“It is the old selfish cry, that,” she answered.  “Please do not be foolish, Arnold.  Do not be like those silly boys who only plague one.  With you and me, things are more serious.”

The car came to a standstill before the portals of Pelham Lodge.  Arnold held her fingers for a moment or two after he had rung the bell.  Then he turned away.  She called him back.

“Come in with me for a moment,” she murmured.  “To-night I am afraid.  Mr. Weatherley will be in bed.  Come in and sit with me for a little time until my courage returns.”

He followed her into the house.  There seemed to Arnold to be a curious silence everywhere.  She looked in at several rooms and nodded.

“Mr. Weatherley has gone to bed,” she announced.  “Come into my sitting-room.  We will stay there for five minutes, at least.”

She led the way across the hall towards the little room into which she had taken Arnold on his first visit.  She tried the door and came to a sudden standstill, shook the handle, and looked up at Arnold in amazement.

“It seems as though it were locked,” she remarked.  “It’s my own sitting-room.  No one else is allowed to enter it.  Groves!”

She turned round.  The butler had hastened to her side.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked.  “My sitting-room is locked on the inside.”

The man tried the handle incredulously.  He, too, was dumbfounded.

“Where is your master?” Mrs. Weatherley asked.

“He retired an hour ago, madam,” the man replied.  “It is most extraordinary, this.”

She began to shiver.  Groves leaned down and tried to peer through the keyhole.  He rose to his feet hastily.

“The lights are burning in the room, madam,” he exclaimed, “and the key is not in the door on the other side!  It looks very much as though burglars were at work there.  If you will allow me, I will go round to the window outside.  There is no one else up.”

“I will go with you,” Arnold said.

“If you please, sir,” the man replied.

They hurried out of the front door and around to the side of the house.  The lights were certainly burning in the room and the blind was half drawn up.  Arnold reached the window-sill with a spring and peered in.

“I can see nothing,” he said to Groves.  “There doesn’t seem to be any one in the room.”

“Can you get in, sir?” the man asked from below.  “The sash seems to be unfastened.”

Arnold tried it and found it yielded to his touch.  He pushed it up and vaulted lightly into the room.  Then he saw that a table was overturned and a key was lying on the floor.  He picked it up and fitted it into the door.  Fenella was waiting outside.

“I can see nothing here,” he announced, “but a table has been upset.”

She pointed to the sofa and gripped his arm.

“Look!” she cried.  “What is that?”

Arnold felt a thrill of horror, and for a moment the room swam before his eyes.  Then he saw clearly again.  From underneath the upholstery of the sofa, a man’s hand was visible stretching into the room almost as far as his elbow.  They both stared, Arnold stupefied with horror.  On the little finger of the hand was a ring with a blood-red seal!