n that some terrible experience was in store for us.

It was twelve o'clock or thereabout when my sister suddenly sprang to
her feet and held up her fingers to bespeak attention.

"Do you hear nothing?" she asked.

I strained my ears, but without success.

"Come to the door," she cried, with a trembling voice. "Now can you hear
anything?"

In the deep silence of the night I distinctly heard a dull, murmuring,
clattering sound, continuous apparently, but very faint and low.

"What is it?" I asked, in a subdued voice.

"It's the sound of a man running towards us," she answered, and then,
suddenly dropping the last semblance of self-command, she tell upon
her knees beside the table and began praying aloud with that frenzied
earnestness which intense, overpowering fear can produce, breaking off
now and again into half-hysterical whimperings.

I could distinguish the sound clearly enough now to know that her quick,
feminine perception had not deceived her, and that it was indeed caused
by a running man.

On he came, and on down the high road, his footfalls ringing out clearer
and sharper every moment. An urgent messenger he must be, for he neither
paused nor slackened his pace.

The quick, crisp rattle was changed suddenly to a dull, muffled murmur.
He had reached the point where sand had been recently laid down for
a hundred yards or so. In a few moments, however, he was back on hard
ground again and his flying feet came nearer and ever nearer.

He must, I reflected, be abreast of the head of the lane now. Would he
hold on? Or would he turn down to Branksome?

The thought had hardly crossed my mind when I heard by the difference of
the sound that the runner had turned the corner, and that his goal was
beyond all question the laird's house.

Rushing down to the gate of the lawn, I reached it just as our visitor
dashed it open and fell into my arms. I could see in the moonlight that
it was none other than Mordaunt Heatherstone.

"What has happened?" I cried. "What is amiss, Mordaunt?"

"My father!" he gasped--"my father!"

His hat was gone, his eyes dilated with terror, and his face as
bloodless as that of a corpse. I could feel that the hands which clasped
my arms were quivering and shaking with emotion.

"You are exhausted," I said, leading him into the parlour. "Give
yourself a moment's rest before you speak to us. Be calm, man, you are
with your best friends."

I laid him on the old horsehair sofa, w