Nothing, he thought.

And he was still laughing at Faustina's weakness as he stood with his back to the fire, when once more the door opened and old Cuthbert reappeared, wearing a frightened countenance and followed by two policemen.

Faustina shrieked with terror, covered her face with her hands, and shrunk back in her chair. Mrs. MacDonald, aroused by the shriek from her real or feigned sleep, opened her eyes and stared.

But Lord Vincent, astonished and indignant, strode towards the door and demanded of his old servant:

"What means this intrusion, sir? Did I not order you to say to these persons that I would not see them to-night? How dare you bring them to this room?"

"'Deed, me laird, I could na help it! When I gi'e them yer lairdship's message they e'en just bid me gang before, and sae they followed me up, pushing me to the right and left at their ain will,"

said Cuthbert sullenly.

Lord Vincent turned to the intruders and haughtily demanded:

"What is the meaning of this conduct, fellows? Were you not told that I would not see you to-night? How dare you push yourselves up into the private apartment of these ladies? Leave the room and the house instantly."

"We will leave the room and the house, my lord; but, when we do so, you and that lady must go with us," said the taller of the two policemen, advancing into the room.

"What?" demanded the viscount.

"Mon Dieu!" shrieked Faustina.

"Gracious, goodness, me, alive!" exclaimed Mrs. MacDonald.

"You are wanted," answered the policeman, whose name by the way was McRae.

"What do you mean, fellow? Leave the room, I say, before I order my servant to kick you out!" fiercely cried the viscount.

The policeman immediately stepped up to the side of his lordship and laid his hand upon his shoulder, saying:

"Malcolm Dugald, Lord Vincent, you are my prisoner."

"Your prisoner, you scoundrel! hands off, I say!" cried the viscount.

"I arrest you in the Queen's name, for the abduction and selling into slavery of the three negroes, Catherine Mortimer, James Mortimer, and Sarah Sims," said McRae, taking a firmer hold of his captive.

"Let go my collar, you infernal villain, and show me your warrant!"

thundered Lord Vincent, wrenching himself from the grasp of the policeman.

McRae calmly produced his warrant and placed it in the hands of the viscount.

Lord Vincent, astonished, terrified, but defiant, held the document up before his dazed eyes and tried to read it. But though he held it up with both hands close to his blanched face, it trembled so in his grasp that he could not trace the characters written upon it.

While he held it thus, McRae slyly drew something from his own pocket, approached the viscount and--click! click--the handcuffs were fastened upon the wrists of his lordship!

Down fluttered the warrant from the relaxed fingers of the viscount, while his face, exposed to view, seemed set in a deadly panic as he gazed upon his captor.

"Look to him, Ross," said McRae, addressing his comrade and pointing to the viscount.

Then he stepped up to the cowering form of Mrs. Dugald, who had shrunk to the very back of her deep velvet chair. Laying his hand upon her shoulder he said:

"Faustina Dugald, you are my prisoner. I arrest you, in the Queen's name, upon the charge of having aided and abetted Lord Vincent in the abduction of--"

"Oh, horror! let me go, you horrid brute!" cried Faustina, suddenly finding her voice, interrupting the officer with her shrieks and springing from under his hand.

She rushed towards the passage door with the blind impulse of flight and tore it open, only to find herself stopped by a posse of constables drawn up without. They had come in force strong enough to overcome resistance, if necessary.

"Give yourself up, Faustina. It is the best thing you can do," said the viscount.

She stared wildly like a hunted hare, and then turned and made a dash towards her bedroom door, but only to be caught in the arms of McRae, who stepped suddenly thither to intercept her mad flight.

He held her firmly with one hand, while with the other he drew something from his pocket and suddenly snapped the handcuffs upon her wrists.

She burst into passionate tears.

"I am sorry to do this, madam, but you forced me to it," said McRae gravely and kindly.

She was a pitiable object as she stood there, guilty, degraded, and powerless. Her wreath of lilies had been knocked off and trampled under foot in the scuffle. The bouquet of lilies that rested on her bosom was crushed. Her lace and swan's-down trimmings were torn. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her eyes streaming with tears.

"Why do they make me a prisoner?" she sobbed.

"I told you, madam, it was for your share in the abduction of--"

"Abduction! abduction! I don't know what you mean by abduction! I did not kill the black negro person! I did not put her into the sea!

It was Lord Vincent! I never helped him! No, not at all! He would not let me! And if he would, I should not have done it! He did it all himself! And it is cruel to make a poor, small, little woman suffer for what a big man does!" she cried, amid piteous tears and sobs.

"Faustina! Faustina! what are you saying?" exclaimed the viscount, in consternation.

"The truth, my lord viscount; you know it! The truth, messieurs, I assure you! Lord Vincent killed the black negro woman and threw her into the sea! And I had nothing to do with, it! I did not even know it until all was over! And I will tell you all about it, messieurs, if you will only take these dreadful things off my poor, little, small wrists and let me go! It is cruel, messieurs, to fetter and imprison a poor, small little woman, for a big man's crime! Let me go free, messieurs, and I will tell you all about him," pleaded this weeping creature, who for the sake of her own liberty was willing to give her lover up to death.

But you need not be surprised at this; for I told you long ago that there can be no honor, faith, or love among thieves, let the biographers of the Jack Shepherds and Nancy Sykeses say what they please to the contrary. "Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?" The criminal is the most solitary creature upon earth; he has no ties--for the ties of guilt are nothing; they snap at the lightest breath of self-interest.

Faustina's plea dismayed her accomplice and disgusted her captor.

"Madam," said the latter, "you had better hold your peace. Your words criminate yourself as well as Lord Vincent."

"How do they criminate myself? Oh, mon Dieu! what shall I do, since even my denials are made to tell against me!" she whimpered, wringing her hands.

"Faustina, be silent!" said the viscount sternly.

"My lord, we are ready to remove you," said McRae, advancing toward the viscount.

"Where do you intend to take us then?" demanded the viscount, with a blush of shame, though with a tone of defiance.

"To the police station house, for the night. In the morning you will be brought before the magistrate for examination."

"To your beast of a station house?" said the viscount.