ound. He took up the pen; made out and signed the preposterous
cheque.

To the ruling but silent intelligence concealed behind those double
doors he had no thought of appeal. He dared not even address himself to
that invisible being. Such idea was as far from his mind as it must have
been of old from the mind of him who listened to a Sybilline oracle
delivered from the mystic tripod.

Sufficiently he controlled his twitching fingers to write a note, as
follows--(what awful irony!):

"To the Editor of the _Gleaner_,

"SIR,--I enclose a cheque for L100,000" (as he wrote these dreadful
words, Rohscheimer almost contemplated rebellion; but the
silence--the fearful silence--and the thought of the one who
watched him proved too potent for his elusive courage. He wrote
on). "I desire you to place it at the disposal of the Government
for purposes of ariel" (Rohscheimer was no scholar) "defence. I
hope others will follow suit." (He _did_. It was horrible to be
immolated thus, a solitary but giant sacrifice, upon the altar of
this priest of iconoclasm)--"I am, sir, yours, etc.

"JULIUS ROHSCHEIMER."

Cheque and note he folded together, and stretching his hand behind him,
threw them in the direction of the haunted wardrobe. His fear that, even
now, he might be assassinated, grew to such dimensions that he came near
to swooning. But upon no rearward glance did he venture.

Several heavy vehicles passed along the Lane. Rohscheimer listened
intently, but gathered no sound from amid those others that gave clue to
the enemy's movements.

Clutching at the table-edge he sat, and tasted of violent death, by
anticipation.

The traffic sounds subsided again. A new stillness was born. Within the
great house nothing moved. But still Julius Rohscheimer shook and
quivered. Only his mind was clearing; and already he was at work upon a
scheme to save his money.

One hundred thousand pounds. Heavens above! It was ruination!

A faint creak.

"Do not dare to look around again until you have my permission," read
the card before his eyes. "If you do so once I _may_ only warn you; if
you do so twice, I shall kill you."

One hundred thousand pounds! He could have cried. But, after all, he was
a rich man--a very rich man; not so rich as Oppner, nor even so rich as
Hague; but a comfortably wealthy man. Life was very good in his eyes.
There were those little convivial evenings--those