cursor of the attacks, and which on more than one occasion had led the unfortunate gentleman to wander about the park and grounds in the dead of the night. On the party proceeding towards the crimson drawing room, the butler produced a key to open the great folding doors at the end of the gallery; but observing the small door in the thickness of the wall already open, he eagerly examined the bunch of keys which he carried, and to which he still found depending those which opened both the great folding doors, and the smaller one at the side of the gallery. A blank surprise appeared in the old man's countenance, and he inquired of Aubrey whether it was in the gallery or within the crimson drawing room that he had found Mr. Musgrave. On Aubrey's replying that it was within the room, the butler examined the lock to ascertain if the entrance to those rooms had been made by violence; but it had been fairly opened by means of a key, which key however was now withdrawn from the lock; and approaching Aubrey as they entered the rooms, the old servant said, in a low tone, "Really, sir, there is more in this matter than I can understand; the devil himself must have been playing his cantrips here to-night, for the keys of these rooms are always in my keeping, and I know that Mr. Musgrave has not duplicates of any of them, since, when he visits these rooms, which it is sometimes his fancy to do, he always sends for me to bring the keys; and I made up my mind, when I was called up and told that you had seen a thief in the chambers at the end of the west gallery, I made up my mind that the doors had been forced!"

No

Aubrey of course could afford no clue to this mystery; and the party pursued their investigation of the rooms. trace, however, of any person was discovered there, and various

articles of value which they contained remained untouched. On reaching the foot of the staircase, where Aubrey had lost sight of the person whom he had tracked through the rooms, the oaken wainscot was found splintered by the bullet which had been fired at him. At the foot of this staircase, however, the servants, with the exception of old Thomson, the butler, stopped, and refused to go a step further. This very staircase, and the apartments above, Aubrey thought it most necessary to explore, and he would have been the first person to ascend it, but that Mr. Benedict, with another display of that rudeness of manner which he had exhibited on first hearing Aubrey's account of his adventure in the deserted rooms, pushed almost roughly past him, crying in a jibing tone, "I really cannot suffer the sword to take entire precedence of the long robe in this important investigation, wherein it appears to me a lawyer's sharp apprehension may be of as much avail as a soldier's courage; and see, the fox has left his trail; it appears, Mr. Conyers, that you fired with military accuracy!" As he spoke, Mr. Benedict lowered the taper which he carried, and pointed out to the company some large spots of blood that were still fresh and wet upon the oaken stairs. There was, however, something almost ghastly in the smile with which he accompanied his sneering words, and as the light of the taper flashed full upon his features as he stooped, Aubrey noticed that they were ashy pale, and that large drops of perspiration stood upon his brow.

These blood marks which Mr. Benedict pointed out increased the terror of the servants, and as they still marked every stair on the ascent, even Aubrey spoke of the necessity of caution in mounting them, as it was probable the burglar or his companions, if he had any, might still be lurking in

some dark corner, or on the landing-place above. Mr. Benedict, however, still persisted in leading the party, and, with an air of reckless indifference, mounted the stairs so quickly, that he was the first to enter the small room at the top. This was a kind of turret chamber, of octagonal form, and having windows which on all sides commanded a charming view of the surrounding country. For this reason it had been elegantly fitted up by Richard Musgrave, and used as a kind of boudoir or work-room by Lady Geraldine. It would have made Ellinor sad to enter that room, so many mute remembrances of her mother were scattered around. On a beautiful table of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl, lay an unfinished drawing, and an ivory box containing pencils and water colours. In one corner stood a harp, mute, like the voice whose tones had once been full and sweet as those of the sounding strings it had accompanied those strings which now trailed in mournful broken fragments on the ground. The hangings of this room were of Chinese silk, of a delicate straw colour, with figures of birds and flowers printed on it in hues the lustre of which time itself had not faded. The carpet, which was thick and soft, had been chosen as far as possible to correspond with the hangings, and upon its pale groundwork there were stains of fresh blood larger than those upon the stairs.. Aubrey and his companions gazed anxiously round for the outlet by which the wounded person had escaped, for this chamber was at the top of the little turret, and had no story above it, as indeed, before ascending the stairs, they had been informed by old Thomson. The track of blood swept across the turret chamber, and was sprinkled even to the verge of the hangings opposite the door, but certainly there was no mode of egress from that point. Aubrey, however, was about to sound the wall, when Mr.