"What--why--how many villains are there?" replied the Squire, who between amazement and wrath was scarcely able to appreciate the situation.
"There was a man in the library; he did not come down the ladder; he may be still in the house."
"The deuce he is! Desmond, take the pistol, and shoot the knave like a dog if you meet him."
"I'll guard the door, Sir Willoughby. They are bringing the other man round. Then we'll all go into the house and search. He can't get out without being seen if the other doors are locked."
"Locked and barred. I did it myself an hour ago. I'll hang the villain."
In a few moments the servants came up with their captive and the box, old Dickon following. Only their figures could be seen: it was too dark to distinguish features.
"You scoundrel!" cried the Squire, brandishing his stick. "You'll hang for this. Take him into the house. In with you all. You scoundrel!"
"An you please, Sir Willoughby, 'tis----" began one of the servants.
"In with you, I say," roared the Squire. "I'll know how to deal with the villain."
The culprit was hustled into the house, and the group followed, Sir Willoughby bringing up the rear. Inside he barred and locked the door, and bade the men carry their prisoner to the library. The corridors and staircase were dark; but by the time the Squire had mounted on his gouty legs candles had been lighted, and the face of the housebreaker was for the first time visible. Two servants held the man; the others, with Desmond and Dickon, looked on in amazement.