she felt
that it would break her nerve entirely.

Having kissed Eustace and sent him away, she felt too restless to
get into bed. Sleep she knew would be impossible; and taking a
book, she was just sitting down with the set purpose of making
herself read awhile, in order to quiet her mind, when a sharp cry
reached her from the next room.

"Mother! mother!" Eustace cried, "come here--quick!"

CHAPTER VI.

BOB'S VERDICT.

She found Eustace standing beside his bed staring at it in utter
bewilderment.

"My dearest boy, what is it?" she asked.

"Why, look at that!" Eustace exclaimed, pointing down at the
coverlet.

From about the centre of the bed on the right side, down almost to
the foot, was a long brown streak like a burn: the coverlet was cut
and charred.

Mrs. Orban stared at it in astonishment

"What can it be?" she said.

"I can't think," Eustace replied.

"You had better fetch Robertson," Mrs. Orban said. "There is
something very odd about this."

"Don't you mind being left alone, mother?" Eustace asked, looking
round anxiously, as if he thought an explanation of the mystery
might jump from under a bed or out of a cupboard.

"Of course not, dear," Mrs. Orban replied gravely.

It amused her even in her anxiety that this slender scrap of
fourteen should assume such an air of protection, but it touched
her also, and she would not for worlds have let him fancy she could
smile at him.

Robertson hurried to the spot immediately, and when he saw the
condition of the coverlet he looked utterly nonplussed.

"Well, this is a queer state of things," he said, rubbing his head
meditatively. "I never saw anything to equal it."

Further examination proved that not only was the coverlet burnt
right through, but the under clothes were scorched and crumbled
like tinder at a touch.

"It looks like the track of a shot," Robertson said; "but how could
it come there?"

"I don't know," Eustace said, "unless some one was kneeling on the
floor at the foot of the bed and tried to shoot me without raising
his hand. The shot sounded most awfully close."

Robertson took a quick survey of the situation, ending with an
examination of the wall at the head of the bed.

"No," he said, "that couldn't be. The bullet would have gone into
the pillow or lodged in the wall, but there isn't a sign of it.
Seems to me it went the other way by the mark. It is broadest in
the middle of the bed."

He followed the line