nsuming him manifested itself about a fortnight after his
arrival, and it has been growing steadily worse every day. But it isn't
natural, Mr. Cleek; I know what I am saying, and I say that! Somebody is
doing something to him for some diabolical reason of which I know
nothing, and he is dying--dying by inches. Not by poison, I am sure of
that, for since the hour of my return I have not let him eat or drink a
single thing without myself partaking of it before it goes to him and
eating more of it after it has gone to him. But there is no effect in my
case. Nothing does he touch with his hand that I do not touch after him;
but the disease never attacks me, yet all the while he grows worse and
worse, and the end keeps creeping on. There! that's the case, Mr. Cleek.
For God's sake, get at the bottom of it and save my father, if you
can."

Cleek did not reply for a moment. Putting out his hands suddenly, he
began to drum a thoughtful tattoo upon the post of the lych-gate, his
eyes fixed on the ground and a deep ridge between his puckered brows.
But, of a sudden:

"Tell me something," he said. "These Cordovas--what reason have you for
suspecting them?"

"None, only that I dislike them. They're half-castes, for one thing,
and--well, you can't trust a half-caste at any time."

"Hum-m-m! Nothing more than that, eh? Just a natural dislike? And your
Aunt Ruth; what of her?"

"Oh, just the regulation prim old maid: sour as a lemon and as useful. A
good sort, though. Fond of the pater, careful as a mother of him, temper
like a file, and a heart a good deal bigger than you'd believe at first
blush. Do anything in the world for me, bless her."

"Even to the point of putting up a friend of yours for a couple of
days?"

"Yes; if I had one in these parts, which I haven't."

"Never count your chickens--you know the rest," said Cleek, with a
smile. "A fellow you met out in India, a fellow named George Headland,
lieutenant, remember the name, please, has just turned up in these
parts. You met him quite unexpectedly, and if you want to get at the
bottom of this case, take him along with you and get your Aunt Ruth to
put him up for a day or two."

"Oh, Mr. Cleek!"

"George Headland, if you please, Miss Lorne. There's a great deal in a
name, Shakespeare or anybody else to the contrary."

II

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when, after lunching with Cleek at
the inn of "The Three Desires," Lieutenant Bridewell turned up at