road had opened and closed. He heard footsteps dying away in the
distance without. All was silent within the house.

* * * * *

Two men hastening in the night to the Hendon railway station paused at
that turn of the road which leads to the police offices and jail.

"You go on and take care of yourself--I'll follow in five minutes," said
one.

"You ain't going to give a man away?" said the other.

There was only a contemptuous snort for answer. The first speaker had
turned on his heel. When he reached the police offices, he rang the
bell. The door was answered by a sergeant in plain clothes. "I've found
your man for you," said Hugh Ritson.

"Where, sir?"

"At the Hawk and Heron."

"Who is he?"

"Paul Drayton. You'll find him lying in the garret at the west end of
the gable--drunk. Lose not an hour. Go at once."

"Is the gentleman who struggled with him still staying there--Mr. Paul
Ritson?"

"No; he goes back home to-night."

"What's his address in the country?"

"The Ghyll, Newlands, Cumberland."

"And yours, sir?"

"I am his brother, Hugh Ritson, and my address is the same."

"We'll go this instant."

"Well, take your piece of frieze with you and see if it fits. It was by
the torn ulster that I recognized your man. Good-night."

CHAPTER XVII.

As soon as the noise of the retiring steps had died away on Gubblum's
ear, he dressed himself partially, opened the door of his bedroom
cautiously, and stepped into the passage. He was still in the dark, and
groping with one hand, he felt for the ladder by which the two men had
carried their burden to the loft above. He had grasped the lowest rungs
of it, and was already some steps up, when he heard a singular noise. It
was something between the cry of a child and the deep moan of a sick
man. Did it come from the loft? Gubblum held his head in that direction
and listened. No; the sound was from the other end of the passage. Now
it was gone, and all was quiet. What a strange house was this!

"Can't see a styme," thought Gubblum. "I'll away for the cannel."

Back in his bedroom he struck a match, and then stepped afresh into the
passage, guarding the newly lighted candle with the palm of his hand.
Then there came a shrill cry. It seemed to be before him, above him,
behind him, everywhere about him. Gubblum's knees gave way, but the
stubborn bit of heart in him was not to be shaken.

"A rayder queerly sort of a hous