hall reached the upper story at a point very near where the back stairs
came up, while they descended to widely different places in the lower
story, so that the burglar, looking down, could choose his flight of
stairs as soon as he saw his pursuer committed to the other, and thus
reach the lower hall with several seconds to spare. Fortunately,
however, Geoffrey remembered that there was a door at the foot of the
back stairs. With incredible quickness he turned off the light again,
threw his boots upstairs in the ingenious hope that the sound would give
the effect of his own ascent, dashed round and locked the door at the
foot of the stairs and then at the top of his speed ran up the front
stairs and down the back. The result was somewhat as he expected. The
burglar had reached the door at the foot of the stairs, and finding it
locked was half way up again when he and Geoffrey met. The impetus of
Geoffrey's descent carried the man backward. They both landed against
the locked door with a force that burst it open. Geoffrey, on top and
armed, had little difficulty in securing his bruised foe, and marching
him back to the library where he now took the precaution of locking all
the doors.

Geoffrey, who had felt himself tingling with excitement and the natural
love of the chase, now had time to wonder what he was going to do with
his capture. He thought of the darkness, the storm, the absence of the
two undermen, and the helplessness of the McFarlanes. Then he remembered
the telephone, which, fortunately, stood in a closet off the library.

He turned to the burglar. "Stand with your face to the wall and your
hands up," he said; "and if I see you move I'd just as lief shoot you as
look at you," with which warning he approached the telephone and, still
keeping an eye on the other, rang up central. There was no answer. He
rang again,--six, seven times he repeated the process unavailingly. He