es, Vincent," she exclaimed, in an agitated
voice. "He wants to know everything that has happened since he was taken
ill. What shall we do?"

"He must be told, of course," replied Musard, with masculine decision.
"It is better that he should know than be kept in suspense. How is he?"

"He seems quite normal and rational. Will you see him and tell him?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact it is advisable that he should know everything
without delay. I sent for you to tell you that Detective Caldew has just
arrived to ascertain if Phil can identify the revolver. I told him Phil
was still ill, but he is persistent, and thinks that he ought to be
allowed to see him. It would be better if Phil could see him, and settle
the point."

"Oh, Vincent, do you think it is wise?"

"Yes. Phil has had a shock, but it is not going to kill him, and the
sooner he takes up his ordinary life again the better it will be for
him. Come, now, everything will be all right." He smiled at her anxious
face reassuringly. "Leave it to me. I will see that nothing is done to
agitate Phil if I do not think him strong enough to bear it. Now, let us
go to him."

The bedroom door was open and Phil was standing near it as though
awaiting their appearance. He held out his hand to Musard, who was
surprised by the strength of his grip. He eyed the young man critically,
and thought he looked fairly well considering the ordeal he had passed
through.

"I am glad to see you better, Phil," he said. "How do you feel? Not very
fit yet?"

"I am all right," responded Phil quickly. "Now, Musard, I want you to
tell me all that has happened since I have been lying here. I am
completely in the dark. Has anybody been arrested for the murder of my
wife?"

He spoke in a dry impersonal tone as though of some occurrence in which
he had but a remote interest, but Musard was too keen a judge of men to
be deceived by his apparent calmness. He thought that it was better for
him to learn the truth at once.

"Yes, Phil," he said quietly, "there has been an arrest. Hazel Rath has
been arrested for the murder of Violet."

"Who?" The tone of detachment disappeared. The interrogation was flung
at Musard's head with a world of incredulity and amazement.

"Hazel Rath, the housekeeper's daughter."

"In the name of God, why?"

"Gently, laddie. Sit down, and take it quietly. I'll tell you all."

Phil controlled himself with a painful effort, and took a chair near the
bedside.

"G