The library itself was dark, but there
was still a dull glow in the next room. At the foot of the ladder stood a
man.
The meaning of it all was plain. The large sum of money recently received
by Sir Willoughby as rents had tempted someone to rob him. The robber
must have learned that the money was kept in the strong room; and it
argued either considerable daring or great ignorance to have timed his
visit for an hour when anyone familiar with the squire's habits would
have known that he would not yet have retired to rest.
Desmond was about to run round to the other side of the house and rouse
the squire, when the dim light in the strong room was suddenly
extinguished. Apparently the confederate of the man below had secured his
booty and was preparing to return. Desmond remained fixed to the spot, in
some doubt what to do. He might call to Dickon and make a rush on the man
before him, but the laborer was old and feeble, and the criminal was no
doubt armed. A disturber would probably be shot, and though the shot
would alarm the household, the burglars would have time to escape in the
darkness. Save Sir Willoughby himself, doubtless every person in the
house was by this time abed and asleep.
It seemed best to Desmond to send Dickon for help while he himself still
mounted guard. Creeping silently as a cat along the shrubbery, he
hastened back to the laborer, told him in a hurried whisper of his
discovery, and bade him steal round to the servants' quarters, rouse them
quietly, and bring one or two to trap the man at the foot of the ladder
while others made a dash through the library upon the marauder in the
strong room.
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