soon as look at
you." She clutched at the bell rope as she spoke. "I'll swear I'm in
danger of my life from you and give you in charge. Yes, and when you're in
prison I'll keep you there till you die. I've often thought I'd do it. How
about the hotel robberies last summer at Cowes, eh? Mightn't the police be
grateful for a hint or two? And how about--"

The keys fell with a crash on the bed, accompanied by some bad language in
an apologetic tone, and the door slammed to. I crept trembling to bed.

This new and horrible complication of the situation filled me with
dismay. Lord Carwitchet's wolfish glance at my rubies took a new meaning.
They were safe enough, I believed--but the sapphire! If he disbelieved his
mother, how long would she be able to keep it from his clutches? That she
had some plot of her own of which the bishop would eventually be the
victim I did not doubt, or why had she not made her bargain with him long
ago? But supposing she took fright, lost her head, allowed her son to
wrest the jewel from her, or gave consent to its being mutilated, divided!
I lay in a cold perspiration till morning.

My terrors haunted me all day. They were with me at breakfast time when
Lady Carwitchet, tripping in smiling, made a last attempt to induce me to
accompany her and keep her "bad, bad boy" from getting among "those horrid
betting men."

They haunted me through the long peaceful day with Leta and the
_tete-a-tete_ dinner, but they swarmed around and beset me sorest when,
sitting alone over my sitting-room fire, I listened for the return of the
drag party. I read my newspaper and brewed myself some hot strong drink,
but there comes a time of night when no fire can warm and no drink can
cheer. The bishop's despairing face kept me company, and his troubles and
the wrongs of the future heir took possession of me. Then the uncanny
noises that make all old houses ghostly during the small hours began to
make themselves heard. Muffled footsteps trod the corridor, stopping to
listen at every door, door latches gently clicked, boards creaked
unreasonably, sounds of stealthy movements came from the locked-up
bathroom. The welcome crash of wheels at last, and the sound of the
front-door bell. I could hear Lady Carwitchet making her shrill _adieux_
to her friends and her steps in the corridor. She was softly humming a
little song as she approached. I heard her unlock her bedroom door before
she entered--an odd thing to do. Tom c