annoyed to hear themselves called
muttons," laughed Archie, and the two men left the room.

The night was darker than ever, and a fine rain was falling incessantly.
When they left the dimly lighted archway of the fort through the
smaller, gate set in the larger one they stepped into midnight blackness
such as must have been spread over the land of Egypt. In accordance
with the primitive customs of Gartley inhabitants, one of them at least
should have been furnished with a lantern, as it was no easy task
to pick a clean way through the mud.---However, Archie, knowing the
surroundings better even than Random, led the way, and they walked
slowly through the iron gate on the hard high road which led to the
Fort. Immediately beyond this they turned towards the narrow cinder path
which led through the marshes to Mrs. Jasher's cottage, and toiled on
cautiously through the misty rain, which fell continuously. The fog was
drifting up from the mouth of the river and was growing so thick that
they could not see the somewhat feeble lights of the cottage. However,
Archie's instincts led him aright, and they blundered finally upon the
wooden gate. Here they paused in shocked surprise, for a woman's scream
rang out wildly and suddenly.

"What, in heaven's name, is that?" asked Hope, aghast.

"We must find out," breathed Random, and raced through the white
cotton-wool of the fog up the path. As he reached the veranda the door
opened and a woman came running out screaming. But other screams inside
the cottage still continued.

"What is the matter?" cried Random, seizing the woman.

She proved to be Jane.

"Oh, sir, my mistress is being murdered--"

Hope plunged past her into the corridor, not waiting to hear more. The
cries had died down to a low moaning, and he dashed into the pink parlor
to find it in smoky darkness. Striking a match, he held it above his
head. It showed Mrs. Jasher prone on the floor, and a dark figure
smashing its way through the flimsy window. There was a snarl and the
figure vanished as the match went out.

CHAPTER XXIV. A CONFESSION

Jane was still being held by Sir Frank at the floor, and was still
screaming, fully convinced that her captor was a burglar, in spite of
having recognized him by his voice. Random was so exasperated by her
stupidity that he shook her.

"What is the matter, you fool?" he demanded. "Don't you know that I am a
friend?"

"Y-e-s, s-i-r," gasped Jane, fetching her bre