im with my pearls in his hand. I--I demanded them back, but he
refused. I threatened to shout and alarm the servants, but he sprang
upon me and tried to strangle me!"

Bracondale, for the first time, noticed that the morocco jewel-case
stood open on the table.

"He must have got them from your bedroom!" he exclaimed; and then, his
quick eye catching sight of the tinder of the burnt letter in the fender
of the stove, he bent, picked it up, and remarked:

"He seems to have also burnt something. I wonder what it was?"

His lordship crossed the carpet and stood looking upon the dead face.

"Who is he? Do you know, Jean?" he inquired in a serious, intense tone.

"I--I have no idea."

"The police will establish his identity, no doubt. I will telephone for
them," he said. "But where are the pearls now?"

"In his pocket, I expect," she said.

Bracondale bent and hastily felt the outside of one of the dead man's
pockets. But they were not there.

He felt the other, and, discovering them, drew out the beautiful string,
and replaced it in its box.

"An expert thief, I should say, from his dress," remarked Bracondale.
"He wears gloves, too--just as all modern burglars do."

"He nearly strangled me," Jean declared weakly.

"It was fortunate that the revolver went off during the struggle, or he
might have killed you, dearest. Ah! you are a brave girl. The papers
will, no doubt, be full of this!"

"Ah! no!" she implored. "Do not let us have any publicity. I--I hate to
think that I have killed a man--even though he be an armed burglar."

"But the law permits you to take life in self-defence, therefore do not
trouble yourself over it. He would, no doubt, have killed you with
little compunction, rather than forego carrying away his prize."

"Yes--but----"

"No," urged her husband kindly. "Do not let us discuss it further. Come
with me to your room. I will telephone to the police in Havre, and leave
the rest to them. Come, dearest, you have had a terrible experience, and
you must rest quietly now--and recover."

He linked his arms in hers tenderly, and conducted her slowly from the
presence of that white, dead countenance she knew, alas! too well.

After taking her to her room and leaving her in the hands of Bates, her
maid, he descended, and from the study telephoned to the Chef de la
Surete at Havre.

Then, receiving a reply that three agents of police would at once be
dispatched on cycles, he went upstairs to wh