Money and jewelry went noiselessly back, the lantern was turned with a rapid flash on Miss Gastonguay, the handkerchief was lifted from her face, and they were just about to beat a retreat from the room, when Derrice threw herself on them and inflicted a smart blow with the candlestick on the head of the one nearest her.
Prepared for all contingencies, the one attacked threw a somewhat comical glance at his associate. Old people slept lightly. They had not thought of drugging this young healthy person, indeed they had not planned to enter her room, and, calmly putting her aside, they vanished into the hall.
Derrice turned her attention to Miss Gastonguay, who was sitting up in bed, stupidly ejaculating, "What—what's all this? Is that your husband, Derrice Mercer? Who's pounding below?"
"No, no," shrieked the girl, "it is the pony. They have put out their lantern. They are thieves and robbers; come, let us try to catch them,—I cannot leave you," and she half dragged, half conducted her bewildered friend to the hall.
There a curious scene was taking place. Chelda, who slept with one ear open in a cat-like fashion, had heard Derrice's first cry, and, leaping from her bed, had run to the head of the staircase, where she now stood with a revolver, calmly popping away at a confused jumble in the hall below, consisting of two men and a mass of something white.
"Stop, stop, Chelda," cried Derrice, "the pony has come in!"
The Fairy Prince had indeed, in his anxiety about the strangers who had been gliding around the house, mounted the front steps and pushed open the hall door, whose bolt the strangers had shot back to provide for speedy escape if necessary. The Fairy Prince had entered upon a tour of discovery through the hall, and, not finding them, had ended by placing his fat body immediately at the foot of the staircase.
One of the men had slipped in his rapid descent, and had inflicted some injury upon himself, for his companion with many oaths was adjuring him to come on, and, finding he could not, promptly snatched at the pony's forelock, forced him aside, and rushed away.
"Come, girls,—we've got one of them," cried Miss Gastonguay, triumphantly. "Chelda, put up that revolver. You don't want to shoot a man in the back,—give it to me. You young villain, if you move I'll shoot you dead!" and valiantly charging down the staircase with Derrice in close attendance, she hurled herself on the suddenly crippled man, who stood holding to the polished railing.
He had twisted his foot, and at her words he made a last desperate attempt to get away, but fell headlong, whereupon Miss Gastonguay promptly placed a hall chair on his back.