nd Miss Wilson's voice, reassuringly
firm, was heard.

"Who is that?"

"It is I, Miss Wilson, and Gertrude. We have been watching the storm,
and there is some one knocking at the--" A tremendous battery with
the knocker, followed by a sound, confused by the gale, as of a man
shouting, interrupted her.

"They had better not open the door," said Miss Wilson, in some alarm.
"You are very imprudent, Agatha, to stand here. You will catch your
death of--Dear me! What can be the matter? She hurried down, followed
by Agatha, Gertrude, and some of the braver students, to the hall, where
they found a few shivering servants watching the housekeeper, who was at
the keyhole of the house door, querulously asking who was there. She
was evidently not heard by those without, for the knocking recommenced
whilst she was speaking, and she recoiled as if she had received a blow
on the mouth. Miss Wilson then rattled the chain to attract attention,
and demanded again who was there.

"Let us in," was returned in a hollow shout through the keyhole. "There
is a dying woman and three children here. Open the door."

Miss Wilson lost her presence of mind. To gain time, she replied, "I--I
can't hear you. What do you say?"

"Damnation!" said the voice, speaking this time to some one outside.
"They can't hear." And the knocking recommenced with increased urgency.
Agatha, excited, caught Miss Wilson's dressing gown, and repeated to her
what the voice had said. Miss Wilson had heard distinctly enough, and
she felt, without knowing clearly why, that the door must be opened, but
she was almost over-mastered by a vague dread of what was to follow. She
began to undo the chain, and Agatha helped with the bolts. Two of the
servants exclaimed that they were all about to be murdered in their
beds, and ran away. A few of the students seemed inclined to follow
their example. At last the door, loosed, was blown wide open, flinging
Miss Wilson and Agatha back, and admitting a whirlwind that tore round
the hall, snatched at the women's draperies, and blew out the lights.
Agatha, by a hash of lightning, saw for an instant two men straining at
the door like sailors at a capstan. Then she knew by the cessation of
the whirlwind that they had shut it. Matches were struck, the candles
relighted, and the newcomers clearly perceived.

Smilash, bareheaded, without a coat, his corduroy vest and trousers
heavy with rain; a rough-looking, middle-aged man, poorly dresse