th his hands, clutched
suddenly at the air, and fell forward in a fit.

I went to him, loosened his collar, and applied restoratives, but in
ten minutes I saw that he was beyond human aid. What I had at first
believed to be a fit was a sudden cessation of the functions of the
heart--caused by wild excitement and the knowledge that punishment was
upon him.

Within fifteen minutes of that final accusation the old man lay back
upon the carpet lifeless, struck dead by natural causes at the moment
that his crimes had become revealed.

Thus were the Seven Secrets explained; and thus were the Central
Criminal Court and the public spared what would have been one of the
most sensational trials of modern times.

The papers on Monday reported "with deepest regret" the sudden death
from heart disease of Sir Bernard Eyton, whom they termed "one of the
greatest and most skilful physicians of modern times."

* * * * *

Just two years have passed since that memorable evening.

You, my reader, are probably curious to know whether I have succeeded
in obtaining the quiet country practice that was my ideal. Well, yes,
I have. And what is more, I have obtained in Ethelwynn a wife who is
devoted to me and beloved by all the countryside--a wife who is the
very perfection of all that is noble and good in woman. The Courtenay
estate is ours; but I am not an idle man. Somehow I cannot be.

My practice? Where is it? Well, it is in Leicestershire. I dare not be
more explicit, for Ethelwynn has urged me to conceal our identity, in
order that we may not be remarked as a couple whose wooing was so
strangely tragic and romantic.

Ambler Jevons still carries on his tea-blending business in the City,
the most confirmed of bachelors, and the shrewdest of all criminal
investigators. Even though we have been so intimate for years, and he
often visits me at ---- I was nearly, by a slip, writing the name of
the Leicestershire village--he has never explained to me his methods,
and seldom, if ever, speaks of those wonderful successes by which
Scotland Yard is so frequently glad to profit.

Only a few days ago, while we were sitting on the lawn behind my
quaint old-fashioned house awaiting dinner, I chanced to remark upon
the happiness which his ingenuity and perseverance had brought me;
whereupon, turning to me with a slight, reflective smile, he replied:

"Ah, yes! Ralph, old fellow. I gave up that problem in despai