man might step out here on to the balcony and shut it down again, and
easily drop. But no: he can't have done that."

With his mind bent upon getting some clue as to the young man's actions,
Jerry turned back to his room and once more looked round.

"No," he said thoughtfully, "he couldn't do that; it would be cowardly,
and he's got too much pluck. He'd have taken some things, too and he
hasn't done that."

As Jerry spoke his eyes were turning everywhere in search of a clue; but
he saw nothing till they fell upon the tray, toward which he sprang with
a cry, for he had now caught sight of a piece of paper folded like a
note and bearing his name.

He tore it open, and read only these words:--

"Good-bye, Jerry. You were the only one to stand by me to the last.
Take my gold fox-head pin for yourself. I cannot face it all. I feel
half-mad."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

JERRY SEES THE WORST.

"Off his nut!" gasped Jerry, excitedly. "Who wants his fox-pin? I
wants him. Couldn't stand it!--half-dotty!"

He looked wildly round, and then his eyes lit upon the glittering waters
of the swollen river spreading far and near, and he once more uttered a
cry.

"The river!" he exclaimed. "It's that!" and, rushing out of the room,
he leaped headlong down the stairs, making for the pantry, where he
caught up his hat.

The next minute he was running along the main road, instinctively
feeling that this was the way anyone would take who wished to reach the
river.

He did not meet a soul for the first few hundred yards, and then came
suddenly, at a turn, upon a farmer's man, in long smock-frock, driving a
flock of sheep, and looking as if he had come far along the dusty road,
perhaps travelling since daylight.

"Meet a young gent in dark-grey soot and brown billycock hat?" panted
Jerry.

"Ay! Two mile along the road."

"Which way was he going?"

"Simmed to be making for lower lane; but it's all under water, and he'll
have to go round."

"All under water!" muttered Jerry, as he ran on rapidly. "Two miles--
and me sitting sleeping there like a pig. That's it--that's what he
meant! What did he say?--`Couldn't face it?' If I could only get there
in time! He must have been cracked! He must have been mad! He's gone
to drown hisself and get out of his misery, just like the
high-sperretted gent he is. I know: gents don't think like we do. It's
the Latin and Greek makes 'em classic and honourable, and they'd sooner