“But we don’t know who it is.”

“Well, I suppose you are not afraid of them, in any case,” said Agatha, knowing the contrary, but recognizing the convenience of shaming Gertrude into silence.

They listened again.  The storm was now very boisterous, and they could not hear the bell.  Suddenly there was a loud knocking at the house door.  Gertrude screamed, and her cry was echoed from the rooms above, where several girls had heard the knocking also, and had been driven by it into the state of mind which accompanies the climax of a nightmare.  Then a candle flickered on the stairs, and Miss Wilson’s voice, reassuringly firm, was heard.

“Who is that?”

“It is I, Miss Wilson, and Gertrude.  We have been watching the storm, and there is some one knocking at the—­” A tremendous battery with the knocker, followed by a sound, confused by the gale, as of a man shouting, interrupted her.

“They had better not open the door,” said Miss Wilson, in some alarm.  “You are very imprudent, Agatha, to stand here.  You will catch your death of—­Dear me!  What can be the matter?  She hurried down, followed by Agatha, Gertrude, and some of the braver students, to the hall, where they found a few shivering servants watching the housekeeper, who was at the keyhole of the house door, querulously asking who was there.  She was evidently not heard by those without, for the knocking recommenced whilst she was speaking, and she recoiled as if she had received a blow on the mouth.  Miss Wilson then rattled the chain to attract attention, and demanded again who was there.

“Let us in,” was returned in a hollow shout through the keyhole.  “There is a dying woman and three children here.  Open the door.”

Miss Wilson lost her presence of mind.  To gain time, she replied, “I—­I can’t hear you.  What do you say?”

“Damnation!” said the voice, speaking this time to some one outside.  “They can’t hear.”  And the knocking recommenced with increased urgency.  Agatha, excited, caught Miss Wilson’s dressing gown, and repeated to her what the voice had said.  Miss Wilson had heard distinctly enough, and she felt, without knowing clearly why, that the door must be opened, but she was almost over-mastered by a vague dread of what was to follow.  She began to undo the chain, and Agatha helped with the bolts.  Two of the servants exclaimed that they were all about to be murdered in their beds, and ran away.  A few of the students seemed inclined to follow their example.  At last the door, loosed, was blown wide open, flinging Miss Wilson and Agatha back, and admitting a whirlwind that tore round the hall, snatched at the women’s draperies, and blew out the lights.  Agatha, by a hash of lightning, saw for an instant two men straining at the door like sailors at a capstan.  Then she knew by the cessation of the whirlwind that they had shut it.  Matches were struck, the candles relighted, and the newcomers clearly perceived.