a fresh supply of breath, he released Monsieur Dupont's
shoulder, and made a brisk movement towards the direction from which the
Frenchman had come.

Monsieur Dupont blocked the way.

"No, no--it would be a waste of time. I have come from there."

"To the river, then," the manager cried, bearing him round. "He may be
trying to get across."

He was evidently familiar with the intricacies of the garden. In a few
minutes, after a dozen turnings, they reached the gleam of water.

"Keep your eyes open for the next flash," the manager directed.

He peered about. A moment later the lightning lit up the calm stretch of
the river and the broad lawns sloping down to it. Monsieur Dupont
detected no form or movement--but with a startling shout, the manager
bounded away from him across the lawns.

Monsieur Dupont blinked after him in astonishment.

He was alone again--in a new and even darker part of the endless
garden.

CHAPTER IV

DESTRUCTION

A deep-toned clock in the house struck twelve.

Rain began to fall. A few moments later the financier hurried across the
lawns with his collar turned up. The danseuse followed him. She seemed a
disappointed and indignant woman.

"It's almost an insult," she complained overtaking him.

"Noth a penny more," said the financier firmly.

They both turned quickly. Her hand gripped his arm convulsively. Wild
shouting arose in the darkness, and the sound of someone forcing a
headlong way through hedge and bush.

The Reverend Percival Delamere was rushing towards the house as if the
entire penalties of sin were at his heels.

"A corpse! A corpse by the river! Miss Manderson has been murdered!"

The danseuse uttered a terrified cry. The financier shook.

"Murderedth?" he gasped, shrinking back.

The clergyman was shattered by horror.

"By the river ... almost torn to pieces...."

The danseuse screamed loudly. A figure bounded up behind them, and a
hand seized the clergyman's throat in a savage grip. The furious,
distorted face of George Copplestone glared down at him. He struggled,
freeing himself with all his strength.

"Copplestone," he choked, "something dreadful has happened to Miss
Manderson. I found her by the river ... horribly torn...."

From another direction, Tranter reached them, breathless.

"What is the matter? What has happened?"

The financier clung to him.

"Mith Manderthon ... murderedth."

Tranter shook him off, and stood very still. The ag