“What is wrong?” he asked, in haste.

“It’s mother,—­her room,—­and it’s locked, and she won’t answer,” was the gasping reply.

Armitage sprang to the rear of the hall, leaned one second against the opposite wall, sent his foot with mighty impulse and muscled impact against the opposing lock, and the door flew open with a crash.  The next instant Alice was bending over her senseless mother, and the captain was giving a hand in much bewilderment to the panting colonel, who was striving to clamber in at the window.  The ministrations of Aunt Grace and Alice were speedily sufficient to restore Mrs. Maynard.  A teaspoonful of brandy administered by the colonel’s trembling hand helped matters materially.  Then he turned to Armitage.

“Come outside,” he said.

Once again in the moonlight the two men faced each other.

“Armitage, can you get a horse?”

“Certainly.  What then?”

“Go to the station, get men, if possible, and head this fellow off.  He was here again to-night, and it was not Alice he called, but my—­but Mrs. Maynard.  I saw him; I grappled with him right here at the bay-window where she met him, and he hurled me to grass as though I’d been a child. I want a horse!  I want that man to-night.  How did he get away from Sibley?”

“Do you mean—­do you think it was Jerrold?”

“Good God, yes!  Who else could it be?  Disguised, of course, and bearded; but the figure, the carriage, were just the same, and he came to this window,—­to her window,—­and called, and she answered.  My God, Armitage, think of it!”

“Come with me, colonel.  You are all unstrung,” was the captain’s answer as he led his broken friend away.  At the front door he stopped one moment, then ran up the steps and into the hall, where he tapped lightly at the casement.

“What is it?” was the low response from an invisible source.

“Miss Alice?”

“Yes.”

“The watchman is here now.  I will send him around to the window to keep guard until our return.  The colonel is a little upset by the shock, and I want to attend to him.  We are going to the hotel a moment before I bring him home.  You are not afraid to have him leave you?”

“Not now, captain.”

“Is Mrs. Maynard better?”

“Yes.  She hardly seems to know what has happened.  Indeed, none of us do.  What was it?”

“A tramp, looking for something to eat, tried to open the blinds, and the colonel was out here and made a jump at him.  They had a scuffle in the shrubbery, and the tramp got away.  It frightened your mother:  that’s the sum of it, I think.”

“Is papa hurt?”

“No:  a little bruised and shaken, and mad as a hornet.  I think perhaps I’ll get him quieted down and sleepy in a few minutes, if you and Mrs. Maynard will be content to let him stay with me.  I can talk almost any man drowsy.”