de as he examined me
searchingly. "Has Buddha been at work again? Major Temple has just been
telling me about his dog. The thing is too deep for me. I've handled
many cases, but this one beats them all for uncanniness, and downright
mystery. I wonder if the truth of the affair will ever be known."

"Yes," said I, shortly. "I know it."

"You!" Both Major Temple and the detective turned and looked at me as
though they could scarcely believe their ears.

"I know how Robert Ashton was killed, and I'm pretty sure I can explain
the death of the dog as well. In fact, you came very near having a third
mystery on your hands this morning, Sergeant." I smiled grimly.

"What do you mean?" asked the both of them, together.

"I slept in the green room last night," I replied, "and the thing that
did for poor Ashton came very near doing for me as well." As I spoke, I
felt my wounded head gently. "As it is, I fancy I will be all right,
after the doctor has put a few stitches in my head, but it was a close
call, I can tell you."

"You slept in the green room?" asked Major Temple in amazement. "What
in the name of Heaven did you do that for?"

"To find out what happened to Ashton, and by the merest chance I did so.
A little more one way, and you would never have known. And a little more
the other," I added, "and I probably never should."

"Explain yourself, man," said the Major, somewhat testily. "What
happened? Tell us about it, can't you?"

"I can and will," I said, slowly, "but not here. We must go there,
before you can fully understand."

"Come on, then," said McQuade, and they both started toward the door.

At that moment Muriel came in, glancing about, I felt, for me. She came
toward me, as I rose from my chair, with a happy smile, which slowly
faded away and was replaced by a look of deepest concern as she saw my
bandaged head. "Why, Owen!" It was almost the first time she had called
me by my Christian name and it made me feel wildly happy in spite of
the racking pains in my head. "What on earth is the matter? Are you
hurt?" She came up and took my hand, unmindful of the presence of her
father and the man from Scotland Yard.

"Not much," I managed to reply; "just a nasty bit of a cut about the
head. I slept in the green room last night, and, as I was just telling
your father, I managed to find out the secret of Mr. Ashton's death, but
I had rather a bad quarter of an hour doing so." I smiled ruefully and
felt my turba