John was now confident that he knew the speaker.
“Hush!” whispered the elder man, fiercely, “this passage window ’ll do: it won’t take much to prise it open: you’ll look after the women.”
“Trust me for that,” muttered the other; and Randolph thought he heard a click, as of the cocking of a pistol.
“Hush, you fool!” growled the older burglar, with an oath: then there was a few moments’ silence, and the two crept back. They sat down under the shelter of some large shrubs, with their backs to John, who could only just make them out from his hiding-place, for it was now getting quite dark. A little while, and they rose, and passed very near their unsuspected watcher, who could just catch the words “Two o’clock,” as they made their way back to the fence. A few moments more, and they were clear of the grounds.
John Randolph’s mind was made up in a moment what to do. Having cautiously followed the two men into the road, and ascertained that they were not lurking anywhere about “The Shrubbery,” he hurried off at once to Hopeworth, and communicated what he had seen and heard to the police. He was very anxious that no unnecessary alarm should be given to Mrs Franklin or Mary, and that they should be kept, if possible, in ignorance of the whole matter till the danger was over; so he resolved to accompany the constables, who, with the superintendent, were preparing to encounter the housebreakers. It was presumed, from what he had overheard, that an attempt was to be made on “The Shrubbery” that very night, and that the two men seen by John Randolph were only part of a larger gang. Help was therefore procured, and about one o’clock a party of a dozen, including John, all disguised in labourers’ clothes, had noiselessly scaled the fence in different parts by two and two, and, recognising one another by a password previously agreed upon, were soon clustered together under some dense shrubs not far from the passage window before mentioned. It was a tranquil morning, but very cloudy. All was deep stillness in the house. Little did Mrs Franklin and her daughter think, as they read together before parting for the night those comforting words, “The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them,” that such foes and such protectors were so close at hand. But they laid them down in perfect peace, and their heavenly Father’s loving power was as a wall of fire about them. Patiently did the watchers listen from their hiding-place to every sound. Two o’clock, at last, rang out clear from the great timepiece on the stairs; they could hear it distinctly outside. What was that sound? Only the distant barking of a fox. But now there are other sounds. One, two, three, at length six men in all have crept to the part of the yard opposite the back door. All paused and looked carefully round: everything seemed safe.
“Well,” said one who appeared to be a leader, “it does not seem as if we need be over particular: there’s neither dog nor man about, and the women won’t do much. Where’s the crowbar?”
“Here.”
Just at this moment a bright ray of light flashed out along the passage, and a female figure could be seen crossing the landing. The housebreakers shrunk back.
“It will not do,” said the leader, half aloud; “they’ve got scent of us somehow: pr’aps they’ve some men inside to help them, we’d better be off.”
“Fools! Cowards!” exclaimed a younger man, in a fierce whisper, as the others began to slink away; “are you afraid of a parcel of women? But I’ll not be baffled: she’s there:” and he raised a pistol, and pointed it towards the figure which had descended close to the passage window with the light in her hand, and was trying to peer into the darkness outside. His companion pulled down his arm with a savage imprecation. All was still for a few minutes, and the female retired to the landing and then disappeared. The burglars hesitated, when, just at the moment of their indecision, one of the police imitated the low growling of a dog close at hand. Instantly the whole gang took to their heels, closely followed by the constables. No shout had been raised, no word had been spoken, for John Randolph had been most anxious that the thieves should be captured without alarming the ladies. And now in the darkness, pursuers and pursued were scattered in different directions. John sprang after the young man who had raised the pistol, and succeeded in grappling with him before he could mount the fence. The clouds were now dispersed, and there was light enough for one to recognise another. Randolph could not doubt; the intended murderer was Mark Rothwell. Fiercely did the two young men strive together, and at last both fell, Mark undermost; and, relaxing