t night and burnt to the
ground; old Mr. Dudgeon was shot and is lying dangerously ill, while
Mr. Durham had his skull fractured and is at death's door."

Mrs. Burke reeled.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped.

Before Wallace could reach her she lurched heavily forward and fell,
striking her face against the edge of the counter.

Rushing to the door leading to the house, Wallace called to Bessie.

"Come quickly," he cried, "Mrs. Burke has fainted."

He was raising her from the floor as Bessie came.

"Help me to get her into the dining-room," he exclaimed. "What a silly
woman! I'm afraid she has hurt her face rather badly. She struck it
against the counter."

Bessie lent a somewhat unwilling aid. She disliked Mrs. Burke as
cordially as she disliked Wallace, but she helped to support the
semi-conscious woman, and undertook to revive her as soon as they had
placed her on the sofa.

Wallace returned to the office, leaving the two together. Presently Mrs.
Burke came back, pale and agitated, and with a pronounced discolouration
on her face where it had come in contact with the counter.

"I must apologise, Mr. Wallace," she began, as soon as she entered the
office. "Sure it's only us poor weak women who know the cruel pain of
an unexpected blow. You'll not believe me, but when I heard the
terrible news, it just turned my heart to stone, it did. Poor Mr.
Durham! A fine, brave, clever gentleman if ever there was one, Mr.
Wallace, and to think of him with all his brains scattered. It's no
wonder I fainted."

"But I did not tell you that, Mrs. Burke. I said his skull was
fractured, and that he is at death's door."

"Well, isn't that what I was saying?"

"No. I did not say his brains were knocked out. As a matter of fact,
they are all in his head where I hope they will always remain, so that
he can complete his task of catching your friends who were so
considerate as to carry off your papers."

"My friends, do you call them, Mr. Wallace? Sure I'd teach them a new
form of friendship if I had my hands on them for a few minutes. But tell
me now, what's being done with those poor wounded creatures? The girl
told me the old man had had his leg blown off. Well, well! He won't
refuse a chair next time he comes to see you, I'll wager. Or maybe he'll
have his twenty-five thousand sovereigns made into a special wooden leg
to take the place of the other live one he's lost."

"His leg was not blown off--he was shot."

"It's all the