It was midnight and after.

In the close-curtained library of Chepstow House, Cleek, with his little lordship sleeping in his arms, sat in solemn conclave with Lady Chepstow, Captain Hawksley, and Maverick Narkom; and while they talked, Ailsa, like a restless spirit, wandered to and fro, now lifting the curtains to peep out into the darkness, now listening as if her whole life's hope lay in the coming of some expected sound.

And in her veins there burned a fever of suspense.
"So you failed to get the rascals, did you, Mr.Narkom ?" Cleek was saying.

"I feared as much; but I couldn't get word to you sooner.

We injured the machine in that mad race to the mill, and of course we had to come at a snail's pace afterwards.