Mr. Kibble had staggered up, with his lower jaw dropped, catching Potterson by the shoulder, and pointing to the half-door. He now cried out: “Potterson! Look! Look there!” Potterson started up, started back, and exclaimed: “Heaven defend us, what’s that!” Bella’s husband stepped back to Bella, took her in his arms (for she was terrified by the unintelligible terror of the two men), and shut the door of the little room. A hurry of voices succeeded, in which Mr. Inspector’s voice was busiest; it gradually slackened and sank; and Mr. Inspector reappeared. “Sharp’s the word, sir!” he said, looking in with a knowing wink. “We’ll get your lady out at once.” Immediately, Bella and her husband were under the stars, making their way back, alone, to the vehicle they had kept in waiting.