First came the dining-room, and next it the room in which Eustace and Peter slept. Round the corner were Mrs. Orban's room and part of the drawing-room. At the other corner was Nesta's room, where Miss Chase would also sleep, and next to that the servants' room.

The strange visitor made a complete tour of the veranda and reached the stair again.

Eustace was dreaming vividly. He was out with Nesta and Becky.

Becky had been specially entrusted to their care, and they had been told only to go a little way into the scrub. As a rule the children were not allowed to go into the scrub without a grown-up in charge, for there were dangers among the thick bushy undergrowth known by this odd name. For one thing, snakes abounded there; for another, it was only too easy to lose one's bearings, wander farther and farther into the wood, and eventually die of thirst and starvation, utterly unable to find the way home again. To Eustace's distraction, in his dream Becky would insist on playing hide-and-seek, and kept constantly disappearing and returning, flitting on in front of them now and again like a will-o'-the-wisp.

"We mustn't let her do it," Eustace exclaimed. "Run, Nesta; we must catch her."

But the faster they ran, the farther Becky went; it was extraordinary how fast she could go.

"I can't keep up," Nesta panted.

"Just like a girl," puffed Eustace back, for he was getting exhausted himself.

Then Becky disappeared right out of sight, and though Eustace called her till the echoes rang again and again with her name, there came no answer.

"Now I guess we shall all be lost," thought Eustace desperately.

He was rushing madly hither and thither, when suddenly he heard a blood-curdling yell not very far off. It was followed by another and another, till his heart stood still with terror.

"Of course," he said, pulling himself together with all his might, "she must be in the secret chamber. I never thought of that."

But even as the notion flashed into his mind he knew how silly it was to think of a secret chamber in the Bush. He was so paralyzed by the awfulness of the sounds that for a moment he could not move; but at last, with a mighty effort, he forced himself to dart forward in the direction whence the cries came.

A second later he was fighting blindly with some thing that clung unpleasantly to him. It took him a moment to realize that this was the mosquito net round his bed. He was out on the floor in his own room at home. He had been dreaming, and was now awake; but the screams continued, and were most horribly real. It was not Becky's voice--no child could have cried like that.

There was a door from his room into Mrs. Orban's, and through this the boy dashed.

"Mother, mother," he cried, "what is happening?"

There was a light in the room. Mrs. Orban was standing with a look of terror on her face.

"I don't know," she said unsteadily.

"It has been going on for ages," Eustace whispered.

But Mrs. Orban shook her head. "It has only just begun," she said.

"I must go and see what is the matter."

Eustace was haunted by his dream--a second in a dream is equivalent to hours of real life.

"O mother, don't go!" he exclaimed in an agonized voice, and clung to her.

"I must," was the answer, and gently but firmly Mrs. Orban put the boy from her. "Perhaps one of the servants is ill. At least they are both frightened, and need me. Stay here with Becky."

The words were hardly out of her mouth when the door burst open, and in rushed Mary, followed by Kate. Both girls looked half mad with fear.

"O ma'am, ma'am," they cried, piecing out the tale between them, "there was a black-fellow in our room. He has stolen our watches from under our pillows, and everything he could find before we woke, and he was pulling the rings off Mary's finger when she felt him and jumped out of bed. But he got the rings, and we don't know where he is--somewhere about the house--and maybe there are others with him. O ma'am, whatever shall we do? We shall all be murdered in our beds."

"Nonsense, you silly girls," said Mrs. Orban, with sudden sternness; "we can't possibly be murdered in our beds when we are all out of them."

Even in the stress of the moment Eustace could not help being struck by the humour of the a.s.sertion, but he was in no mood for laughing.

Creeping to the window, he peered out, to find that it was no longer pitch dark; there was a sufficient glimmer of light to have enabled their uninvited guest to do all that the servants described.

By this time Becky was awake and howling. Her mother took her into her arms and soothed her gently.

"As to what we shall do," Mrs. Orban said in that same firm tone; "we must all stay here till daylight together. If there are thieves about the house, we can do nothing to check them. They will not hurt us if we don't interfere. There is nothing to be done but to behave as little like cowards as we can manage."

"But black-fellows do such--" began Kate.

"Hold your tongue, Kate," said the usually gentle Mrs. Orban, with sudden anger. "What good can it do to scare yourself and us by talking in such a way? We are in G.o.d's hands, don't forget that."

"Mother," Eustace said, "has father got his revolver away with him?"

"There are two in this room," Mrs. Orban replied. "Could you use one if necessary?"

"Oh, for mercy's sake don't let Master Eustace have a gun in his hands!" said Mary. "There's no saying which of us he might shoot in mistake if he began playing with one."

"Playing with one!" repeated Eustace scornfully; "why, father says my shooting is very good for my age."

Mrs. Orban took a revolver from a cupboard and gave it into the boy's hands.

"It is loaded," she said, and now there was the suspicion of a quiver in her voice; "but realize I am trusting you to be sensible.

Don't shoot at random. Remember what Bob said last night. You are only to fire if terribly necessary. Now jump into Becky's bed, or you will be getting a chill and fever."

From beneath her own pillow she drew out a second revolver, examined it, and set it on a table within easy reach.

"Mother," said Eustace in surprise, "do you always sleep with a revolver under your pillow?"

"Only when your father is away," was the reply. "Now, Mary and Kate, get into my bed. I am going to sit in this cosy chair with Miss Becky. We will talk and keep the light burning; but it is my belief nothing more will happen to-night."

The maids obeyed, still looking terrified, and then Mrs. Orban seated herself, with Becky in her arms, near the table where the revolver lay.

Thus they prepared to face the remaining hour of darkness, powerless to do anything, utterly helpless, with nerves strung to the highest possible pitch, and hearts that beat wildly at every sound.

CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST SHOT.

Mrs. Orban's words were brave, her whole bearing courageous, but she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life before.

It is doubtful whether she really believed her own a.s.sertion that nothing more would happen that night, though she tried to. As a matter of fact her prophecy was correct. Scared by the screams of the women, the unpleasant guest must have promptly run away. He was probably alone, and, uncertain as to who was in the house, had fled from the chance of being peppered by a revolver.

It was found in the morning that nothing was missing except the servants' watches, their few small trinkets that were lying on the dressing-table, and Mary's rings. The extraordinary silence with which he had perpetrated the theft, his skill in taking the rings off Mary's hand as it lay outside the coverlet, were not at all unprecedented--the natives were known to be silent and subtle as snakes in their doings.