ll. Nothing more. Don't spread the alarm."

"Is anything very serious the matter?" said a voice at the door.

"Yes--no, my dear. Go away now," cried the old lawyer, "Mr Capel is
ill."

"There is something terribly wrong again," said a deeper voice, and,
white as ashes and closely followed by Katrine, Lydia came in.

She uttered a faint cry, and then wrested herself from Artis, who tried
to stop her.

"No," she cried, imperiously, changed as it were in an instant from a
shivering girl into a thoughtful woman. "Quick: go for help. Mr
Girtle, what can I do?"

"Yes, let me help too," said Katrine. "What is it; has he tried to kill
himself?"

"No," cried Lydia, turning upon her fiercely. "He was too true a man."

"I'm afraid there has been an attempt made by burglars," said the old
lawyer, "and that our young friend has been trying to defend the place;
but--but he was locked in here--the key was in my table--and--and--I'm
afraid I'm growing very old--things seem so much confused now."

He put his hand to his head for a few moments and looked helplessly from
one to the other. Then his customary _sang froid_ seemed to have
returned.

"This is not a sight for you, ladies," he said. "Pray go back."

"I am not afraid, Mr Girtle," said Katrine, with a slight shudder as
she looked eagerly about the room.

For her answer, Lydia took water from the wash-stand, and began to bathe
the blood-smeared face, kneeling down by Capel's side.

Just then Preenham entered with decanter and glass, the former
clattering against the latter, as he poured out some of the contents.

Holding a little of the brandy to Capel's clenched teeth, Mr Girtle
managed to trickle through a few drops at a time, while Lydia continued
the bathing, and Katrine stood, like some beautiful statue, gazing down
at them with wrinkled brow and clasped hands.

By this time, the knowledge that something was wrong had reached the
women-servants, and they had both come to the door.

"No, no; keep them away, Preenham," said Mr Girtle, in answer to offers
of assistance. "You go down, too, and be at the door, ready to let the
doctor in."

"Yes, sir, I will," said the old butler, piteously; "but my young
master--will he live?"

"Please God!" said the lawyer simply.

"But he is not dead, sir?"

"There is your answer, man," said Mr Girtle, for just then Capel
uttered a low moan.

The old butler bent down on one knee, and Lydia darted at him a grat