to make them keep their rooms, madam," he said to Sophy. "But
there's no doing with them when they're frightened."

Bellamy explained that Lady Wychcote had screamed from nightmare, but,
as Mr. Chesney had been taken seriously ill and was delirious, she had
thought it better to get up.

"Just send the maids to bed, and come back, Jepson--we may need you," he
concluded.

He was nonplussed as to the next move to make. Should he have the door
of Chesney's bedroom forced, the man, frenzied with alcohol and drugs,
might commit some hideous act of folly--either against himself or
against others. He might just be climbing in again at his window as the
door was burst open, and throw himself backwards in his rage onto the
flagged court below.

Lady Wychcote and Gerald finally joined them as they stood perplexed,
looking at that locked door, listening for some sound from behind it
that would tell them that Cecil had come back safe from his perilous
clambering over the dark roof. It was agreed that all should await
events, together, in Sophy's bedroom. It was the nearest room to
Cecil's, and by leaving the door open they could still see his door, and
Gaynor sitting before it.

The night dragged on interminably--one of those grisly nights, when not
only illness but peril and fear and madness squat on the hearthstone.

About five o'clock, they saw Gaynor start and rise, listening. They all
rose. Bellamy went towards the door. Gaynor turned and came to meet him.

"He's back, sir," the man whispered. "He's moving round heavy-like. Do
you think it may have worn off, sir?"

"I don't know," said Bellamy.

He, too, went and listened. Suddenly harsh, snoring breaths--slow,
regular--fell on his ear. He straightened, giving a long sigh of relief.

"What is it, sir?" whispered the valet eagerly.

"He's asleep, Gaynor. He'll sleep for hours now. You'd better get some
rest."

He went back to the others.

"It's over for the present," he explained. "You need have no more
anxiety for the next seven or eight hours--maybe more. By what train do
you expect Nurse Harding, Mrs. Chesney?"

"I had a letter. She will come early to-morrow morning--I mean this
morning," Sophy corrected herself, looking at the bone-white dawn that
showed in streaks through the heavy somnolence of the wrapt trees.
Gerald had opened the shutters fully an hour ago, looking for the
daybreak.

"Good!" said Bellamy. He glanced at the worn faces about him. "Now I