turned to his brother.

"What do you think we had better do?"

Never, I thought, had his indecision of character been more
apparent.

John rattled the handle of Mrs. Inglethorp's door violently, but
with no effect. It was obviously locked or bolted on the inside.
The whole household was aroused by now. The most alarming sounds
were audible from the interior of the room. Clearly something
must be done.

"Try going through Mr. Inglethorp's room, sir," cried Dorcas.
"Oh, the poor mistress!"

Suddenly I realized that Alfred Inglethorp was not with us--that
he alone had given no sign of his presence. John opened the door
of his room. It was pitch dark, but Lawrence was following with
the candle, and by its feeble light we saw that the bed had not
been slept in, and that there was no sign of the room having been
occupied.

We went straight to the connecting door. That, too, was locked
or bolted on the inside. What was to be done?

"Oh, dear, sir," cried Dorcas, wringing her hands, "what ever
shall we do?"

"We must try and break the door in, I suppose. It'll be a tough