"Quick!" cried Desmond. "Round to the door! The other fellow will
escape!"

He himself sprinted round the front of the house to the door by which the
servants had issued, and met the squire hobbling along on his stick,
pistol in hand.

"We have got one, sir!" cried Desmond. "Have you seen the other?"

"What--why--how many villains are there?" replied the squire, who,
between amazement and wrath, was scarcely able to appreciate the
situation.

"There was a man in the library; he did not come down the ladder; he may
be still in the house."

"The deuce he is! Desmond, take the pistol, and shoot the knave like a
dog if you meet him."

"I'll guard the door, Sir Willoughby. They are bringing the other man
round. Then we'll go into the house and search. He can't get out without
being seen if the other doors are locked."

"Locked and barred. I did it myself an hour ago. I'll hang the villain."

In a few moments the servants came up with their captive and the box, old
Dickon following. Only their figures could be seen: it was too dark to
distinguish features.

"You scoundrel!" cried the squire, brandishing his stick. "You'll hang