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 climb along a slanting gutter-pipe formed a royal road to the roof of the main building.

The discovery, interesting in itself, was doubly so from the deduction to be made therefrom. The men who had climbed the roof would have been caught like rats in a trap if the Duke had raised the alarm, and they must either have had complete confidence in their ability to kill him by the charcoal fumes, or, in the event of a hitch, in the Duke’s unwillingness to rouse the household.

“Egad! but they must have a nasty grip on him, to trust to his not squealing under such provocation,” the General murmured, as the sound of wheels drew him at last from the ageworn buttress back to the portico. “If he’s turned up all right I’ll try and persuade him to confide the secret before we go to bed.”

But when the brougham stopped, it disgorged no Duke, but only Alec Forsyth, pale of face, and for once in his life half afraid of meeting his uncle’s expectant eye. But he kept his presence of mind sufficiently to control his voice as he informed the General—the information being really for the servants who had appeared at the hall door—that his Grace had not arrived. In silence the General led