those modishly flat affairs so widely advertised by
collarmakers).

For now the miscreant was facing Sally as he bent over the table and
fumbled with the lock of the jewel-case, and she made good use of this
chance to memorise a countenance of mildly sardonic cast, not
unhandsome--the face of a conventional modern voluptuary,
self-conscious, self-satisfied, selfish--rather attractive withal in
the eyes of an excited young woman.

But a moment later, finding the case to be fast-locked, the burglar
gave utterance to an exclamation that very nearly cost him his appeal
to her admiration. She couldn't hear distinctly, for the impatient
monosyllable was breathed rather than spoken, but at that distance it
sounded damnably like "_Pshaw!_"

And immediately the man turned back to the desk to renew his
rummaging--in search of a key to fit the case, she guessed. But his
business there was surprisingly abbreviated--interrupted in a
fashion certainly as startling to him as to her who skulked and spied
on the dark side of the folding doors.

Neither received the least intimation that the door from the library
to the hall had been opened. Sally, for one, remained firmly persuaded
that they two were alone in the silent house until the instant when
she saw a second man hurl himself upon the back of the first--a
swift-moving shape of darkness, something almost feline in his grim,
violent fury that afforded the victim no time either to turn or to
lift a hand in self-defence. In a twinkling the two went headlong to
the floor and disappeared, screened by the broad top of the table.

There, presumably, Blue Serge recovered sufficiently from the shock of
surprise to make some show of fighting back. Confused sounds of
scuffling and hard breathing became audible, with a thump or two
deadened by the rug; but more than that, nothing--never a word from
either combatant. There was something uncanny in the silence of it
all.

For an instant Sally remained where she was, rooted in fright and
wonder; but the next, and without in the least understanding how she
had come there, she found herself by the open door in the entry-hall,
just beyond the threshold of the library, commanding an unobstructed
view of the conflict.

Apparently this neared its culmination. Though he had gone down
face forward, Blue Serge had contrived to turn over on his back, in
which position he now lay, still struggling, but helpless, beneath the
bulk of his assailant-