ll protect you."

Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew
back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the
door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word
of the altercation had been heard within.

"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been
said was uncertain of the issue.

"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice.

But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of
the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed
some impression to his brain.

"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I
cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he
goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--"

With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes
starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he
remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a
groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily
upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious.

Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he
saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary
Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping
the disordered coverlet convulsively.

Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the
detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's
last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the
greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John
had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at
Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke.

"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--"

"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her.
"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!"

"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy
woman. "He is dying."

Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he
gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed
at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she
raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed.

"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly,
and