With sensations which she would not have found it easy to describe, Miss Frances Vernon felt a great hand grip her by the shoulder with a degree of roughness to which she was unaccustomed, and heard a coarse voice exclaim:

"I arrest you! You're my prisoner?" The speaker seemed to be a little short of breath; she realised that he had been running towards her across the lawn; but shortness of breath did not prevent his tightening his grip upon her shoulder until it was all she could do to keep herself from crying out with pain. But she managed to keep still. It dawned on her that she had been mistaken for Dorothy; and that the longer the mistake continued the better start the girl would have. Her captor was joined by someone else--evidently his superior officer. "I've got her, sir--here she is."

The new-comer seemed also to be having some trouble with his breathing apparatus; words came from him in gasps.

"What's--your name--young woman?"

Frances hesitated; then, turning, as far as her captor would permit her to do, she looked at as much of her questioner's face as she could see in the darkness.

"What business is it of yours what my name is? How dare you ask me such a question?"

But the officer was not to be put off like that.

"It's no use your trying that tone with me. I've a right to ask you that question, and I do ask it. Are you Dorothy Gilbert? If you decline to answer I shall conclude that you are, and you're a prisoner."

"You may conclude what you like. While this coward keeps on hurting me, as he is doing now, I'll answer no questions; if he removes his hand from my shoulder I may, but while he continues torturing me I certainly won't."

"Are you hurting her, Jenkins?"

"No, sir; I've just got hold of her tight enough to keep her from getting away."

"Let go of her shoulder! Take her by the arm. Now, young woman, no nonsense. Are you Dorothy Gilbert?"

A voice came from the bank below them; the agitated West had suddenly woke to some consciousness of what was going on behind her.

"Dorothy Gilbert! Who's Dorothy Gilbert? That's not her!' You great stupids, that's not her! That's not her!"

West appeared at the top of the steps--if anything, more agitated than ever.

"Who are you?" asked the officer.

"Is that you, Sergeant Batters? Mr Batters, you know very well who I am--I'm Eliza West, that's who I am. It was me who came to the station and told you where Dorothy Gilbert was, and that hundred pounds reward is mine. I've fairly earned it, I have; I call everyone to witness! If you chaps hadn't been such slowcoaches you'd have her safe enough: it's hardly a minute since she went off with another chap. My 'Gustus--his name's Carter, and his number 294--he took her prisoner, she's his lawful prisoner, that's what she is; only the chap she's gone off with he chucked my 'Gustus into the river, and there he is at this moment, drowned for all I know."

West's strident voice rose almost to a wail; but no sooner had she ceased than another voice was heard, coming again from the bank below them.

"Easy, Eliza, easy!--it's not so bad as that! I've got as much water inside me as I care to swallow, and my uniform's about done for; but that's about the worst. Let alone that I can swim, he didn't throw me in so deep; if it hadn't been for the weeds I'd have been ashore before this, only I couldn't speak a word because of the water that had got in my throat." A hatless figure came up the bank, whose owner seemed conscious that, in his then condition, in that light, he might be unrecognisable. "It's me, sergeant--Carter, two, nine, four. I have to report that I arrested the girl, Dorothy Gilbert----"

"That you did, 'Gustus, I saw you do it; and that hundred pounds is mine--fairly earned!"

"Now, Eliza, I'm talking; you mind your own business, and leave that hundred pounds alone. I also arrested the chap who was with her; only, just as I was going to put the handcuffs on the pair of them, he chucked me into the river and that's how it is, sergeant."

Still a third voice joined in the conference; in spite of its easy suavity it was obviously one which was used to command.

"Policemen here? What is the meaning of this?"

The speaker came up the steps, on to the lawn.

"Is this the man," inquired Mr Batters of Mr Carter, "whom you arrested and who assaulted you?"

Mr Carter shook his head.

"No, sergeant, that's not the man; nothing like him."

The new-comer approached.

"Are you a sergeant of police? As Mr Vernon is a relative of mine, I should like to know what you, and your men, are doing on his grounds. I am the Earl of Strathmoira."

"Beg pardon, my lord, but I've come here to arrest the young woman who's wanted for the Newcaster murder, of which perhaps your lordship may have heard."

"Gracious! Are you looking for a person of that description on Mr Vernon's premises?"

"Fact is, my lord, I'm given to understand that she's a friend of the people here, and that she was here hardly two minutes ago. This man says he arrested her, together with a person who appears to have been in collusion with her; whereupon her accomplice threw this man into the river, and got off with her in a boat. If your lordship came by the river they may have passed you; you may have noticed them."

"My good sir, do you suppose that, on a night like this, when a big storm is evidently very close at hand, and one's sole aim is to reach shelter before it comes, that one has nothing better to do than notice strangers who may happen to pass you on the river? There's a flash for you! Why, if it's not my cousin, Miss Vernon. My dear Frances, I was wondering who you were when that flash of lightning kindly showed me; it has grown so dark that I doubt if I ever should have known you without its aid. Pray tell me what these persons are doing here."

Advancing to Frances, he took her hand in his, with a warmth of greeting which she seemed scarcely inclined to reciprocate. She seemed to find his presence not only unexpected, but something else as well; as if in his calm, easy bearing, and soft, plausible speech, she saw something which half-puzzled, half-frightened her. As, as if tongue-tied, she stood before him as he continued to hold her hand, the woman West said, speaking in tones which suggested that she was possessed by an inward excitement which rendered her almost inarticulate:

"'Gustus--sergeant--he's diddling you--sure as you're standing there, he's diddling you! Pretending that he don't know anything about Dorothy Gilbert, or what you're here for! Why, he's her special friend!--it was he who brought her here last night. I saw him with her--with my own eyes I saw him! And I tell you something else about him, sergeant: although it's true enough that he's the Earl of Strathmoira, all the same for that his private name is Eric Frazer, and he's wanted as well as her. There's a warrant out against him--I see it in the paper--for half killing that young gipsy on Newcaster Heath, who wanted to give her away to you chaps; and it's through him that she got clean off, and it was he who brought her straight from Newcaster here. So you take him prisoner, sergeant, before he does a bolt like she's done; but, whether you do or whether you don't, I call everyone to witness that I've given you the information, and that hundred pounds is fairly mine--yes, and it's fairly mine twice over!--twice over it's mine!"

By the time she had finished, the woman had raised her voice to a hysteric screech. Plainly the sergeant did not know what to make of her.

"What is the woman talking about? Carter, you seem to understand her better than I do; what's she mean?"

Mr Carter addressed the lady who loved him.

"If you take my tip, Eliza, you won't let us hear so much about the hundred pounds; it's all you can talk about."

"Well!--what else have I got to talk about? If it hadn't been for the hundred pounds, do you think I'd have said a word?--not me! And now, because you policemen are such blockheads, it looks as likely as not that I'm going to be done out of it after all; first you let the girl go, and now you won't take the man who's hand and glove with her; all the lot of you will let him fool you if he likes!--a pack of idiots you policemen are!--you're all the same!"

There was a diversion from the constable who had put his hand on Frances Vernon's shoulder.

"Excuse me, sergeant, but I think I know what she means; I saw about it in the paper, what she says; it's right enough that there is a warrant out for Eric Frazer, according to the paper."

"But I can't act on a mere statement which you say you saw in a paper, which may or may not be true. In the absence of official instructions I can't accept responsibility for what a newspaper says."

The Earl of Strathmoira applauded this explanation of the speaker's point of view.

"Precisely, sergeant; I am glad to find that there is one sensible person present. This woman, who, I fancy, is one of Mr Vernon's servants, is probably not quite right in her head; she is certainly not worthy either of your attention or mine. Come, Frances, this unpleasant scene has upset you; never mind! Let's go up to the house; possibly they'll be able to tell us there what all this pother is about."

West laid her hand on Mr Carter's arm.

"'Gustus, don't you let him fool you; don't you let him go--don't you let him! If Mr Batters won't arrest him, you arrest him on your own; you'll be blamed if you don't! You know I'm no fool--what I tell you's gospel truth; he's wanted as much as she is--take him on your own."

The faithful Carter hesitated. Drawing the woman close to him, he looked her steadily in the face; apparently on the strength of what he saw there he made the plunge, moving towards the object of the discussion with the simple statement:

"You're my prisoner, my lord."

The earl eyed him; then laughed.

"Your prisoner, my good man--are you joking?"

"No, my lord, I am not joking, I must ask you to consider yourself under arrest."

"On what charge?"

The woman cried out:

"I charge him, if it comes to that! I charge him with aiding and abetting Dorothy Gilbert to escape, and also with being her accomplice--if you take him to the station, 'Gustus, you'll find that you've done right."

The earl turned to Mr Batters.

"Sergeant, will you be so good as to recommend this man to be careful what he say and does, before he has cause for serious regret."

Instead, however, of doing as he was requested, the sergeant threw in his lot with his subordinate.

"I am sorry, my lord, to subject you to any inconvenience; but I am afraid I must ask you to accompany us to the station till this matter has been cleared up."

"Accompany you to the station! But suppose I decline?"

"I regret, my lord, that I cannot allow you to decline. This matter is more serious than you appear to think. I myself say nothing either one way or the other; but I notice that you have not attempted to deny the statements which have been made against you; and I have no option but to request you to come with me to the station to permit of their being properly gone into."

The earl addressed Mr Carter.

"My man! take care! Let me strongly advise you not to presume to touch me!"

The sergeant interposed.

"If your lordship will give me your word that you will accompany us quietly to the station I, on my side, will undertake that you shall be subjected to no personal indignity; only in so grave a matter we can't take any risks; you must give me your word, my lord. Do you do so?"

"Does he! No, he doesn't. Look out, 'Gustus--he's going to give you the slip."

This was West, in whom the instinct of the huntress seemed to be preternaturally keen. The sergeant exclaimed:

"None of that, my lord! Hold him, Carter!" But the sergeant's warning came too late--to hold his prisoner was more that Carter could do, since, before the warning came, he was already out of his sight. A second time that evening he was to be disappointed of his prey. West was right; his lordship gave him the slip. Running down the bank, he had leapt into the water before they could stop him--indeed, so far were they from stopping him it was all the sergeant and Mr Carter could do to keep themselves from--quite unintentionally--going after him.