be no doubt of the fact--the inmates of the house
were imprisoned till he came back. What did it mean?

(It meant that Turlington's vengeance still remained to be wreaked on
the woman who had deceived him. It meant that Sir Joseph's life still
stood between the man who had compassed his death and the money which
the man was resolved to have. It meant that Richard Turlington was
driven to bay, and that the horror and the peril of the night were not
at an end yet.)

Natalie and her aunt looked at each other across the bed on which Sir
Joseph lay. He had fallen into a kind of doze; no enlightenment could
come to them from _him_. They could only ask each other, with beating
hearts and baffled minds, what Richard's conduct meant--they could only
feel instinctively that some dreadful discovery was hanging over them.
The aunt was the calmer of the two--there was no secret weighing heavily
on _her_ conscience. _She_ could feel the consolations of religion. "Our
dear one is spared to us, my love," said the old lady, gently. "God has
been good to us. We are in his hands. If we know that, we know enough."

As she spoke there was a loud ring at the doorbell. The women-servants
crowded into the bedroom in alarm. Strong in numbers, and encouraged by
Natalie--who roused herself and led the way--they confronted the risk
of opening the window and of venturing out on the balcony which extended
along that side of the house. A man was dimly visible below. He called
to them in thick, unsteady accents. The servants recognized him: he was
the telegraphic messenger from the railway. They went down to speak to
him--and returned with a telegram which had been pushed in under the
door. The distance from the station was considerable; the messenger had
been "keeping Christmas" in more than one beer-shop on his way to the
house; and the delivery of the telegram had been delayed for some
hours. It was addressed to Natalie. She opened it--looked at it--dropped
it--and stood speechless; her lips parted in horror, her eyes staring
vacantly straight before her.

Miss Lavinia took the telegram from the floor, and read these lines:

"Lady Winwood, Hertford Street, London. To Natalie Graybrooke, Church
Meadows, Baxdale, Somersetshire. Dreadful news. R. T. has discovered
your marriage to Launce. The truth has been kept from me till to-day
(24th). Instant flight with your husband is your only chance. I would
have communicated with Launce, but I do not kn