That morning had shown the figure 2 upon the wall of his
house, and the next day would be the last of the allotted
time. What was to happen then? All manner of vague and
terrible fancies filled his imagination. And his daughter --
what was to become of her after he was gone? Was there no
escape from the invisible network which was drawn all round
them. He sank his head upon the table and sobbed at the
thought of his own impotence.

What was that? In the silence he heard a gentle scratching
sound -- low, but very distinct in the quiet of the night.
It came from the door of the house. Ferrier crept into the
hall and listened intently. There was a pause for a few
moments, and then the low insidious sound was repeated.
Someone was evidently tapping very gently upon one of the
panels of the door. Was it some midnight assassin who had
come to carry out the murderous orders of the secret
tribunal? Or was it some agent who was marking up that the
last day of grace had arrived. John Ferrier felt that
instant death would be better than the suspense which shook
his nerves and chilled his heart. Springing forward he drew
the bolt and threw the door open.

Outside all was calm and quiet. The night was fine, and the
stars were twinkling brightly overhead. The little front
garden lay before the farmer's eyes bounded by the fence and
gate, but neither there nor on the road was any human being
to be seen. With a sigh of relief, Ferrier looked to right
and to left, until happening to glance straight down at his
own feet he saw to his astonishment a man lying flat upon his