rising next morning he found, to his surprise, a small square
of paper pinned on to the coverlet of his bed just over his
chest. On it was printed, in bold straggling letters:--

"Twenty-nine days are given you for amendment, and then ----"

The dash was more fear-inspiring than any threat could have
been. How this warning came into his room puzzled John
Ferrier sorely, for his servants slept in an outhouse, and
the doors and windows had all been secured. He crumpled the
paper up and said nothing to his daughter, but the incident
struck a chill into his heart. The twenty-nine days were
evidently the balance of the month which Young had promised.
What strength or courage could avail against an enemy armed
with such mysterious powers? The hand which fastened that
pin might have struck him to the heart, and he could never
have known who had slain him.

Still more shaken was he next morning. They had sat down to
their breakfast when Lucy with a cry of surprise pointed
upwards. In the centre of the ceiling was scrawled, with a
burned stick apparently, the number 28. To his daughter it
was unintelligible, and he did not enlighten her. That night
he sat up with his gun and kept watch and ward. He saw and
he heard nothing, and yet in the morning a great 27 had been
painted upon the outside of his door.

Thus day followed day; and as sure as morning came he found
that his unseen enemies had kept their register, and had
marked up in some conspicuous position how many days were