xt, and only gave a casual examination to the rest. The whole
affair was a puzzle to him, and he had no time for puzzles disconnected
with the very serious affair he was engaged in investigating.

"Some childish nonsense," he remarked, and moved towards the door. "The
servants will be coming back, and I had rather not be found here. You'll
see me again--I cannot tell just when. Perhaps you may want to send for
me. If so, my name is Sweetwater."

His hand was on the knob, and he was almost out of the room when he
started and looked back. A violent change in the patient had occurred.
Disturbed by his voice or by some inner pulsation of the fever which
devoured her, Carmel had risen from the pillow and now sat, staring
straight before her with every feature working and lips opened as if to
speak. Sweetwater held his breath, and the nurse leaped towards her and
gently encircled her with protecting arms.

"Lie down," she prayed; "lie down. Everything is all right: I am looking
after things. Lie down, little one, and rest."

The young girl drooped, and, yielding to the nurse's touch, sank slowly
back on the pillow; but in an instant she was up again, and flinging out
her hand, she cried out loudly just as she had cried an hour before:

"Break it open! Break the glass and look in. Her heart should be
there--her heart--her heart!"

"Go, or I cannot quiet her!" ordered the nurse, and Sweetwater
turned to obey.

But a new obstacle offered. The brother had heard this cry, and now stood
in the doorway.

"Who are you?" he impatiently demanded, surveying Sweetwater in
sudden anger.

"I brought up the drugs," was the quiet explanation of the ever-ready
detective. "I didn't mean to alarm the young lady, and I don't think I
did. It's the fever, sir, which makes her talk so wildly."

"We want no strangers here," was young Cumberland's response. "Remember,
nurse, no strangers." His tone was actually peremptory.

Sweetwater observed him in real astonishment as he slid by and made his
quiet escape. He was still more astonished when, on glancing towards the
alcove, he perceived that, contrary to his own prognostication, the
whiskey stood as high in the decanter as before.

"I've got a puzzler this time," was his comment, as he made his way
downstairs. "Even Mr. Gryce would say that. I wonder how I'll come out.
Uppermost!" he finished in secret emphasis to himself. "_Uppermost_! It
would never do for me to fail in the first big