erhaps it is an empty room. Now, I
wonder whether--"

The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he stood
still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light shone on
the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming along the
corridor--a younger and better-looking woman than he had expected to
see. In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a
double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the
light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the
fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the
room.

"Must have been my fancy," said a pleasant voice.

"Bless her," smiled Mr. Travers.

His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next
moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key
turned in the lock.

"Got you!" said the voice, triumphantly. "Keep still; if you try and
break out I shall shoot you."

"All right," said Mr. Travers, hastily; "I won't move."

"Better not," said the voice. "Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at
you."

"Point it downwards, there's a good girl," said Mr. Travers, earnestly;
"and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd
never forgive yourself."

"It's all right so long as you don't move," said the voice; "and I'm not
a girl," it added, sternly.

"Yes, you are," said the prisoner. "I saw you. I thought it was an
angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and--"

A faint scream interrupted him.

"You'll catch cold," urged Mr. Travers.

"Don't you trouble about me," said the voice, tartly.

"I won't give any trouble," said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was
time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. "Why don't you call for
help? I'll go like a lamb."

"I don't want your advice," was the reply. "I know what to do. Now,
don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the
window, but I've got the other one for you if you move."

"My dear girl," protested the horrified Mr. Travers, "you'll alarm the
neighbourhood."

"Just what I want to do," said the voice. "Keep still, mind."

Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any
case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed.

"Stop!" he said, earnestly. "Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar;
I'm doing this for a friend of yours--Mr. Benn."

"What?" said an a