s screwed together, and its sharp
edge inserted between the door and the post, but the great, solid
mahogany door stood firm, only emitting now and then a loud crack, sharp
as that given by a cart whip, as the men strained at it in turn.

"Here, let's try a saw. Centre-bit!"

A centre-bit was fitted into a stock, and a hole cut right through.
Into this, after much greasing, a key-hole saw was thrust, and, not
without emitting a loud noise, the work of cutting began, the sawdust
falling lightly on the lion's skin; but at the end of a few seconds a
dull, harsh sound told that the saw was meeting metal, and a fresh start
had to be made.

For fully two hours did the men work to get through, boring and sawing
in place after place, but always to find that the door was strengthened
in all directions with metal plates; and at last the task was given up.
"Look here," growled the leader of the party, "that bed isn't used. I
want to know how that chap got in. He hasn't any key."

"Can't you get the door open, then?" said the third man, after the other
had shaken his head.

"Why, don't you see we can't?"

"But we shall get nothing for our trouble."

"Nothing at all," said the tall man, quietly.

"But--"

"There, that'll do. First of all, you were so precious anxious to go.
Now you know we can't get down, you're all for the job. I say, is this
the room where the murder was?"

"Yes; don't talk about it."

"Why not? We haven't done another. He'll come round."

"What next, Dick?"

"Cut," was the laconic reply.

"When there's all that plate asking of us to make up a small parcel and
carry it away?"

"Don't patter. Got all the tools?"

"Yes."

"Then come along."

The light was played upon Capel's insensible face for a few moments, and
then, to the intense relief of the ex-servant, the lantern was placed in
the bag with the burglars' tools, and the window being thrown open, one
by one stole out, the last closing the window behind him, leaving Capel
lying helpless and insensible in the locked-up room.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

WAITING FOR BREAKFAST.

"Such a bright cheery morning, Lydia," said Katrine, knocking at the
bedroom door. "Oh, you are up. Breakfast must be ready."

The two girls descended, to find that they were first.

"Nobody down," cried Katrine, "and I am so hungry. Oh, how wicked it
seems on a morning like this to keep out all the light and sunshine."

Just then, old Mr Girtle ca