elf in the wrong by effecting a
secret entrance into the house.

There was an interval--a horrible interval--and then they heard the
front door opened. Without stopping (judging by the absence of sound)
to close it again, Turlington rapidly ascended the stairs and tried the
locked door.

"Come out, and give yourself up!" he called through the door. "I have
got my revolver with me, and I have a right to fire on a man who has
broken into my house. If the door isn't opened before I count three,
your blood be on your own head. One!"

Launce was armed with nothing but his stick. He advanced, without an
instant's hesitation, to give himself up. Natalie threw her arms round
him and clasped him fast before he could reach the door.

"Two!" cried the voice outside, as Launce struggled to force her from
him. At the same moment his eye turned toward the bed. It was exactly
opposite the door--it was straight in the line of fire! Sir Joseph' s
life (as Turlington had deliberately calculated) was actually in greater
danger than Launce's life. He tore himself free, rushed to the bed, and
took the old man in his arms to lift him out.

"Three!"

The crash of the report sounded. The bullet came through the door,
grazed Launce's left arm, and buried itself in the pillow, at the very
place on which Sir Joseph's head had rested the moment before. Launce
had saved his father-in-law's life. Turlington had fired his first shot
for the money, and had not got it yet.

They were safe in the corner of the room, on the same side as the
door--Sir Joseph, helpless as a child, in Launce's arms; the women
pale, but admirably calm. They were safe for the moment, when the second
bullet (fired at an angle) tore its way through the wall on their right
hand.

"I hear you," cried the voice of the miscreant on the other side of the
door. "I'll have you yet--through the wall."

There was a pause. They heard his hand sounding the wall, to find out
where there was solid wood in the material of which it was built, and
where there was plaster only. At that dreadful moment Launce's composure
never left him. He laid Sir Joseph softly on the floor, and signed to
Natalie and her aunt to lie down by him in silence. Their lives depended
now on neither their voices nor their movements telling the murderer
where to fire. He chose his place. The barrel of the revolver grated
as he laid it against the wall. He touched the hair trigger. A faint
_click_ was the onl