this Major Jones-Farnell had caused Mr. Carrington to take the remarkable precautions that he had? Undoubtedly his "fear of burglars" dated from about the time of the supposed invalid's arrival in Northden. Was it possible that——?

But suddenly the brown study into which Laurence had fallen was interrupted by the faint sound of someone moving among the trees that formed an avenue leading to the old house outside which he was standing. The disturbing noise was a faint one,—merely that of the snapping of a twig,—but it was sufficient to cause the young man to turn and peep over the fence in the direction whence the sound came.

For a long time he peered into the shadows without detecting any sign of a living creature; then he caught sight, all of a moment, of a dark figure moving swiftly and silently between the trees nearest the apparently uninhabited house. Laurence strove to shout and inquire what the person was doing at such an hour; yet, for some reason, he seemed unable to cry out or move.

He stood there, his heart beating so loud that it seemed to outdin the patter of the rain upon the leaves, until the mysterious figure disappeared from view. So stealthily did it glide away that more than once Laurence rubbed his eyes, doubting whether he had really seen anything or only imagined that he had not been alone in the darkness of the night.

When the unknown figure was gone he regained his voice, and in loud tones cried out, "Who is there?" But no reply came save the echoing repetition of his own words, which died away gently in the swaying tree-tops.

He waited, glaring at the darkness. Then by chance his eye lighted upon one of the windows of the desolate Dene. It was a bow window, thickly curtained and draped with black. But what the midnight watcher saw—what filled him with a sudden coldness and an incomprehensible sense of horror—was that at one corner the curtain had been carefully drawn aside, and that a face with the nose pressed white against the pane was framed in the window and lighted by the moon's pale rays—a face as brutal and awe-inspiring as it was sinister and uncanny. Only for one moment did it remain before being withdrawn as suddenly as it had come.

With his nerves disturbed by the events of the night, Laurence vainly endeavoured to persuade himself that all he had seen had merely figured in his imagination. But the memory of the silent being among the trees and the strange face at the window was not to be effaced. And, still pondering on these irregular nocturnal events, the young man turned on his heel, and, reaching the Manse, was glad to place the stout oak door of his home between himself and the weird noises and shadows of the outside world.

CHAPTER IV

GOOD NEWS AND BAD

The Squire, with his marked punctuality, was down in the dining-room when Laurence appeared next morning. He was pale and moody, carefully avoiding any allusion to the event of the previous night. His son could not help noticing the bulge in his coat, that betrayed the hiding-place of Mr. Carrington's revolver. He was inclined to smile at the idea of the old gentleman attempting to defend himself, for he had made no effort to do so the night before.

After breakfast, Laurence made his way into the garden for a smoke. The day had brightened up, and the sun had made a welcome appearance in the heavens.

The Manse gardener was working outside one of the greenhouses, and respectfully saluted young Carrington as he strolled up to him.

"Well, Head," Laurence remarked, "seen anything of our mysterious neighbours?"

He had been careful to impress upon Kingsford and Moggin the necessity of keeping silent about the attempt on the Squire's life, and merely asked the question because it was one which interested him and the gardener also.

"Yes, sir," responded Head promptly, "we're beginning to learn something about them. Either Major Jones, or his seckitary, or the hodd man rides a bicycle."

Laurence could not help staring at this intelligence. The gardener, however, did not notice his young master's movement, and proceeded.

"Well, you see, sir, it was this way. My little girl, she tumbled into the nettles late last evening, and, lor! wasn't there a shindy! The wife doctored the stings as best she could, and put the youngster to bed, she and I following soon after. Well, about half-past ten the poor child, not being able to sleep because of the blisters caused by the nettles, my wife said to me, 'Head,' she says, 'just you run out and gather some dock weed to lay on the blisters.' Up I got to do as she asked me, and went out. You know my house, sir? Well, I was going along the hedge at the bottom of the garden, just by the road, when I spied a cluster of docks at the corner by the fence that cuts our garden off from the Dene. As I was gathering some large leaves, what should I happen to do but look over the wall and see a queer man creeping along on the other side leading a bicycle. He jumps through a gap in the hedge, bicycle and all, and rides off down the road. Of course in the dark I couldn't hascertain what his features were like, sir."

"Indeed," broke in Laurence, in a tone which was meant to signify that the incident did not interest him so much as it really did, "and this bicyclist of yours, from which direction did he come?"

"I suppose he came from the house, sir; where else? Though it did strike me as funny that he should go out of his way as he did, for he started off in the direction of the East Cave and the Markiss's."

"And you saw no more of him?"

"No, sir."

Laurence moved away in the direction of the house, whence simultaneously there emerged old Mr. Carrington and his watch-dog, Kingsford.

"My dear Laurence," said the former, in evident consternation, "read this. The Marquis has just sent it over by special messenger." He handed his son a pencil-scrawled note as he spoke. This Laurence took, and found that it read as follows: