soon in the outer chamber.

"Now," said Stone in a low voice, "you give me the furze--there, that'll
do. Will, have you got the pot with the powder and lamp-black?--that's
your sort--where's the ropes?--all right--now then."

All reached the floor of the outer room without any mishap, and then,
treading with the utmost caution, approached the bed in the inner room.
The sleeper did not stir. Ben Stone threw the light upon the prostrate
figure, which lay coiled up, and apparently quite unconscious. A rope
was now thrown loosely round, the men crawling along the floor, and just
raising themselves on one elbow as they jerked it lightly across the
bedstead; then another coil was made higher up, still the sleeper did
not stir hand or foot.

"Now, then," cried Ben, half out loud, and throwing the full blaze of
the lantern on the bed's head; in a moment the other men had drawn the
ropes tight, and Jones leant over with his pot. But before Ben had time
to plunge the furze upon the unhappy victim's face, a suppressed cry
broke from the whole group. It was no living being that lay there, but
only a bundle of old carpeting, with a dirty coverlid thrown over it.
The next instant the truth burst upon them all. Johnson was gone. They
looked at one another the very picture of stupid bewilderment. A hasty
flash of the lantern showed that there was no other bed in the chamber.

"Well, here's a go," whispered Jones; "the bird's flown, and a pretty
tale we shall have to tell."

"Stop," said Ben, in an under-voice, and motioning the others to keep
quiet, "maybe he's sleeping on the couch-chair in the house."

"I'll go and see," said Jones.

Cautiously he descended the stairs, terrified at every creak they made
under his weight. Did he hear anything? No; it was only the pattering
of the rain-drops outside. Stealthily he peeped into the kitchen; no
one was there, the few smouldering ashes in the grate being the only
token of recent occupation. So he went back to his friends in the
chamber.

"Eh, see, what's here!" cried one of the men, in an agitated voice;
"look on the floor."

They turned the light of the lantern on to the chamber-floor, and a
strange sight indeed presented itself. Right across the room, in
regular lines, were immense letters in red and black adhering to the
boards.

"Ben, you're a scholar," said Jones; "read 'em."

Stone, thus appealed to, made the light travel slowly along the words,
and read in