Egerton.
'Twill soon be morning.
Harvey Anderson.
Yes, you'd better leave
Before the land wakes up.
(The detectives, with Anderson between them, go out)
Egerton.
We'll see, my man—
(Puts the key on the outside of the door)
How you'll shake down the pillars of this land.
(He goes out and locks the door after him. A few moments pass. Suddenly at some distance outside a shot is heard. Again a few moments pass. Then, with a crash, the door is broken in and Buck Bentley, with the will in his hand, pulls himself hurriedly through the hole. He staggers to the table and seizes the bugle and blows a loud blast, then reels and, trying to steady himself, falls dead upon the floor, taking the table down with him. There is a clattering of the ore samples and a breaking of glass, and the lamp goes out, leaving the room in darkness. A half mile or so away, in the direction of Foreston, a bugle is heard, then, farther away, another, and fainter, another, and still another. And out through the window in the starlight of the Christmas morning soldiers with rifles in their hands are seen running rear left through the snow)