had struck upon the victim's _right_ temple. A single
descending blow can not very well pass down one side of a man and end
upon the other.

But while Chaya's story gratified me beyond measure, at the same time
it was incomplete; it threw no light upon the ruby's resting-place, and
for the simple reason that he knew no more about it than any of the
rest of the individuals interested in discovering where it had been
hidden. I was satisfied that the cipher, once I had interpreted it,
would lead me to the gem. Therefore, it remained for me to find it.

Well, the cryptic writing was solved, pretty soon; but the solution
came like a crash of thunder, revealing the one twist toward the end
that I had least expected.

And, worst of all, I should have known!

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CIPHER SOLVED

Chaya's ante-mortem statement, properly attested by Dr. Larrimer, Dr.
De Breen, the hospital secretary, and myself, together with the
otherwise complete case I had, was sufficient of course to open the
prison doors for Royal Maillot. It should also have lifted the cloud
from Alfred Fluette; but, alas! it did not.

To make my story end as all well-conditioned stories ought to end, I
should here be able to wave my wand, or invoke some good genie, or
however it is that the writer-folk bestow happiness at a stroke upon
the helpless creatures whom they have been ruthlessly dragging through
a sea of trial and tribulation, and show you the actors in my own drama
transported with joy. But I am recording what actually happened. It
was a strange fatality that cast itself into the lives of these people.
They were dismayed, overwhelmed, rendered helpless, left
uncomprehending. However much I may desire to do so, therefore, I can
not twist the truth to give my own story precisely the ending that you
or I might desire it to have.

As for myself, I couldn't carry the news fast enough to Maillot and to
Mr. Fluette, and to Belle and Genevieve. My enthusiasm met its first
damper when the cell door swung open, and the young fellow walked out a
free man. It is true that his gratitude was immeasurable; he could
find no words to express it, and he wrung my hand until--strong man
that I am--I had to tear away from him.

But after his elation had time to cool, he grew morose and gloomy; he
was more inclined to cling to what he had gone through, than to accept
the extremely satisfactory assurance that he stood clear and as far
above suspi