tap-room and out through the
inn door into the yard.

The rain had ceased and the sun was making a brave attempt to
shine through the clouds. The cold air did Desmond good and
after a turn or two in the yard, arm in arm with Francis, he felt
considerably better.

"Where is Miss Mackwayte?" he asked.

"Des," said his brother, "I don't know and I don't want to
cross-examine Nur-el-Din in there until I have reasoned out some
theory which will fit Miss Mackwayte in her place in this
horrible affair. The men have gone to search the outhouses and
precincts of the inn to see if they can find any traces of her
body, but I don't think they will find anything. I believe that
Miss Mackwayte is alive."

"Alive?" said Desmond.

"The blood on that toque of hers might have been Rass's. There is
a good deal of blood on the floor. You see, I still think Miss
Mackwayte's safety depends on that jewel not being recovered by
either Strangwise or Nur-el-Din. Strangwise, we know, has lost
the jewel and there is no trace of it here: moreover, we know
that, as late as yesterday afternoon, Nur-el-Din did not have it.
Therefore, she cannot have sent it away! I am inclined to
believe, too, that Strangwise, before going over to the Mill
House last night, carried off Miss Mackwayte somewhere with the
aid of Rass and Marie, who were evidently his accomplices, in
order to find out from her where the jewel is concealed..."

"But Miss Mackwayte cannot know what has become of it," objected
Desmond.

"Maybe not," retorted his brother, "but both Strangwise and
Nur-el-Din know that the jewel was originally entrusted to her
charge. Nur-el-Din did not, it is true, tell Miss Mackwayte what
the silver box contained but the latter may have found out, at
least the dancer might suppose so; while Strangwise might think
the same. Therefore, both Strangwise and Nur-el-Din had an
interest in detaining Miss Mackwayte, and I think Strangwise
forestalled the dancer. When Nur-el-Din discovered it, both Rass
and her maid paid the penalty of their betrayal."

They walked once up and down the yard before Desmond replied.

"Francis," he said, "you remember Nur-el-Din's story--I told it
to you just as I had it from her."

"Perfectly," answered his brother.

"Well," Desmond went on deliberately, "I think that story gives
us the right measure of Nur-el-Din's, character. She may be vain,
she may be without morals, she may be weak, she may be an
adventuress, but