from the direction of the west door two sharp raps. He
flashed his light at the clock over the mantel. Its hands pointed
exactly to nine o'clock. Yet he had seen no one pass the dim frame of
the library doorway--nothing white.

He ran through. In the wan candle light he could see the slender figure
in the white gown and the flowing veil slip from behind the screen and
open the door. Then Nora would get the bomb, but where was the real
veiled woman? What unaccountable intuition had warned her away?

Garth slipped along the hall, clinging to the shadow of a tapestry. He
knew from the black patch at the end of the corridor that the door was
wide. In that dark patch he suddenly saw the silhouette of a man. The
hands were stretched out as if to meet the hands which Nora appeared to
offer for the bomb. But the man carried no bomb. In the dim light Garth
thought at first that he carried nothing. Then he understood his
mistake, and he cried out, drawing his own revolver, darting forward:

"Nora! Look out!"

He had seen that the man's fingers fondled an automatic, raised it,
aimed it at the confident, expectant figure.

"For police spies!" the man called.

Before Garth could reach the door the harsh, tearing report of the
automatic came, and was repeated twice. There was no question. At that
short range each sound from the stubby cylinder was the voice of death.
Garth saw the form that he loved sway, clutch at nothing, without a cry
crumple and lie motionless across the threshold.

Before the other could turn his gun on him the detective had grappled
with the murderer. He bore him to the porch floor and struck him across
the temple with the butt of his revolver. Garth arose then, and,
scarcely aware of what he did, placed his police whistle at his lips,
and blew shrilly through the night.

While he waited for the help that he knew would be too late for Nora or
for him, he gazed at the silent, slender form. The veil alone moved,
trembling from time to time in the wind which came gently from the
woods. That reached the candle also, which flickered, making the light
ghastly, unbearable.

* * * * * *

Garth shook. He covered his face with his hands, for the dim, unreal
illumination had shown him that the figure was no longer completely
white. The reason for its stillness exposed a scarlet testimony.

That which Garth had feared but had forgotten in the rush of his more
personal terror ren