“Four villains, with Berks at their head, got the start of us by several hours.  It was Warr who told me.”

“What Bill Warr says is straight, and what Joe Berks does is crooked.  Who were the others, sir?”

“Red Ike, Fighting Yussef, and Chris McCarthy.”

“A pretty gang, too!  Well, sir, the lad is safe, but it would be as well, perhaps, for one or other of us to stay in his room with him.  For my own part, as long as he’s my charge I’m never very far away.”

“It is a pity to wake him.”

“He can hardly be asleep with all this racket in the house.  This way, sir, and down the passage!”

We passed along the low-roofed, devious corridors of the old-fashioned inn to the back of the house.

“This is my room, sir,” said Belcher, nodding to a door upon the right.  “This one upon the left is his.”  He threw it open as he spoke.  “Here’s Sir Charles Tregellis come to see you, Jim,” said he; and then, “Good Lord, what is the meaning of this?”

The little chamber lay before us brightly illuminated by a brass lamp which stood upon the table.  The bedclothes had not been turned down, but there was an indentation upon the counterpane which showed that some one had lain there.  One-half of the lattice window was swinging on its hinge, and a cloth cap lying upon the table was the only sign of the occupant.  My uncle looked round him and shook his head.

“It seems that we are too late,” said he.

“That’s his cap, sir.  Where in the world can he have gone to with his head bare?  I thought he was safe in his bed an hour ago.  Jim!  Jim!” he shouted.

“He has certainly gone through the window,” cried my uncle.  “I believe these villains have enticed him out by some devilish device of their own.  Hold the lamp, nephew.  Ha!  I thought so.  Here are his footmarks upon the flower-bed outside.”

The landlord, and one or two of the Corinthians from the bar-parlour, had followed us to the back of the house.  Some one had opened the side door, and we found ourselves in the kitchen garden, where, clustering upon the gravel path, we were able to hold the lamp over the soft, newly turned earth which lay between us and the window.

“That’s his footmark!” said Belcher.  “He wore his running boots this evening, and you can see the nails.  But what’s this?  Some one else has been here.”

“A woman!” I cried.

“By Heaven, you’re right, nephew,” said my uncle.

Belcher gave a hearty curse.

“He never had a word to say to any girl in the village.  I took partic’lar notice of that.  And to think of them coming in like this at the last moment!”

“It’s clear as possible, Tregellis,” said the Hon. Berkeley Craven, who was one of the company from the bar-parlour.  “Whoever it was came outside the window and tapped.  You see here, and here, the small feet have their toes to the house, while the others are all leading away.  She came to summon him, and he followed her.”