his foot on the last stair. Mrs. Morton gave a gasping cry of dismay,
dropped the candle, and fled. The candle did not go out. Although it
fell on its side, it continued to burn fitfully.

At the head of those stairs a sharp, savage struggle took place. The
Mexican uttered a smothered oath and sought to produce his knife.

"Thees time I fix you, Carkaire!" he panted.

The dim light of the candle gleamed on the blade. Greg Carker tore
himself free and struck a swinging blow which landed on Murillo's jaw.
The Mexican crashed to the foot of the stairs, where he lay groaning
while the aroused household flocked to the spot.

"What is it, Carker? What the dickens is the matter?" demanded Frank, as
he seized Greg's shoulder.

Carker had picked up the candle and was holding it in his hand.

"I think we'll find a man at the foot of these stairs," he said, his
voice not quite steady in spite of his effort to command himself.

They did find a man down there. Jose Murillo had struck on his own knife
and was seriously wounded. Doctor Schnitzle was promptly brought over
from Farnham Hall, but after taking a look at Murillo's wound, he turned
and whispered to Frank:

"Maype he vill last vun halluf hour, but it iss not to be expectioned.
It vos der end uf him."

The doctor was right. To the end Murillo protected his accomplice,
claiming he had broken into the house by himself, with the intention of
carrying Juanita off.

And Gregory Carker said nothing.

The following day, however, Carker found an opportunity to speak
privately, as he supposed, with Mrs. Morton. He followed her from the
house and stopped her at a point where there was little likelihood that
they would be seen.

"You'll take the next train out of Bloomfield," he said. "I thought you
might have good sense enough to take the first one, but you don't seem
inclined to go without being invited."

"Oh, Greg----"

He put up his hand.

"Stop where you are," he said. "Not a word from you. You let that sneak
into the house last night. You're responsible for the whole miserable
tragedy."

"But you will not expose me--you will not tell them?"

"No, I'll say nothing about it--in case you take the next train."

"You despise me! I see it in your face!"

"You're right, I do. I despise you most thoroughly, and I pray it may
never be my misfortune to see your face again."

"Oh, that girl--that wretched black-eyed----"

"And you may stop there," interrupted Ca