utting my clothes into sheets, preparatory to tossing them out the
window, when I found her, and I could hardly persuade her to stop.

"I want you to come with me, Liddy," I said. "Bring a candle and a
couple of blankets."

She lagged behind considerably when she saw me making for the east
wing, and at the top of the staircase she balked.

"I am not going down there," she said firmly.

"There is no one guarding the door down there," I explained. "Who
knows?--this may be a scheme to draw everybody away from this end of
the house, and let some one in here."

The instant I had said it I was convinced I had hit on the explanation,
and that perhaps it was already too late. It seemed to me as I
listened that I heard stealthy footsteps on the east porch, but there
was so much shouting outside that it was impossible to tell. Liddy was
on the point of retreat.

"Very well," I said, "then I shall go down alone. Run back to Mr.
Halsey's room and get his revolver. Don't shoot down the stairs if you
hear a noise: remember--I shall be down there. And hurry."

I put the candle on the floor at the top of the staircase and took off
my bedroom slippers. Then I crept down the stairs, going very slowly,
and listening with all my ears. I was keyed to such a pitch that I
felt no fear: like the condemned who sleep and eat the night before
execution, I was no longer able to suffer apprehension. I was past
that. Just at the foot of the stairs I stubbed my toe against Halsey's
big chair, and had to stand on one foot in a soundless agony until the
pain subsided to a dull ache. And then--I knew I was right. Some one
had put a key into the lock, and was turning it. For some reason it
refused to work, and the key was withdrawn. There was a muttering of
voices outside: I had only a second. Another trial, and the door would
open. The candle above made a faint gleam down the well-like
staircase, and at that moment, with a second, no more, to spare, I
thought of a plan.

The heavy oak chair almost filled the space between the newel post and
the door. With a crash I had turned it on its side, wedging it against
the door, its legs against the stairs. I could hear a faint scream
from Liddy, at the crash, and then she came down the stairs on a run,
with the revolver held straight out in front of her.

"Thank God," she said, in a shaking voice. "I thought it was you."

I pointed to the door, and she understood.

"Call out the