half-parted. She stepped uncertainly back; a reaction swept over her;
the most trivial thoughts came to mind. She remembered that she had not
locked the door of her boudoir; that Sir Charles had told her to do so.
She almost started to obey; but laughed nervously instead. How absurd!
What, however, should she do? She looked toward the next room. Go to
bed? It seemed the commonplace, natural conclusion, and, after all, life
was very commonplace. But the coat and hat she had brought there?
Consideration of them, also, came within the scope of the commonplace.

It did not take her long to dispose of them, not on the rack, however.
Standing again, a few moments later, at the head of the stairway, in the
upper hall, she heard voices approaching. Whereupon she quickly dropped
both hat and coat on a chair near-by and fled to her room.

None too soon! From above footsteps were descending; people now passed
by; they evidently had been searching the third story. She could hear
their low, dissatisfied voices; the last persons to come she at once
recognized by their tones.

"You have made a bungling job of it," said Lord Ronsdale. There was a
suppressed fierce bitterness in his accents, which, however, in the
excitement of the moment, the girl failed to notice.

"He had made up his mind not to be taken alive, my Lord."

"Then--" The other interrupted Mr. Gillett harshly, but she failed to
catch more of his words.

"We've not lost him, my Lord," Mr. Gillett spoke again. "If he's not in
the house, he's near it, in the garden, and we have every way guarded."