midnight and before Mrs. Enderby showed any signs of returning
consciousness. Miss Bygrave and Maud sat by her bed together, and at
length one of them noticed that she had opened her eyes and was looking
about her, though without moving her head.

"Mother," Maud asked, bending over her, "are you better? Do you know
me?"

Emily nodded. There was no touch of natural colour in her face, and its
muscles seemed paralysed. And she lay thus for hours, conscious
apparently, but paying no attention to those in the room. Early in the
morning a medical man was summoned, but his assistance made no change.
The fog was still heavy, and only towards noon was it possible to
dispense with lamp-light; then there gleamed for an hour or two a weird
mockery of day, and again it was nightfall. With the darkness came rain.

Waymark had come to the house about ten o'clock. But this was to be no
wedding-day. Maud begged him through her aunt not to see her, and he
returned as he came. Miss Bygrave had told him all that had happened.

Mrs. Enderby seemed to sleep for some hours, but just after nightfall
the previous condition returned; she lay with her eyes open, and just
nodded when spoken to. From eight o'clock to midnight Maud tried to
rest in her own room, but sleep was far from her, and when she returned
to the sick-chamber to relieve her aunt, she was almost as worn and
ghastly in countenance as the one they tended. She took her place by
the fire, and sat listening to the sad rain, which fell heavily upon
the soaked garden-ground below. It had a lulling effec