at stood on the writing-table; beside this table,
backed against it in an attitude of terror and surprise, stood Miss
Sophronia Montfort, her hands full of documents, her eyes glaring. There
was a moment of silence, and Margaret counted her heart-beats. Then--

"Can I be of any assistance to you, my dear Sophronia?" asked Mr.
Montfort, blandly. "You seem in distress; allow me to relieve you of
some of these." He took the papers quietly, and laid them on the table.
Miss Sophronia gasped once, twice; opened and shut her eyes several
times, and swallowed convulsively; when she spoke, it was with a
fluttering voice, but in something like her ordinary tone.

"My dear John! How you startled me! A--a--little surprise for you, my
dear fellow. Such a shocking condition as your papers were in. I
thought--a kindness--to bring a little order out of chaos; he! he!
ahem! my throat is troublesome to-night. A warm drink! Yes, my dear
John, I remembered the old passage, you see. I said, why should I
disturb the dear fellow, to ask him for the key to the outer door? And
really, John, these papers are too--too bad!"

She shook her head in a manner that was meant to be playful; but
suddenly the smile dropped from her face like a mask; for Mr. Montfort
did a singular thing. He bent his head forward slightly; fixed his eyes
on his cousin with a peculiar expression, and advanced slowly, one step.
"Sophronia!" he said.

Miss Sophronia began to tremble.

"Don't, John!" she cried. "John Montfort, don't do it! I am your own
cousin. Your father and mine were brothers, John. I hope I know my
duty--ah, don't! I will not, John Montfort!"

Margaret looked from one to the other in blank amazement. The lady
seemed in the extremity of terror. Her uncle--was this her uncle?
Instead of the grave, dignified gentleman, she seemed to see a boy; a
boy intent on mischief, every motion of him alive with power and
malice. Step by step he advanced, his hands clenched, his head bent
forward, his eyes still fixed, bright and strong, on his cousin.

"Sophronia!" he said, "I am coming! Sophronia! Sophronia! Sophronia!"
Each time he quickened voice and step. He was almost upon her; with one
wild shriek Miss Sophronia turned and fled. Her skirts whisked along the
secret passage; they heard the door bang. She was gone.

Mr. Montfort sat down in his study chair and laughed long and silently.

"Don't look so frightened, my dear!" he said, at last. "It was a scurvy