A throat was cleared in the hall doorway in an apologetic manner. The Major was too preoccupied to hear it.
"Here's Peter," said Julia, soothingly, without looking up.
"Ah! I'd forgotten. Let me ask you to have a julep with me, Doctor Glenning. Peter, pass the tray to the gentleman."
The retainer of the Dudley household shambled forward, bearing a tray upon which sat two glasses, each containing a well-mixed mint julep. It may as well be stated here that the quality of a mint julep depends largely upon the manner in which it is prepared, and Peter had been doing this sort of thing three times a day for more years than he had fingers and toes. This formal courtesy having been duly observed, Peter withdrew at once, and the question of the moment again commanded attention.
"There's nothing, my daughter," said Major Dudley, reverting to Julia's question, "there's nothing can positively thwart a villain except steel or lead. This man has hounded me until I'm desperate!"
"I agree with Miss Dudley," said Glenning, speaking carefully, "that it would not do for you to attempt to cope with this midnight assassin. A personal encounter is not at all improbable, and in that event you would inevitably suffer bodily harm, and perhaps death, for the man who would undertake such a piece of work as this would not hesitate to take human life."
While he was speaking Julia left her father's side and went back to the chair she had formerly occupied.
"Is there any one about the place upon whom you could rely?" John queried.
"We are alone with the exception of Peter and Aunt Frances. They would sacrifice themselves for us, but their aid would be out of the question upon an occasion like this."
A sudden gloom seemed to envelope the Major as he spoke.
"There's no one," he added, in a lifeless tone.
"But in town?" persisted the calm, even voice. "Is there no one--no young person who is not afraid that you could call to your assistance?"
The old man's head moved slowly in sign of negation.
"We live almost absolutely to ourselves, and alone," explained Julia. "It has been the family trait for generations. I have sometimes thought it a grave fault thus to seclude ourselves from the world, and live apart from our neighbors. It is a species of selfishness, but we have always found it very sweet. But living thus we must, you see, be sufficient unto ourselves at all times and under all circumstances. We have no moral nor civil right to make any demands, or ask any favours. We have chosen our lot, and we must abide by it, whatever comes. Until now--until this hour we have never regretted this, but--"