he strength of which his meager body had been stripped. They flashed
with a passionate purpose which drew Garth magnetically until he was
close and had stooped and was staring into them with a curiosity almost
as pronounced as their eagerness.

"What is it, Mr. Alden?" he asked.

The other's fingers continued to stray about the chair arms.

"You've got to tell me what you know--all you suspect," Garth urged.
"We've murder on our hands. What do you know?"

Alden's head rose and fell affirmatively.

"Out with it."

But Alden did not answer, although his eyes burned brighter; and Garth
guessed.

"Speak, Mr. Alden," he begged.

Alden's lips moved. His throat worked. His face set in a grotesque
grimace.

"There's danger for all of us," Garth cried. "The time for silence has
passed."

Then Alden answered, but it was only with that helpless, futile
sound--such a whimper as escapes unintelligibly from the fancied
fatality of a nightmare.

Garth drew back. Now when it was too late Alden wanted to talk. Now when
he had been robbed of the power he craved the abandonment of words.

"Mrs. Alden," Garth whispered. "You know your husband can't speak! Look
at him!"

About her advance there was that hypnotic quality Garth had noticed
before. He read in her face, moreover, a sympathy and a love that made
it as difficult of unmoved contemplation as the helpless suffering in
Alden's.

Alden smiled sorrowfully as his wife came close and stooped to him. His
hands ceased their straying about the chair arms. They rose with a quick
motion, an unsuspected strength, and closed about her white and
beautiful throat.

She did not cry out. Perhaps there was no time. Her eyes closed. Her
lips were wistful.

Garth tore at the man's fingers. It took all his force to break their
hold. And as he fought the answer to a great deal came to him. Alden was
clearly insane, and his wife's fear and John's doubt of her safety were
accounted for. Yet it didn't answer all. What was the share of the
shrouded army in the forest? What was the connection of the death that
had struck there twice?

Alden's vise-like grip was broken. Mrs. Alden swayed against the
writing-table, gasping. Alden's whimpering had recommenced.

Garth looked from one to the other.

"Good God!" he said.

She turned on him.

"Why did you come? It is your fault."

Garth pointed at the cabinet where the medicine was kept. The nightmare
whimpering did not cease.

"Ge