have known that he would not yet have retired to rest.

Desmond was about to run round to the other side of the house and rouse
the squire, when the dim light in the strong room was suddenly
extinguished. Apparently the confederate of the man below had secured his
booty and was preparing to return. Desmond remained fixed to the spot, in
some doubt what to do. He might call to Dickon and make a rush on the man
before him, but the laborer was old and feeble, and the criminal was no
doubt armed. A disturber would probably be shot, and though the shot
would alarm the household, the burglars would have time to escape in the
darkness. Save Sir Willoughby himself, doubtless every person in the
house was by this time abed and asleep.

It seemed best to Desmond to send Dickon for help while he himself still
mounted guard. Creeping silently as a cat along the shrubbery, he
hastened back to the laborer, told him in a hurried whisper of his
discovery, and bade him steal round to the servants' quarters, rouse them
quietly, and bring one or two to trap the man at the foot of the ladder
while others made a dash through the library upon the marauder in the
strong room. Dickon, whose wits were nimbler than his legs, understood
what he was to do and slipped away, Desmond returning to his coign of
vantage as noiselessly as he came.

He was just in time to see that a heavy object, apparently a box, was
being lowered from the library window on to the ladder. Sliding slowly
down, it came to the hands of the waiting man; immediately afterwards the
rope by which it had been suspended was dropped from above, and the dark
figure of a man mounted the sill.

He already had one leg over, preparing to descend, when Desmond, with a