trembling
hands, while Mike scraped up handful after handful of gold coins and
poured them into it. They were busily engaged on their joint task as
Beaumaroy stole along the passage and, reaching the front door, again
stood listening.

The Sergeant was still keeping his vigil before the door. He had no doubt
that it was locked; did not Beaumaroy see Mrs. Wiles and himself out of
it every evening--the back door to the little house led only on to the
heath behind and gave no direct access to the road--and lock it after
them with a squeaking key? He would have warning enough if anyone turned
the key now. He was looking towards the road; a surprise was more
possible from that quarter; his back was towards the door and only a very
little way from it.

But when Beaumaroy had entered with Doctor Mary, he had not re-locked the
door; he opened it now very gently and cautiously, and saw the Sergeant's
back--there was no mistaking it. Without letting his surprise--for he had
confidently supposed the Sergeant to be in the Tower--interfere with the
instant action called for by the circumstances, he flung out his long
right arm, caught the Sergeant round the neck with a throttling grip, and
dragged him backwards into the house. The man was incapable of crying
out; no sound escaped from him which could reach the Tower. Beaumaroy set
him softly on the floor of the passage. "If you stir or speak, I'll
strangle you!" he whispered. There was enough light from the passage lamp
to enable the Sergeant to judge, by the expression of his face, that he
spoke sincerely. The Sergeant did not dare even to rub his throat, though
it was feeling very sore and uncomfortable.

There was a row of pegs on the passage wall, just inside the door. On
them, among hats, caps, and coats--and also Mr. Saffron's gray
shawl--hung two long neck-scarves, comforters that the keen heath winds
made very acceptable on a walk. Beaumaroy took them, and tied his
prisoner hand and foot. He had just completed this operation, in the
workmanlike fashion which he had learnt on service, when he heard a
footstep on the stairs. Looking up, he saw Doctor Mary standing there.

Her waiting in the room above had seemed long to her. Her ears had been
expecting the sound of Beaumaroy's tread as he mounted the stairs, laden
with his burden. That sound had not come; instead, there had been the
soft, just audible, plop of the Sergeant's body as it dropped on the
floor of the passage.