Burden had switched off some of the electric lights in the corridor—was, indeed, prepared to switch the remainder if any one happened to come up—and she could just see a face through the window. The sight of it almost made her scream, for the face was partially covered by a crape mask, through which the eyes gleamed fiercely.

Burden clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry of terror, and, absolutely incapable of remaining on the spot, fled to her own room and locked herself in.

Ted raised the window noiselessly and stepped into the corridor. He had a plan of the house, drawn from Burden's description, and he made straight for the countess' room. The Parson stood at the bottom of the ladder on guard. And each man carried a revolver loaded in all six barrels.

A few minutes before the burglar had so neatly effected his entrance, the men left the smoking room for the drawing-room—all excepting Lord Turfleigh, who had taken a soda and brandy with his cigar, and deemed it prudent to indulge in a little nap before joining the ladies.

Drake was a little less excited than he had been, but he was still resolved to ask Luce to be his wife, and he meant to take her into the conservatory, or one of the rooms where they could be alone for a few minutes. But when he entered the drawing-room she was playing. He went up to the piano, and, bending over it as if to look at the music, whispered:

"Will you go into the conservatory presently?"

She nodded, and without raising her eyes, but with a sudden flush. Drake went across the room to where Lady Angleford and Lady Wolfer were seated, talking, and the first word he heard was Nell's name.

"Of course it is the same," Lady Wolfer was saying eagerly. "Her brother was at the engineers, Bardsley & Bardsley! And Nell has been near us all this time, and in this house, and I didn't know it! If I had, I would have gone to her at once. She's the dearest and sweetest girl in all the world, and I owe her——" She stopped and sighed, but not sadly. "She left us quite suddenly to go to her stepmother, who was a cousin of my husband's; and I have only seen her once since. They—she and her brother—were living in one of these large mansions—a dreadfully crowded and noisy place; but, though they were poor, she seemed quite happy and contented. I begged her to come and live with me, but she would not leave her brother—though for that matter we should have been delighted to have him also, especially if he is anything like her. Oh, yes, the dearest girl! And you don't know how much I owe her! Some day I may be tempted to tell you." She sighed again, and was silent for a moment, as she recalled the scene in her bedroom on the night of the dinner party, the night before Nell had left Wolfer House so suddenly. "I must go and see her to-morrow morning. They say she is engaged to the young man, the violinist."

Lady Angleford nodded.

"Yes; and if she was engaged to him when you last saw her, that would account for her happiness, notwithstanding her poverty. She is an extremely pretty girl. I remember her quite well. I saw her at your dinner party, you know. I hope she is going to marry a man worthy of her. I'll go with you to see her to-morrow, if you'll let me."

Drake stood listening, his hands clasped behind his back, his face set sternly. Every word they said caused him a pang of pain; and as he listened, his mind went back to the happy weeks when Nell was engaged to a man who certainly was not worthy of her.

Lady Angleford looked up at him.

"We were talking of Miss Lorton and her brother, Drake," she said. "She's a kind of connection of Lady Wolfer's, and lived with them for a time. I wish you would see the brother and see if he really is too young to be the resident engineer. It would be so nice to have some one whom one knows."

"I will see," he said, so grimly that Lady Wolfer glanced up at him with some surprise; and, as he moved away, Lady Angleford looked after him and sighed.

"How changed he is!" she said, in a low voice.

"In what way?" asked Lady Wolfer.

The countess was silent for a moment or two.

"He seems as if he were unhappy about something," she said; "as if something were worrying him. I only saw him twice before he came into the title, and though he was by no means 'loud' or effusive, he was bright and cheerful; but now——I noticed the change the moment he came into the Hall on his return. It seems so strange. He had cause for anxiety then, for there was a chance of his losing Angleford; but now one would think he possessed all that a man could desire."

"The vanity of human wishes, my dear!" said Lady Wolfer. "Something may have happened while he was abroad," she suggested in a low voice.

"You mean a love affair? I don't think so."

The countess glanced toward the piano. She felt sure that Drake was about to renew his engagement with Lady Luce, and she deemed him the last man in the world to marry for the sake of "convenience."

Drake moved about the room restlessly, waiting for Luce to rise from the piano; but she was playing a long piece—an interminable one, as it seemed to him. Presently he felt for his pocket handkerchief, and, not finding it, remembered leaving it on the dressing table where Sparling had placed it. He went into the hall to send a servant for it; but there was not one in sight, and he went quickly up the stairs and entered his dressing room. He noticed that most of the electric lights were down, and, disliking the gloom, went toward the row of switches. They were fixed to the wall almost opposite Lady Angleford's dressing room, and as his hand went up to them, he heard a slight sound in the room.

It was a peculiar sound, like the soft bang which is made by the closing of a safe door. For a moment Drake paid no heed to it; then suddenly its significance struck upon him. Lady Angleford was in the drawing-room. Who could be at the safe?

He stepped outside the door, and waited for a second or two, then he opened the door softly, and saw a man rising from his knees in front of the safe. The man turned at the moment and stood with the case of diamonds in his hand—two other cases bulged from his side pockets—his eyes gleaming through his mask.

Now, in fiction the hero who is placed in this position always cries aloud for help, and instantly springs at the burglar; but in real life the element of surprise has to be taken into account; and Drake was too amazed at the moment to fling himself upon the thief. Besides, it is your weak and timid man who immediately cries for help. Drake was neither weak nor timid, and it would not occur to him to shriek for assistance. So the two men stood motionless as statues, and glanced at each other while you could count twenty. Then the burglar whipped a revolver from his pocket and presented it.

"Stand out of my way!" he said gruffly, and disguising his voice, for he knew how easily a voice can become a means of identification. "Better stand out of my way, or, by God! I'll fire!"

Drake laughed, the short laugh of a strong man ridiculing the proposal that he shall probably stand aside and permit a thief to pass with his booty.

"Put down that thing," he said. "You know you can't fire; too much noise. Put it down—and the cases. No? Very well!"

He sprang aside with one movement, and with the next went for the man.

Ted was really a skillful craftsman, and had taken the precaution to fasten a string across the room, from the bed to the grate.

Drake's foot caught in it, and he went sprawling on his face.

Ted sprang over him, and gained the corridor. With a dexterity beyond all praise, he switched off the remaining lights and then pushed up the window and dropped, rather than climbed, down the ladder.

Drake was on his feet in a moment and out in the corridor in the next. He had heard the window pushed up, and knew the point at which the man had made his escape.

Even then he did not give the alarm, and he did not turn up the lights, for he could see into the night better without them. He leaned out of the window and peered into darkness, and distinguished two forms gliding toward the shrubbery.

It was a long drop, but he intended taking it. He swung one leg over the sill as some one came up the stairs.

It was Sparling.

"Why are all the lights out?" he exclaimed. "Who's there?" for there was light enough from the hall for him to see Drake dimly.

"All right; it's I," said Drake quietly. "Turn up the lights. There are burglars. Don't shout; you'll frighten the ladies. Get the bicycle lamp from my room—quick!"

Sparling tore into the room, and came dashing out with the lamp, and, with trembling hands, lit it.

"Drop it down to me when I call," said Drake. "I'll risk its going out. Then get some of the men and search the grounds. And—mind!—no frightening the ladies!"

Then he lowered himself, dropped, and called up. He caught the lamp, which was still alight, and covering the glass with his hand, ran in the direction the men had taken; and as he ran he buttoned his dress coat over the big patch of white made by his wide shirt front.

He had stalked big game often enough to be aware that his only chance of tracking the thieves lay in his following them quietly and unseen, and he ran on tiptoe, and keeping as much as possible among the shrubs as he went, his ears and eyes strained attentively, he endeavored to put himself in their place.

"Yes," he muttered, "they'll make for the road, where there'll be a trap waiting for them—or bicycles; but which part of the road?"

The park fence was high, but easily climbable by an experienced burglar, and they might make for it at any point; presumably the nearest.

By this time he was cool enough, but extremely angry; and he blamed himself for falling so easily into the string trap. What he ought to have done——At this point in his futile reflections he stopped and listened, not for the first time, and he fancied he heard a rustling among the trees in front of him. He ran on as softly as possible, and presently saw a figure—one only—going swiftly in the direction of the lodge.

Drake understood in a moment; one man had gone to bring the vehicle near the gates, and this other man was waiting for it.

Up to this instant Drake had given no thought to the fact that he was pursuing two men, desperate, and, no doubt, armed, while he had no kind of weapon upon him. But now he smiled with a grim satisfaction as he saw that he had only one man to deal with.

Their separation was a point in his favor.

Steadily he followed on the man's track, and in a moment or two he saw the glimmer of the light from the lodge window; and as he saw it, he heard the roll of wheels approaching the gates.

The burglar, unacquainted with the topography of the road, was breaking his way through the undergrowth; and Drake, seeing that there was a chance of cutting him off by striking into one of the paths, turned into it.

He had to run for all he was worth now, and as he sped along he was reminded of his old college days, when he sprinted for the mile race—and won it. He reached a corner where the narrow path joined the wider one leading to the gate, and here he stopped, listening intently, and still covering the light of the lamp with his hand. Suddenly he heard footsteps near the lodge, and with a thrill of excitement more keen than any other chase had given him, he ran toward them.

As he did so, he caught sight of a woman's dress, and a faint cry of alarm and surprise arose. Was there a woman in the business?

Before he could answer the mental question he saw a figure—the figure he had been pursuing—dash from the woods on the right and make for the path he had just left. Drake swung round sharply and tore after him. The man looked over his shoulder, swore threateningly, and snatched something from his pocket. In drawing the revolver, however, he dropped something, and Drake saw, with immense satisfaction, that it was the diamond case.

"Give in, my man!" he said.

Ted laughed, caught up the case, and rushed on in the direction of the gate. But at that moment the tall figure of Falconer ran from the lodge.

Falconer stood for a moment, then he took in the situation, and dashing to the gate, flung it close. Ted heard the clang of the gate, and ran back toward Drake, with revolver raised.

Death stared Drake in the face; but it is at such moments that men of his temperament are coolest. He sprang aside as he had done in Lady Angleford's room. The revolver "pinged," there was a flash of light, but the bullet sped past him, and Drake flung himself upon his man.

Ted was as slippery as an eel, and striking Drake across the head with the revolver, he ran into the woods, with Drake after him; but the man knew there was no escape for him in that direction, and after a moment or two he turned and faced Drake again.

"Keep off, you fool, or I'll shoot you!" he growled hoarsely.

"Give in," said Drake again. "The game's up!"

Ted laughed shortly, and aimed the revolver again; but as his finger pressed the trigger, a cry rose from behind him, his arm was struck aside, and once more the bullet whizzed past its mark, and Drake was saved.

He saw the figure of a woman struggling with the burglar, saw the man raise his hand to strike her from him, saw her fall to the ground, and knew, by some instinct, that it was Nell.

In that instant the capture of the man was of no moment to him. With a cry, he flung himself on his knees beside her.

"Nell, Nell!" he panted. "Is it you?"

She remained quite motionless under his words, his touch, and he raised her head and tried to see her face.

The lamp he had dropped some moments before.

Suddenly a great shudder ran through her. She sighed, and opened her eyes.

"Drake!" she murmured; "Drake! Is he——"

He thought she referred to the man.

"Never mind him," he said eagerly. "Are you hurt? Tell me?"

She put her hand to her head, and struggled to her feet, swaying to and fro as if only half conscious, then her hands went out to him, and she uttered a cry of terror and anxiety.

"He—he shot you!" she gasped.

"No, no!" he responded quickly. "There is no harm done, if the brute has not hurt you."

She shook her head and leaned against the tree, trembling and panting.

"I was in the garden. I—heard you and the man running, and—and—I—ran across the path——"

"In time to save my life," he said gravely. "But I'd rather have died than you should come to harm."

As he spoke, he heard the noise of a struggle behind him. He had absolutely ceased to care what became of the man whom he had been pursuing so relentlessly for a few minutes before; but the noise, the hoarse cries, which now broke upon them had recalled him to a sense of the situation.

"They are struggling at the gate—I must leave you," he said hurriedly. And he ran down the path.

As he approached the gate, he saw Falconer and the burglar struggling together. Falconer was losing ground every moment, and as Drake was nearly upon them, Ted got his opponent under him; but Falconer still clung to him, and Ted could not get free from him. As he shot a glance at Drake he ground his teeth.

"Let me go, you fool!" he hissed. "Let me——"

He got one arm free, the glimmer of steel flashed in the dim light as he struck downward, and Falconer with a sharp groan loosed his hold.

Ted was clear of him in an instant and sprang for the gate; but as he opened it Drake was upon him. Ted was spent with his struggle with Falconer; he had dropped his revolver; Drake had seized the arm which held the knife—seized it in a grip like that of a vise.

"Parson! Quick!" cried Ted. The dogcart drove up to the gate, and the Parson was about to spring to the aid of his mate, when another figure came running up. It was Dick.

"Why, what on earth's the matter?" he cried.

At the sound of his voice, the Parson, counting his foes with a quick eye, leaped into the cart and drove away at a gallop. Ted cursed at the sound of the retreating cart and struck out wildly, but Drake had pinned him against the gate.

"Knock that knife out of his hand!" he said sharply, and Dick did so. In another moment the burglar was on his back in the road with Drake's knee on his chest.

"That will do!" he panted. "I give in! It's a fair cap! But if that white-livered hound had stood by me, I'd have beaten the lot of you! As it is, I've given as good as I've got, I fancy!" and he nodded tauntingly as he glanced to where Dick knelt beside Falconer.

Drake tore off the mask, and Ted shrugged his shoulders.

"You can take your knee off my chest, my lord," he said; "you're a tidy weight. Oh, I'm not going to try to escape. I know when I'm done. But it was a near thing."

Sparling and a couple of grooms with lanterns came running toward them, and Drake rose.

"Look to him," he said quietly. "He is not armed."

Ted took the cases from his pockets and flung them down as the men surrounded him; then he drew out a cigarette case, and, with a cockney drawl, said:

"Can one of you oblige me with a light?"

Sparling knocked the cigarette out of his hand, and one of the grooms growled:

"Shall I give him one over the head, for his cheek, Mr. Sparling?"

"Yes; that's about all you flunkeys can do; hit a man when he's down," said Ted. "But you needn't trouble. Here comes the peelers."

His quick ears had caught the heavy footsteps of the policeman, who came running up, and, before he was asked to do so, he held out his hands for the handcuffs.

"Is the cove dead?" he asked curtly; but no one answered him; indeed, no answer was possible, for Falconer lay like one dead, and Drake, who supported his head, could perceive no movement of the heart.

"One of you take a cart and go for the doctor," he said gravely.

As he spoke, Nell came toward them. The climax had been reached so quickly that Falconer had been wounded and the burglar caught before she could find strength to follow Drake; for the reaction which had followed upon her discovery of the fact that he was unhurt had made her weaker than the man's blow had done.

But now, as she saw the circle of men bending and kneeling round a prostrate figure, her terror rose again and she hurried forward. Pushing one of the men aside, she looked down, and with a cry fell on her knees beside the unconscious man and gazed with horror-stricken eyes.

"He is dead! He is dead! He has killed him!" she moaned.

There was a moment's silence, while Drake looked at her with set face and gloomy eyes; for at the anguish in her voice a pang of jealousy shot through him, of envy; for how willingly he would have changed places with the injured man!

He rose, lantern in hand, and went round to her.

"He is not dead," he said, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, thank God!" she breathed.

"But he is badly hurt, I am afraid," said Drake gravely. Then he turned to the men. "We will carry him to the lodge. Gently!"

They lifted the wounded man and bore him along slowly. As they did so, Nell walked by his side, and half unconsciously took his hand and held it fast clasped in her trembling one. Even at that moment he saw her actions, and his heart ached. Yes, to have Nell hold his hand thus, to have her sweet eyes resting on him so tenderly, so anxiously, he would have willingly been in Falconer's place.

They carried Falconer up to his room, and Drake, with the skill he had acquired in many a knife-and-gun-shot accident, staunched the wound. Falconer had been stabbed in the chest, and the blood was flowing, but slowly.

Drake was so absorbed in the task that he had forgotten Dick's presence until, looking up, he caught Dick's eye fixed on him with sheer wonder.

"Drake!" he said, in a whisper. "You here?"

Drake nodded.

"Yes; it's a strange meeting, Dick, isn't it? But we have been near each other—though we didn't know it—for some days past. You are 'the young engineer,' and I——"

He shrugged his shoulders, and Dick leaped at the truth.

"You are Lord Angleford?" he said.

Drake nodded.

"Yes. I'll explain presently. Just now all we can think of is this poor fellow."

"Poor chap!" said Dick sadly. "If I'd only come up a minute or two sooner—I'd gone down to the village for some 'bacca. Who'd have thought he was such a plucky one. For he's not strong, Drake, you see."

Drake nodded.

"No," he said; "but it is not always the strongest who are the bravest. Who is that?" for there came a knock at the door.

Dick went and opened it. Nell stood there, white to the lips, but calm and composed. He answered the question in her eyes.

"All right, Nell! Don't be frightened. He'll pull through; won't he, Drake?"

She turned her eyes upon him, and he met their appeal steadily.

"I hope so," he said.

She stole into the room, and, with her hands clasped, looked down at Falconer in silence.

"I hope so," repeated Drake emphatically. "There are not so many brave men that the world can afford to lose one."

She raised her eyes to his face quickly.

"Yes," he said, "he was unarmed and knew that it was a struggle for life, that the man was desperate and would stick at nothing. It was the pluckiest thing I have ever seen." Then he remembered how she had sprung forward to strike up the burglar's arm, and he added, under his breath, "almost the pluckiest."

The crimson dyed her face for a moment, and her eyes dropped under his regard; but she said nothing, and presently she stole out again.

It seemed an age to the two men before the doctor arrived, though the time was really short; it seemed another age while he made his examination. He met Drake's questioning gaze with the grave evasion which comes so naturally to the smallest of country practitioners.

"A nasty wound, my lord!" he said. "But I've known men recover from a worse one. Unfortunately, he is not a strong man. This poor fellow has known the meaning of privation." He touched the thin arm, and pointed to the wasted face. "They tell their own story! Now, if it were you, my lord——" he smiled significantly.

"Would to God it had been!" said Drake. The village nurse, whom the doctor had instructed to follow him, entered and moved with professional calm to the bedside, and the doctor gave her some instructions.

"I'll send you some help, nurse," he said.

As he spoke, Nell came to the door.

"No," she said, very quietly; "there is no need; I will help."

Almost as if he had heard her, Falconer's lips quivered, and he murmured something. Nell glided to the bed, and kneeling beside him, took his hand. His eyes opened, with the vacant stare of unconsciousness for a moment, then they recognized her, and he spoke her name.

"Nell!"

"Yes," she whispered, in response. "It is I. You are here at the lodge. Here is Dick, and"—her voice fell before Drake's steady regard—"you are with friends, and safe."

He smiled, but his eyes did not leave her face.

"I know," he said. "I—I am more than content."

Drake could bear it no longer. Dick followed him out of the room, and they went downstairs.

"I will wire for Sir William, the surgeon," said Drake, very quietly. "He will come down by the first train. Everything shall be done. Tell—tell your sister——"

Dick nodded gravely.

"He's one of the best fellows in the world; he's worth saving, Drake——" he said. "I beg your pardon," he broke off. "I—I suppose I ought to call you 'my lord' now. I can scarcely realize yet——"

Drake flushed almost angrily.

"For Heaven's sake, no!" he exclaimed. "There need be no difference between you and me, Dick, whatever there may be between——I'll come across in the morning to inquire, and I'll tell you all that has happened. Dick, you'll have to forgive me for hiding my right name down there at Shorne Mills. It was a folly; but one gets punished for one's follies," he added, as he held out his hand.

Still confused by the discovery that his old friend "Drake Vernon" was Lord Angleford, Dick could only let him go in silence, and Drake passed out.

As he did so, he looked up at the window of the sick room. A shadow passed the blind, and as he recognized it he sighed heavily. Yes; notwithstanding his wound and his peril, the penniless musician was the lucky man, and he, my Lord of Angleford, the most unfortunate and unhappy.

Slowly he made his way toward the house, and as he went the face and the voice of the woman he loved haunted him. For a moment she had rested in his arms, and he could still feel her head on his breast, still hear the "Drake, Drake!"

She had not forgotten him, then; she still remembered him with some kindness, though she loved Falconer? Well, he should be grateful for that. It would be good to think of all through the weary years that lay before him.

How beautiful she was! With what an exquisite tenderness her eyes had dwelt upon the wounded man! He started, and almost groaned, as he remembered that not so long ago those eyes had beamed love and tenderness upon himself.

"Oh, Nell, Nell!" broke from him unconsciously. "Oh, my dear, lost love! how shall I live without you, now that I have seen you, held you in my arms again?"

The great house loomed before him; the hall door was open; figures were standing and flitting in the light that streamed on the terrace; and with a pang he awoke to the responsibilities of his position, to the remembrance of his interview with Luce. There she stood on the top of the steps, a shawl thrown round her head, her face eager and anxious.

"Drake! Is it you?" she exclaimed; and she came down the steps to meet him, her hand outstretched.

The others crowded round, all talking at once. He shook her hand, held it a moment, then let it drop.

"He is all right, I hope," he said.

"He!" she murmured. "It is you—you, Drake!"

He frowned slightly.

"Oh! I?" he said, with self-contempt. "I have got off scot-free. Where is the countess?"

Lady Luce looked at him keenly, and with a half-reproachful air.

"I—I—have been very frightened, Drake," she said.

For the life of him he could not even affect a tenderness.

"On my account? There was not the least need."

Lady Angleford came forward hurriedly.

"Drake! You are not hurt! Thank God!" And her hands clasped his arm.

"You have got your jewels?" he said, in the curt tone with which a man tries to fend off a fuss. "Are they all there?"

She made an impatient movement.

"Yes, yes—oh, yes! As if they mattered! Tell me how that poor man is. How brave of him!"

He smiled grimly.

"Yes. He will pull round, I hope. We shall know more in the morning. Hadn't you ladies better go to bed? Wolfer, I have wanted a drink once or twice in my life, but never, I think, quite so keenly as now."

The men gathered round him as he stopped at the foot of the stairs to wish the women good night. Luce came last, and as she held out her hand, looked at him appealingly. Was he going to let her go without the word she had been expecting—the word he had promised? He understood the appeal in her eyes, but he could not respond. Not to-night, with Nell's face and voice haunting him, could he ask Lady Luce to be his wife. To-morrow—yes, to-morrow!

She smiled at him as he held her hand, but as she went up the stairs the smile vanished, and, if it is ever possible for so beautiful a woman to become suddenly plain, then Lady Luce's face achieved that transformation.

Gnawing at her underlip, she entered her room, flung herself into a chair, and beat a tattoo with her foot. The door opened softly, and Burden stole in. She was very pale, there were dark marks under her eyes, and she trembled so violently that the brushes rattled together as she took them from the table.

Lady Luce looked up at her angrily.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "You look more like a ghost than a human being, or as if you'd been drinking."

Burden winced under the insult, and stole behind her mistress' chair; but Lady Luce faced round after her.

"You're not fit to do my hair, or anything else!" she said. "What is the matter now? Your mother or one of your other relations, I suppose. You always have some excuse or other for your whims and fancies."

"I—I am rather upset, my lady!" Burden responded, almost inaudibly. "The—the robbery——"

"What does it concern you?" said Lady Luce sharply. "It is no affair of yours; your business is to wait upon me, and if you can't or won't do it properly——"

The brush fell from Burden's uncertain hand, and Lady Luce sprang to her feet in a passion.

"Oh, go away! Get out of my sight!" she said contemptuously. "Go down to the kitchen and tremble and shake with the other maids. I can't put up with you to-night."

"I'm—I'm very sorry, my lady. I'm upset—everybody's upset."

"Oh, go—go!" broke in Lady Luce impatiently. "If you are not better to-morrow, you'd better go for good!"

Burden stood for a moment uncertainly; then, with a stifled sob, left the room, and went down the corridor toward the servants' apartments; but halfway she stopped, hesitated, then descended the back stairs and stole softly along one of the passages. A door from the smoking room opened on to this passage, and against this she leaned and listened.

Sparling and the grooms who had joined in the pursuit of the burglars had come back full of the chase and its results, and there was an excited and dramatic recital going on in the servants' hall at that moment; but she dared not go there, though she was in an agony of anxiety to know the whole truth and the fate of her lover. Her face, her overwrought condition, would have betrayed her; so, at the least, would have caused surprise and aroused suspicion. She could not face the servants' hall, but she knew that the gentlemen would be discussing the affair in the smoking room, and that if she could listen unseen she should hear what had happened to Ted. It was Ted, and nothing, no one else she cared about.

All the men were in the smoking room, and all were plying Drake with questions. Drake, knowing that he would have to go through it, was giving as concise an account of it as was possible. He was wearied to death, not only of the burglary, but of the emotions he had experienced, and his voice was low and his manner that of a man talking against his will; but Burden heard every word, for, at its lowest, Drake's voice was singularly clear.

She listened, motionless as a statue, till he came to the point where the burglar had turned and faced him. Then she moved and had hard work to stifle a moan.

"That was a near thing, Angleford!" said Lord Turfleigh, over the edge of his glass; "a deuced near thing! If I'd been you, I should have cried a go, and let the fellow off. Dash it all! a man in your position has no right to risk his life, even for such diamonds as the Angleford."

Drake laughed shortly.

"I didn't think of the diamonds," he said quietly. "It was a match between me and the man. He missed me and bolted to cover. I followed, and he slipped behind a tree and aimed; but he missed—fortunately for me."

"Missed you?" said Lord Wolfer, who had been listening attentively and in silence. "How was that? You must have been very near?"

Drake was silent for a moment; then, as if reluctantly, he replied:

"There were several persons engaged in the game. One of them was a young lady who is staying at the lodge—the south lodge. She happened to be out, strolling in the garden, and heard the rumpus. And she"—he lit a fresh cigarette—"she sprang on him and struck his arm up!"

"No!" exclaimed one of the men. "Dash it all! Angleford, if this isn't the most dramatic, sensational affair I've ever heard of."

"Yes?" came in Drake's grave, restrained tones. "Yes, that saved my life."

There was a moment's silence, an impressive silence, then he went on:

"And did for the man. If he had disposed of me, he could have shot poor Mr. Falconer at the gate and got off. As it was——" He stopped and seemed to consider. "Well, it left me free to collar him at the gate, but not, unfortunately, until he had wounded Falconer."

"Poor devil!" muttered Lord Turfleigh. "Hard lines on him, eh, Angleford?"

"Yes," said Drake gravely.

"Then, as I understand it," said Lord Wolfer, "your life, the salvation of the countess' jewels, and the capture of the burglar are due to this lady?"

"That is so," assented Drake quietly.

"Who is she? What is her name?" asked several men, in a breath.

There was a pause, during which Burden listened breathlessly.

"Her name is Lorton," said Drake, very quietly. "She is staying at the south lodge."

Burden started and bit her lip. Lorton? Where had she heard——

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Wolfer. "You don't mean that Miss Lorton who was with us?"

Drake nodded.

"The same," he said gravely.

Burden's lips twitched, and her hands gripped the edge of the door frame.

There was silence for a moment, then one of the men asked:

"And what do you think the fellow will get, Angleford?"

"It all depends," replied Drake, after a pause. "If this fellow Falconer should die——Well, it will be murder. If not—and God grant he may not!—it will be burglary simply, and it will mean penal servitude for so many years."

"And serve him right, whichever way it goes!" cried one of the men. "Anyway, this young lady, this Miss Lorton, is a brick! Here's her health!"

Burden waited for no more. She was white still, but she was trembling no longer. Her eyes were glowing savagely, and her lips were strained tightly. Her sweetheart was captured; he would either be hanged or sentenced to penal servitude; and Miss Lorton was the person with whom she had to reckon!