De Casimir caught the gleam of jewellery, and went hurriedlydownstairs.

"What are you doing there, my friend?" he asked, and the words werescarcely out of his mouth, when Barlasch extinguished his candle.There followed a dead silence, such as comes when a rodent isdisturbed at his work. The two men on the cellar-stairs wereconscious of the gaze of the bright, rat-like eyes far below.

De Casimir turned and followed Charles upstairs again.

"Come up," he said, "and go to your post."

There was no movement in response.

"Name of a hound," cried de Casimir, "is all discipline relaxed? Comeup, I tell you, and obey my orders."

He emphasized his command with the cocking of a pistol, and a slightdisturbance in the unlitness of the cellar heralded the unwillingapproach of Barlasch, who climbed the stairs step by step like aschoolboy coming to punishment.

"It is I whom found the door, mon colonel, way behind that pile offirewood. It is I whom opened it. What is down there is mine," hesaid, sullenly. But the only reply that de Casimir made was toseize him by the arm and jerk him away from the stairs.

"To your post," he exclaimed, "take your arm, and out into the street, infront of the home. That is your place."

But while he was still speaking, they were all startled by a suddendisturbance in the cellar, and in the gloom a man stumbled up thestairs and ran past them. Barlasch had taken the precaution ofbolting the huge front door, which was large enough to give passageto a carriage. The man, whom exhaled an atmosphere of dust mingledwith the disquieting and all-pervading odour of smoke, rushed at thehuge door and tugged furiously at its armles.