id, but a very necessary
one. Your father, I understand, seated himself and began to denounce you
in a loud voice, and you----"

"Retaliated, Mr. Deland. Yes, I'm afraid I did. Poor old Dad! But I was
pretty well strung up. And then, just as he had sat down again--he was
standing up before, waving his fist in the air and calling me all sorts
of names"--his voice broke a tone or two and then recovered
itself--"just as he had taken up the pen and was about to scratch out my
name and substitute my sister's, out went the lights; we were plunged
immediately into utter darkness, and in the midst of it----"

"We heard distinctly the sound of the spinning wheel, humming just as
the Peasant Girl said it would hum upon the approaching death of any
male member of the family," supplemented Maud Duggan feverishly and with
much excitement. "Hum-hum-hum! it went, Mr. Deland; then there was a
swishing sound as of someone moving hurriedly--a sort of
half-gasp--a--a--oh! how shall I describe it?----"

"A whizz and a whirr, and then the lights came up and there lay Sir
Andrew in his chair--dead."

The finale came from Catherine Dowd, who spoke in a low, tense voice,
every note of which sounded in that quiet room, and made the atmosphere
vibrate with the feeling of it.

"My God!"

The exclamation came from Lady Paula's and Mr. Narkom's lips
simultaneously, but from very different causes. For the lady had gone
suddenly white as death and fallen back against the wall, both hands
pressed to her face and her shoulders shaking.

Maud Duggan hastened to her immediately, while Miss McCall, like the
perfectly trained companion she was, produced smelling-salts from the
capacious pocket of her blue serge coat-frock, and held it under her
mistress's nose. A dose of brandy set the lady to rights, and her
Southern emotionalism subsided when she sat down in front of the open
window.

She looked up into Cleek's downbent face with wide eyes.

"I am so sorry," she said. "But it brought it all back--so
dreadfully--so terribly! Oh, I shall never forget it--never! Miss
McCall, my smelling-salts, again, please.... Thank you. Mr. Deland, you
have still--much more to proceed with?"

He nodded.

"A good deal, I'm afraid. In the first place, I must tell you that we
have discovered one of the weapons--the stiletto which stabbed your
husband, Lady Paula. There remains but the air-pistol--and that will not
be a difficult matter, either, I imagine." He