Fellowes
held out a hand for it. "Let me look at it," he said. Turning the
needle over in his palm, he examined it carefully. "So near and yet so
far," he remarked. "There are a good many people who would pay a high
price for the little risk and the dead certainty. You wouldn't,
perhaps, tell us what the poison is, Mr. Mappin? We are all very
reliable people here, who have no enemies, and who want to keep their
friends alive. We should then be a little syndicate of five, holding a
great secret, and saving numberless lives every day by not giving the
thing away. We should all be entitled to monuments in Parliament
Square."

The surgeon restored the needle to the case. "I think one monument will
be sufficient," he said. "Immortality by syndicate is too modern, and
this is an ancient art." He tapped the case. "Turkey and the Mongol
lands have kept the old cult going. In England, it's only for the dog!"
He laughed freely but noiselessly at his own joke.

This talk had followed the news brought by Krool to the Baas, that the
sub-manager of the great mine, whose chimneys could be seen from the
hill behind the house, had thrown himself down the shaft and been
smashed to a pulp. None of them except Byng had known him, and the dark
news had brought no personal shock.

They had all gathered in the library, after paying an afternoon visit
to Jigger, who had been brought down from London in a special carriage,
and was housed near the servants' quarters with a nurse. On the night
of Jigger's accident Ian Stafford on his way from Jasmine's house had
caught Mr. Mappin, and the surgeon had operated at once, saving the
lad's life. As it was necessary to move him in any case, it was almost
as easy, and no more dangerous, to bring him to Glencader than to take
him to a London hospital.

Under the surgeon's instructions Jasmine had arranged it all, and
Jigger had travelled like royalty from Paddington into Wales, and there
had captured the household, as he had captured Stafford at breakfast in
St. James's Street.

Thinking that perhaps this was only a whim of Jasmine's, and merely
done because it gave a new interest to a restless temperament, Stafford
had at first rejected the proposal. When, however, the surgeon said
that if the journey was successfully made, the after-results would be
all to the good, Stafford had assented, and had allowed himself to be
included in the house-party at Glencader.

It was a triumph for Jasmine, for