put into his hand his double-barrelled gun, the first weapon she had found-unloaded, indeed, but even as a club formidable enough to give him confidence to unlock the door, and call to the man to give himself up. The servants huddled together like sheep, but there was no answer. He called for a light. It was put into his hand by Phoebe, and as he opened the door, was blown out by a stream of cold air from the open window.
The thief was gone. Everybody was ready to press in and look for him in every impossible place, but he had evidently escaped by the leads of the portico beneath; not, however, with 'my emeralds'-he had only attempted the lock of the jewel cabinet.
Phoebe hurried to see whether Maria had been frightened, and finding her happily asleep, followed the rest of the world down-stairs, where the servants seemed to be vying with each other in the magnitude of the losses they announced, while Mervyn was shouting himself hoarse with passionate orders that everything should be left alone- doors, windows, plate-chests, and all-for the inspection of the police; and human nature could not resist lifting up and displaying signs of the robbery every moment, in the midst of the storm of vituperation thus excited.
Mervyn could hardly attend to Phoebe's mention of the cart, but as soon as it reached his senses, he redoubled his hot commands to keepers and stablemen to set off in pursuit, and called for his horse to ride to Elverslope, to give information at the police station and telegraph office. Phoebe implored him to rest and send a messenger, but he roughly bade her not to be so absurd, commanded again that nothing should be disturbed, or, if she
'Grateful!' indignantly thought Miss Fennimore, as Phoebe was left leaning on a pillar in the portico, watching him ride away, the pale light of the yellow setting moon giving an almost ghostly appearance to her white drapery and wistful attitude. Putting an arm round her, the governess found her shivering from head to foot, and pale and cold as marble; her knees knocked together when she walked, and her teeth chattered as she strove to smile, but her quietness still showed itself in all her movements, as she returned into the hall, and reached the welcome support of a chair beside the rekindled fire.
Miss Fennimore chafed her hands, and she looked up, smiled, and said, 'Thank you.'
'Then you were frightened, after all, Phoebe,' cried Bertha, triumphantly.
'Was I?-I don't know,' said Phoebe, as in a dream.
'What, when you don't know what you are talking of, and are still trembling all over?'
'I can't tell. I think what came on me then was thankfulness.'
'I am sure we may be thankful that our jewels are the only things safe!'
'Oh! Bertha, you don't know, then, that the man was taking aim at Mervyn!' and the shudder returned.
'There, Phoebe, for the sake of candour and psychology, confess your terror.'
'Indeed, Bertha,' said Phoebe, with a smile on her tremulous lip, 'it is very odd, but I don't think I was afraid; there was a feeling of shadowing Wings that left no room for terror.'
'That enabled you to think and act?' asked Miss Fennimore.
'I didn't think; it came to me,' said Phoebe. 'Pray, let me go; Bertha dear, you had better go to bed. Pray lie down, Miss Fennimore.'
She moved slowly away, her steps still unsteady and her cheeks colourless, but the sweet light of thankfulness on her face; while Bertha said, in her moralizing tone, 'It is a curious study to see Phoebe taking her own steady nerves and power of resource for something external to herself, and being pious about it.'
Miss Fennimore was not gratified by her apt pupil's remark. 'If Phoebe's conduct do not fill you with reverence, both for her and that which actuates her, I can only stand astonished,' she said.
Bertha turned away, and erected her eyebrows.
No one could go to bed, and before five o'clock Phoebe came down, dressed for the day, and set to work with the butler and the inventory of the plate to draw up an account of the losses. Not merely the plate in common use was gone, but the costly services and ornaments that had been the glory of old Mr. Fulmort's heart; and the locks had not been broken but opened with a key; the drawing-rooms had been rifled of their expensive bijouterie, and the foray would have been completely successful had it included the jewels. There were no marks of a violent entrance; windows and doors were all fastened as usual, with the single exception of the back door, which was found ajar, but with no traces of having been opened in an unusual manner, though the heavy bolts and bars would have precluded an entrance from the outside even with a false key.
Early in the day, Mervyn returned with the superintendent of police. He was still too much excited to rest, and his heavy tread re-echoed from floor to floor, as he showed the superintendent round the house, calling his sister or the servants to corroborate his statements, or help out his account of what he had hardly seen or comprehended. Thus he came to Phoebe for her version of the affair in the gallery, of which he only knew his own share-the noise that had roused him, the sight of the burglar, the sudden darkness, the report of the pistol; and the witness of his danger-the bullet-was in the wall nearly where his head had been. When Phoebe had answered his questions, he gazed at her, and exclaimed-'Hallo! why, Phoebe, it seems that but for you, Parson Robert would be in possession here!' and burst into a strange nervous laugh, ending by coming to her and giving a hearty kiss to her forehead, ere hurrying away to report her evidence to the policeman.
When all measures had been taken, intelligence sent back to the station, and a search instituted in every direction, Mervyn consented to sit down to breakfast, but talked instead of eating, telling Phoebe that even without her recognition of James Smithson, the former footman, the superintendent would have attributed the burglary to a person familiar with the house, provided with facsimiles of all the keys, except those of the jewels, as well as sufficiently aware of the habits of the family to make the attempt just before the jewels were to be removed, and when the master was likely to be absent. The appearance of the back door had led to the conclusion that the thieves had been admitted from within; a London detective had therefore been sent for, who was to come in the guise of a clerk from the distillery, bringing down the books to Mr. Fulmort, and Phoebe was forbidden to reveal his true character to any one but Miss Fennimore. So virulently did Mervyn talk of Smithson, that Phoebe was sorry she had recognized him, and became first compassionate, then disconcerted and shocked. She rose to leave the room as the only means of silencing him; he got up to come after her, abusing the law because house-breaking was not a hanging matter, his face growing more purple with passion every moment; but his steps suddenly failed, his exclamation transferred his fury to his own giddiness, and Phoebe, flying to his side, was only just in time to support him to a couch. It was the worst attack he had yet had, and his doctors coming in the midst of it, used prompt measures to relieve him, and impressed on both him and his sister that everything would depend on perfect quiet and absence from all disturbance; and he was so much exhausted by the reaction of his excitement, loss of blood, and confusion of head, that he attempted little but long fretful sighs when at length he was left to her. After much weariness and discomfort he fell asleep, and Phoebe ventured to creep quietly out of the library to see Miss Charlecote, who was hearing the night's adventures in the schoolroom. Scarcely, however, had Honor had time to embrace the little heroine, whose conduct had lost nothing in Miss Fennimore's narration, when a message came from Elverslope. It was the day of the petty sessions, and a notable bad character having been taken up with some suspicious articles upon him, the magistrates were waiting for Mr. Fulmort to make out the committal on his evidence.
'I must go instead,' said Phoebe, after considering for a moment.
'My dear,' exclaimed Honor, 'you do not know how unpleasant it will be!'
'Mervyn must sleep,' said Phoebe; 'and if this be an innocent man, he ought to be cleared at once. If it be not improper, I think I ought to go. May I?' looking at the governess, who suggested her speaking to the superintendent, and learning whether her brother had been absolutely summoned.
It proved to be only a verbal message, and the superintendent urged her going, telling her that her evidence would suffice for the present, and that she would be the most important witness at the assizes-which he evidently considered as a great compliment.
Miss Charlecote undertook to go and take care of her young friend, and they set off in silence, Phoebe leaning back with her veil down, and Honor, perceiving that she needed this interval of quiet repose, watching her with wonder. Had it been Honor's own case, she would have hung back out of dislike to pursuing an enemy, and from dread of publicity, but these objections had apparently not occurred to the more simple mind, only devising how to spare her brother; and while Honor would have been wretched from distrust of her own accuracy, and her habits of imperfect observation would have made her doubt her own senses and memory, she honoured Phoebe's careful training in seeing what she saw, and hearing what she heard, without cross lights or counter sounds from imagination. Once Phoebe inquired in a low, awe-struck voice, 'Shall I be put on oath?'
'Most likely, my dear.'
