y word, Eustace," exclaimed the Scotsman, "it's the best
joke ever I heard or saw. Come and look at your black-fellow and be
proud of yourself."

"I can't!" said Eustace, his knees knocking together as he
attempted to stand, and he fell back on the bed.

"Oh, what is it, Mr. Robertson?" asked Mrs. Orban.

"Why, it's nothing but a miserable, half-starved dingo-dog that
must have prowled up to the house in search of food," Robertson
said. "You marked him well--I will say that for you, Eustace. He
was dead before I could reach the steps."

"Thank God it was not a human being," exclaimed Mrs. Orban.

"A dingo!" cried Eustace, sitting up suddenly with a perplexed
expression in his eyes. "Then who fired the first shot? I mean the
one that woke me."

The relief faded from Mrs. Orban's face. It was a startling
question, an uncomfortable reflection that the first shot had not
been accounted for.

"Yes, by the way," she said, "there was that other shot. It seemed
to come from Eustace's room, and I was frightened out of my wits. I
was thankful to see him safe and sound a minute later."

"I heard two shots distinctly," Robertson said, looking grave; "but
of course I fancied Eustace had fired twice at the dingo."

"Not I," said Eustace. "I never saw the beast till I came into
mother's room; and I didn't fire till it stood up against the
window and looked like a human being."

"H'm," said Robertson. "It strikes me I had better have a look
round. Just stay here till I come back."

The women all looked scared. It was not a pleasant idea that the
person who fired that first shot was possibly lurking about
somewhere in the shadows. They listened breathlessly as Robertson
made the tour of the house, momentarily expecting a fresh
commotion, the firing of shots and a struggle. Mrs. Robertson was
dreadfully upset, and held her two children close; the maids
huddled together in a corner. Mrs. Orban stood, revolver in hand,
near Becky's bed with such quiet dignity that somehow Eustace was
steadied.

The chances were that, finding himself hunted by Robertson, the man
would try to effect an escape on to the veranda this way as a short
cut to the steps.

If the visitor were the same as that of the night before, it was
all important he should be captured--otherwise this disagreeable
night raid might be repeated.

But no shots and no sound of a scuffle were heard. Robertson
returned to say that he had investigated every nook and