“Now, do you know what I’m going to do?” he asked, with an air of roughness and brutality that was a little overdone.  He put the revolver and the rope down on the bed, the revolver quite close to her.

“I’m going,” he continued, “to tie you up to one of those chairs.  I can’t risk your playing any tricks or giving an alarm, perhaps, while I’m searching the house.  I shall take what’s worth having, and then I shall clear off, and if your stepfather’s coming home tonight you won’t have to wait long till he releases you, and if he don’t come I can’t help it.”

He turned his back to her as he spoke and took hold of one of the chairs in the room, and then of another and looked at them as though carefully considering which would be the best to use for the carrying out of his threat.

He appeared to find it difficult to decide, for he kept his back turned to her for two or three minutes, during all of which time the revolver lay on the bed quite close to her hand.

He listened intently for he fully expected her to snatch it up, and he wished to be ready to turn before she could actually fire.  But, indeed, nothing was further from her thoughts, for she did not know in the least how to use the weapon or even how to fire it off, and the very thought of employing it to kill any one would have terrified her far more even than had done her experiences of this night.

So the pistol lay untouched by her side, while, very pale and trembling a little, she waited what he would do, and on his side he felt as much puzzled by her failure to use the opportunity he had put in her way as she was puzzled by his neglect to seize her jewellery lying ready to his hand.

He was still hesitating, still appearing unable to decide which chair to employ in carrying out his proclaimed purpose of fastening her up when she asked a question that made him swing round upon her very quickly and with a very startled look.

“Are you a real burglar?” she said.

CHAPTER VI

A DISCOVERY

“What do you mean?” Dunn asked quickly.  The matted growth of hair on his face served well to hide any change of expression, but his eyes betrayed him with their look of surprise and discomfiture, and in her own clear and steady glance appeared now a kind of puzzled mockery as if she understood well that all he did was done for some purpose, though what that purpose was still perplexed her.

“I mean,” she said slowly, “well—­what do I mean?  I am only asking a question.  Are you a burglar—­or have you come here for some other reason?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he grumbled.  “Think I’m here for fun?  Not me.  Come and sit on this chair and put your hands behind you and don’t make a noise, or scream, or anything, not if you value your life.”

“I don’t know that I do very much,” she answered with a manner of extreme bitterness, but more as if speaking to herself than to him.