"

Arnold did not hesitate for a moment. What he had seen at Hampstead
belonged to himself. He deliberately wiped out the memory of it from
his thoughts.

"On Thursday evening here."

The inspector made a note in his pocket-book. Then he turned again
to Ruth.

"You can give me no explanation, then, as to your uncle's absence
to-night?"

"None at all. I can only say what I told you before--that I expected
to find him here on my return."

"Was he here when you left this morning?"

"I believe so," Ruth assured him. "He very seldom comes out of his
room until the middle of the day, and he does not like my going to
him there. As we started very early, I did not disturb him."

"Have you any objection," the inspector asked, "to telling me where
you have spent the whole of to-day?"

"Not the slightest," Arnold interposed. "We have been to Bourne End,
and to a village in the neighborhood."

The inspector nodded thoughtfully. Ruth leaned a little forward in
her chair. Her voice trembled with anxiety.

"Please tell me," she begged, "what is the charge against my uncle?"

The inspector glanced over his shoulder at that inner room, from
which fitful gleams of light still came. He looked down at the heap
of pistols and ammunition by his side.

"The charge," he said slowly, "is of a somewhat serious nature."

Ruth was twisting up her glove in her hand.

"I do not believe," she declared, "that Isaac has ever done anything
really wrong. He is a terrible socialist, and he is always railing
at the rich, but I do not believe that he would hurt any one."

The inspector looked grimly at the little pile of firearms.

"A pretty sort of armory, this," he remarked, "for a peace-loving
man. What do you suppose he keeps them here for, in his room? What
do you suppose--"

They all three heard it at the same time. The inspector broke off in
the middle of his sentence. Ruth, shrinking in her chair, turned her
head fearfully towards the door, which still stood half open. Arnold
was looking breathlessly in the same direction. Faintly, but very
distinctly, they heard the patter of footsteps climbing the stone
stairs. It sounded as though a man were walking upon tiptoe, yet
dragging his feet wearily. The inspector held up his hand, and his
subordinate, who had been searching the inner room, came stealthily
out. Ruth, obeying her first impulse, opened her lips to shriek. The
inspector leaned forward and his hand suddenly closed ove