through the
shop, but opened and locked the back door of the cellar, ascended the
steps and went out into the street through the side passage. "If they
come," he thought as he walked into the gathering night, "they won't
find these. No! no!" and he hugged the bags closely.

Sylvia upstairs waited anxiously for the return of her father from the
hospital, as she both wanted to hear how her lover was progressing and
what he said about the permission to marry being given. But Aaron did
not come to supper, as was his usual custom. Bart said, when inquiries
were made, that the master had gone down into the cellar and was
probably there. Meanwhile, according to his usual habit, he put up the
shutters and departed. Sylvia and Deborah ate their frugal meal and
retired to bed, the girl much disturbed at the absence of her father.
Outside, in the street, the passers-by diminished in number, and as the
night grew darker and the lamps were lighted hardly a person remained in
Gwynne Street. It was not a fashionable thoroughfare, and after
nightfall few people came that way. By eleven o'clock there was not a
soul about. Even the one policeman who usually perambulated the street
was conspicuous by his absence.

Sylvia, in her bed, had fallen into a troubled sleep, and was dreaming
of Paul, but not happily. She seemed to see him in trouble. Then she
woke suddenly, with all her senses alert, and sat up. Faintly she heard
a wild cry, and then came the twelve strokes of the church bells
announcing midnight. Breathlessly she waited, but the cry was not
repeated. In the darkness she sat up listening until the quarter chimed.
Then the measured footsteps of a policeman were heard passing down the
street and dying away. Sylvia was terrified. Why, she hardly knew: but
she sprang from her bed and hurried into Deborah's room. "Wake up," she
said, "there's something wrong."

Deborah was awake in a moment and lighted the lamp. On hearing Sylvia's
story she went down the stairs followed by the girl. The door at the
bottom, strange to say, was not locked. Deborah opened this, and peering
into the shop gave a cry of alarm and horror.

Lying on the floor was Aaron, bound hand and foot.

CHAPTER VII

A TERRIBLE NIGHT

"Go back!--go back, my precious!" cried Deborah, her first thought being
how to spare Sylvia the sight.

But the girl, remembering that agonized cry which had awakened her,
faint and far away as it sounded, pushed past th