uman face. Already the thief was in the
room. She stood without a cry, without a movement, while her heart leaped
and fluttered within her bosom. She knew in that moment the extremity of
mortal fear.

A loud scratch sounded sharply in the room. A match spurted into flame,
and above the match there sprang into view, framed in the blackness of
the room, a wild and menacing dark face. The eyes glittered at her, and
suddenly a hand was raised as if to strike. And at the gesture Violet
Oliver found her voice.

She screamed, a loud shrill scream of terror, and even as she screamed,
in the very midst of her terror, she saw that the hand was lowered, and
that the threatening face smiled. Then the match went out and darkness
cloaked her and cloaked the thief again. She heard a quick stealthy
movement, and once more her scream rang out. It seemed to her ages before
any answer came, before she heard the sound of hurrying footsteps in the
corridors. There was a loud rapping upon her door. She ran to it. She
heard Ralston's voice.

"What is it? Open! Open!" and then in the garden the report of a rifle
rang loud.

She turned up the lights, flung a dressing-gown about her shoulders and
opened the door. Ralston was in the passage, behind him she saw lights
strangely wavering and other faces. These too wavered strangely. From
very far away, she heard Ralston's voice once more.

"What is it? What is it?"

And then she fell forward against him and sank in a swoon upon the floor.

Ralston lifted her on to her bed and summoned her maid. He went out of
the house and made inquiries of the guard. The sentry's story was
explicit and not to be shaken by any cross-examination. He had patrolled
that side of the house in which Mrs. Oliver's room lay, all night. He had
seen nothing. At one o'clock in the morning the moon sank and the night
became very dark. It was about three when a few minutes after passing
beneath the verandah, and just as he had turned the corner of the house,
he heard a shrill scream from Mrs. Oliver's room. He ran back at once,
and as he ran he heard a second scream. He saw no one, but he heard a
rustling and cracking in the bushes as though a fugitive plunged through.
He fired in the direction of the noise and then ran with all speed to the
spot. He found no one, but the bushes were broken.

Ralston went back into the house and knocked at Mrs. Oliver's door. The
maid opened it.

"How is Mrs. Oliver?" he asked, and h