o your work!' said Mark Clay in a tone of contempt. 'And
where's the police?'

They were there, too, now, though where they had been up to this moment
did not seem certain.

'You can stand here now; the harm's done and the robbers gone,' he said
when they came to him. 'Bah! you're all in the same box.'

'Excuse me, Mr Clay, you mustn't bring charges like that against us,'
said one of them.

But Mark Clay took no notice of him or his protest, but walked back to
the motor, where Mrs Clay and Horatia still sat. 'Home, Tom, as long as
I've got one,' he muttered, as he got in and sat moodily looking before
him, and taking no notice of his white and shivering wife, or of Horatia,
who sat there looking the picture of misery; nor did he notice,
apparently, that neither Sarah nor Mr Howroyd was of the party.

Tom Fox drove up to the front-door, and Sykes, irreproachable as usual,
came down the steps and helped his master and mistress out of the car. He
gave no sign of anything at all unusual being amiss, for he was always
very grave, till his master said in a grim tone, 'Had any visitors,
Sykes?'

'No, sir; but we were ready for them if they'd come,' he then replied
significantly.

'Ay, you're true Yorkshire grit,' said his master, as he passed on into
the house in front of his wife, who, indeed, would hardly have got up the
steps but for Horatia's help and support.

'Oh Sykes! Oh, w'at a dreadful affair this is!' moaned Mrs Clay.

'We'll have to get rid of them southerners; they wouldn't face the crowd,
and are skulking in the stable-yard. I told the master what it 'u'd be,
but he wouldn't hearken to me. I'd got my men all ready, and not one
would have disobeyed me. Even Naomi came home to help, and offered to use
a gun if I'd show her how,' related Sykes, hoping by this tale of
devotion to please his mistress and distract her thoughts from a sad
subject.

But the effect was disastrous, for Mrs Clay gave a cry of horror and
burst into tears. 'Shoot! W'y should Naomi want a gun to shoot wi'? 'Oo's
she goin' to shoot? Oh, 'ow dreadful it all is! Shoot, indeed! 'Oo do you
want to shoot, Sykes?' she asked wildly.

'I don't want to shoot any one, ma'am; no more don't Naomi. And as the
danger's all over now we'd best say no more about it,' replied Sykes.

'Are you sure the danger's over?' demanded his mistress. And Horatia
asked the same question with her eyes.

Sykes made her a sign, which she did not understand, and