application of the cold water, had
practically ceased to flow. I bound my head up, removed the remaining
traces of blood from my face and then, returning cautiously to the green
room, entered and looked about me. The light from my own room, and the
gray signs of dawn without enabled me to see that it was empty. There
was no silent figure crouching within, waiting to deal me another deadly
blow, nor had I expected to find any. I took one look about, seized my
watch from the table and fled. But, when I left that chamber of horrors,
and closed the door behind me, I knew how Robert Ashton had come to his
death.

[Illustration: I BOUND MY HEAD UP AND THEN, RETURNING CAUTIOUSLY TO THE
GREEN ROOM, ENTERED AND LOOKED ABOUT ME.]

On returning again to my own room I glanced hurriedly at my watch. It
was nearly six o'clock.

The stimulation of the whiskey had by this time begun to wear off, and I
lay down upon the bed to rest. Presently I fell asleep, from pure
exhaustion, and did not awake until I was aroused by a tapping at the
door. I looked at my watch. It was after ten o'clock, and the bright
morning sun was glistening upon the bare ground and the trees without,
brilliant in their coats of frozen rain. One of the maids had brought up
my breakfast upon a tray, and I managed to take it from her without
exhibiting my bound-up head and generally gory appearance. The whole
right shoulder and side of the pajamas which I still wore were caked
with blood. I sent word to Major Temple that I would join him shortly,
and requested the maid to inform him that, should Sergeant McQuade
arrive, he be asked to postpone his final examination of the green room
until I had seen him. In somewhat less than an hour I had managed to get
myself into fairly presentable condition, and with my head bound up in
towels that looked for all the world like an Eastern turban, I slowly
descended to the main hall and entered the library.

Major Temple was standing with his back to the fire, talking earnestly
with the detective, who stood facing him. As the former caught sight of
my pale face and bandaged head, he stopped speaking suddenly, sprang
forward and took my hand.

"Good God, Mr. Morgan!" he cried, "What's wrong with you?"

I tottered unsteadily to a seat, and laughed. "Nothing much, Sir," I
replied. "I had a bit of an accident last night and got a nasty cut in
the head. It's nothing serious, however."

"You look rather done up, Sir," said McQua