to the dewy sod, and all the night seemed full to him of searching
footsteps and of a swift and murderous going to and fro.

He heard distinctly from the road a sudden, muffled sound as Clive
in the darkness blunderingly missed his footing and fell upon one
knee.

"That's finished him," Dunn thought grimly, his ears straining for
the sharp pistol report that would tell Clive's tale was done, and
then he was aware of a cat, a favourite of Ella's and often petted
by himself, that was crouching near by under a tree, most likely
much puzzled and alarmed by this sudden irruption of hurrying men
into its domain. Instantly Dunn saw his chance, and seizing the
animal, lifted it and threw it in the direction where he guessed
Deede Dawson to be.

His guess was good and fortune served him well, for the tabby
flying caterwauling through the air alighted almost exactly in
front of Deede Dawson on top of a small bush. For a moment it
hung there, quite unhurt, but very frightened, and emitted a yell,
then fled.

In the quietness the tumult of its scrambling flight sounded
astonishingly loud, so that it sounded as through a miniature
avalanche had been let loose in the garden.

"Only cats," Deede Dawson exclaimed disgustedly, and from behind,
nearer the house, Dunn called:

"Who's there? What is it? What's the matter? Is it Mr. Dawson?