ced clock in the shadow struck three times upon
its strident bell. Only fifteen minutes more, and then the police
would enter and charge him with that foul crime. Then the solution of
a remarkable mystery which had puzzled the whole world would be
complete.

He started, and, glancing around, realized that Sonia, with her soft
hand in his, was again at his side.

"Why, dad," cried the girl in alarm, "how pale you are! Whatever ails
you? What can I get you?"

"Nothing, child, nothing," was the desperate man's hoarse response.
"I'm--I'm quite well--only a little upset at some bad news I've had,
that's all. But come. Let me kiss you, dear. It's time you were in
bed."

And he drew her down until he could print a last fond caress upon her
white open brow.

"But, dad," exclaimed the girl anxiously, "I really can't leave you.
You're not well. You're not yourself to-night."

As she uttered those words, Felix entered the room, saying in an
agitated voice--

"May I speak with you alone, m'sieur?"

His master started violently, and, rising, went forth into the hall,
where the butler, his face scared and white, whispered--

"Something terrible has occurred, m'sieur! Davis, the groom, has just
found a gentleman lying dead in the drive outside. He's been murdered,
m'sieur!"

"Murdered!" gasped Poland breathlessly. "Who is he?"

"The gentleman who called upon you three-quarters of an hour ago. He's
lying dead--out yonder."

"Where's a lantern? Let me go and see!" cried Poland. And a few
moments later master and man were standing with the groom beside the
lifeless body of Henri Guertin, the great detective, the terror of
all French criminals. The white countenance, with its open, staring
eyes, bore a horrified expression, but the only wound that could be
distinguished was a deep cut across the palm of the right hand, a
clean cut, evidently inflicted by a keen-edged knife.

Davis, on his way in, had, he explained, stumbled across the body in
the darkness, ten minutes before.

Philip Poland had knelt, his hand upon the dead man's heart, when
suddenly all three were startled by the sound of footsteps upon the
gravel, and next moment two men loomed up into the uncertain light of
the lantern.

One was tall and middle-aged, in dark tweeds and a brown hat of soft
felt; the other, short and stout, wearing gold pince-nez.

A loud cry of dismay broke from Poland's fevered lips as his eyes fell
upon the latter.

"Hallo! Wh