rs to their homes. But, along with the doctor and the constable,
Hope and his military friend stopped on. They were determined to get at
the root of the mystery, and when Mrs. Jasher became sensible she would
be able to reveal the truth.

"It's all of a piece with the sending of the emerald," said Random
to the artist, "and that is connected, as we know, with the death of
Bolton."

"Do you think that this man who has struck down Mrs. Jasher is the same
one who strangled Sidney Bolton?"

"I should think so. Perhaps Mrs. Jasher sent the emerald after all, and
this man killed her out of revenge."

"But how would he know that she had the emerald?"

"God knows! She may have been his accomplice."

Archie knit his brows.

"Who the devil can this mysterious person be?"

"I can only reply as you have done, my friend. God knows."

"Well, I am certain that God will not let him escape this time. This
will bring Gartley once more into notoriety," went on Hope. "By the way,
I saw one of the servants from the Pyramids here. I hope the fool won't
go home and frighten Lucy's life out of her."

"Go to the Pyramids and see her," suggested Sir Frank. "Mrs. Jasher is
still unconscious, and will be for hours, the doctor tells me."

"It is too late to go to the Pyramids, Random."

"If they know of this new tragedy there, I'll bet they are not in bed."

Hope nodded.

"All the same, I'll remain here until Mrs. Jasher can speak," he said,
and sat smoking with Random in the dining-room, as the most comfortable
room in the house.

Constable Painter camped, so to speak, in the drawing-room, keeping
guard over the scene of the crime, and had placed the Chinese screen
against the broken window to keep out the cold. In the bedroom Jane and
Dr. Robinson looked after the dying woman. And dying she was, according
to the young physician, for he did not think she would live much longer.
Round the lonely cottage the sea-mist drifted white and thick, and the
darkness deepened, until--as the saying goes--it could have been cut
with a knife. Never was there so eerie and weary and sinister a vigil.

Towards four o'clock Hope fell into a doze, while resting in an
arm-chair; but he was suddenly aroused from this by an exclamation from
Sir Frank, who had remained wide awake, smoking cigar after cigar. In a
moment the artist was on his feet, alert and quick-brained.

"What is it?"

Random made for the dining-room door rapidly.

"I thought I