er it had been, was not repeated.

Doctor Unonius stood for half a minute or so and gazed out with his
forehead pressed to the pane. Then he closed the shutter again, let
fall the curtain, and with a slight shiver went back to the
fireplace.

He had picked up a pair of tongs and was stooping to pick up the
charred ends of wood and pile them to revive the blaze, when another
sound fetched him upright again. This also was the sound of a horse
at a gallop, but now it drew nearer and nearer up the road.
It clattered past the courtlage wall, and with that came to a sudden
sprawling halt. A man's voice, the rider's, shouted some two or
three words the doctor could not catch; but a moment later he heard
the latch of the yard gate clink and horse and man lunge through, and
had scarcely time to arm himself with one of the guns before three
sharp strokes rattled on the back door.

Doctor Unonius hurried out to the passage. There he all but ran into
Mrs Tresize, who came downstairs, lamp in hand and fully dressed as
before. As before, too, she was entirely composed in manner.

'I will open,' she said. 'Go back and put the other gun away
quickly, the pistol too. Keep the one in your hand if you will, and
come back to me while I pretend to draw the bolts. No, please don't
argue. It will be all right if you do as I say.'

She appeared so very sure of herself that, against his will, the
doctor obeyed.

'_Pretend_ to draw the bolts?' he kept muttering. Had the door been
unbarred, then, all this while?

She was opening it, at any rate, when he returned to the passage.
But before lifting the latch she demanded, as if upon second
thought,--

'Who is there? And what is your business?'

'Mr Rattenbury,' answered a loud voice. 'You shall know my business
fast enough if you will kindly open.'

Without more ado she flung the door wide, and the ray of her lamp
fell upon Mr Rattenbury, the young riding-officer, cloaked,
high-booted, and spurred.

'A strange business it must be, sir,' said the widow, 'that brings
you hammering up sick folk at this time of night!'

'Sick folk, eh?' said the riding-master, with a brusque laugh.
'Sick folk don't usually sit up till past two in the morning ready
dressed. Hadn't we better stow that kind of talk, ma'am?'

'You had better,' Mrs Tresize answered composedly, 'hitch your
horse's bridle to the staple you'll find on the left, and step
inside--that is, if you are not in too grea