within. Roland made sign to the post-boy to knock again. He did so
twice, thrice; and at last, from an attic window in the roof, a head
obtruded and a voice cried, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm the post-boy at the Red Lion; I want to see the servant with the
brown carriage: I have found this purse!"

"Oh! that's all; wait a bit."

The head disappeared. We crept along under the projecting eaves of the
house; we heard the bar lifted from the door, the door itself cautiously
opened: one spring, and I stood within, and set my back to the door to
admit Roland.

"Ho, help! thieves! help!" cried a loud voice, and I felt a hand grip
at my throat. I struck at random in the dark, and with effect, for my
blow was followed by a groan and a curse.

Roland, meanwhile, had detected a ray through the chinks of a door in
the hall, and, guided by it, found his way into the room at the window
of which we had seen the light pass and go, while without. As he threw
the door open, I bounded after him and saw, in a kind of parlor, two
females,--the one a stranger, no doubt the hostess; the other the
treacherous abigail. Their faces evinced their terror.

"Woman," I said, seizing the last, "where is Miss Trevanion?" Instead of
replying, the woman set up a loud shriek. Another light now gleamed
from the staircase which immediately faced the door, and I heard a
voice, that I recognized as Peacock's, cry out, "Who's there?--What's
the matter?"