In the silence of the night I could distinctly hear that someone was coming down the corridor.  It was a stealthy step, faint and intermittent, as of a man who paused cautiously after every stride.  Sometimes for half a minute there was no sound, and then came the shuffle and creak which told of a fresh advance.  My companion was trembling with excitement.  His hand, which still held my sleeve, twitched like a branch in the wind.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“It’s he!”

“Sir Thomas?”

“Yes.”

“What does he want?”

“Hush!  Do nothing until I tell you.”

I was conscious now that someone was trying the door.  There was the faintest little rattle from the handle, and then I dimly saw a thin slit of subdued light.  There was a lamp burning somewhere far down the passage, and it just sufficed to make the outside visible from the darkness of our room.  The greyish slit grew broader and broader, very gradually, very gently, and then outlined against it I saw the dark figure of a man.  He was squat and crouching, with the silhouette of a bulky and misshapen dwarf.  Slowly the door swung open with this ominous shape framed in the centre of it.  And then, in an instant, the crouching figure shot up, there was a tiger spring across the room and thud, thud, thud, came three tremendous blows from some heavy object upon the bed.

I was so paralysed with amazement that I stood motionless and staring until I was aroused by a yell for help from my companion.  The open door shed enough light for me to see the outline of things, and there was little Lord Linchmere with his arms round the neck of his brother-in-law, holding bravely on to him like a game bull-terrier with its teeth into a gaunt deerhound.  The tall, bony man dashed himself about, writhing round and round to get a grip upon his assailant; but the other, clutching on from behind, still kept his hold, though his shrill, frightened cries showed how unequal he felt the contest to be.  I sprang to the rescue, and the two of us managed to throw Sir Thomas to the ground, though he made his teeth meet in my shoulder.  With all my youth and weight and strength, it was a desperate struggle before we could master his frenzied struggles; but at last we secured his arms with the waist-cord of the dressing-gown which he was wearing.  I was holding his legs while Lord Linchmere was endeavouring to relight the lamp, when there came the pattering of many feet in the passage, and the butler and two footmen, who had been alarmed by the cries, rushed into the room.  With their aid we had no further difficulty in securing our prisoner, who lay foaming and glaring upon the ground.  One glance at his face was enough to prove that he was a dangerous maniac, while the short, heavy hammer which lay beside the bed showed how murderous had been his intentions.

“Do not use any violence!” said Lord Linchmere, as we raised the struggling man to his feet.  “He will have a period of stupor after this excitement.  I believe that it is coming on already.”  As he spoke the convulsions became less violent, and the madman’s head fell forward upon his breast, as if he were overcome by sleep.  We led him down the passage and stretched him upon his own bed, where he lay unconscious, breathing heavily.