towards the window, which I now know to be the library. As I went, I
saw a bicycle leaning up against the wall by the window. I thought
that must be some visitor, but still I went on. But just as I
reached the window, I saw a flash of electric light; and by the
light, I could make out your father's head and beard. He looked as
if he were talking angrily and loudly to somebody. The window was
open. I was afraid to stop longer. In a sudden access of fear, I ran
across the shrubbery towards the garden-wall. To tell you the truth,
I was horribly frightened. Why, I don't know; for nothing had
happened as yet. I suppose it was just the dusk and the mean sense
of intrusion."

She paused and wiped her brow. I sat still, and listened eagerly.

"Presently," she went on, very low, "as I ran and ran, I heard
behind me a loud crash--a sound as of a pistol-shot. That terrified
me still more. I thought I was being pursued. Perhaps they took me
for a burglar. In the agony of my terror, I rushed at the wall in
mad haste, and climbed over it anyhow. In climbing, I tore my hand,
as you see, and made myself bleed, oh, terribly! However, I
persevered, and got down on the other side, with my clothes very
little the worse for the scramble. And, fortunately, I was carrying
a small light dust-cloak: I put it on at once, and it covered up
everything. Then I began to walk along the road as fast as I could
in the direction of the station. As I did so, a bicycle shot out
from the gate in the opposite direction, going as hard as it could
spin, simply flying towards Whittingham. Three minutes later, a man
came up to me, breathless. It was the gardener at The Grange, I
believe.