unaided. Gilbertine is tall, but not tall
enough for that. I purposely put it high."

I looked about for a stool. There was one just behind Sinclair. I drew
his attention to it.

He flushed and gave it a kick, then shivered slightly and sat down in a
chair nearby. I knew what he was thinking. Gilbertine was taller than
Dorothy. This stool might have served Gilbertine, if not Dorothy.

I felt a great sympathy for him. After all, his case was more serious
than mine. The Bishop was coming to marry him the next day.

"Sinclair," said I, "the stool means nothing. Dorothy has more inches
than you think. With this under her feet, she could reach the shelf by
standing tiptoe. Besides, there are the chairs."

"True, true!" and he started up; "there are the chairs! I forgot the
chairs. I fear my wits have gone wool-gathering. We shall have to take
others into our confidence." Here his voice fell to a whisper. "Somehow
or by some means we must find out if either of them was seen to come
into this room."

"Leave that to me," said I. "Remember that a word might raise suspicion,
and that in a case like this----Halloa, what's that?"

A gentle snore had come from behind the screen.

"We are not alone," I whispered. "Some one is over there on the lounge."

Sinclair had already bounded across the room. I pressed hurriedly behind
him, and together we rounded the screen and came upon the recumbent
figure of Mr. Armstrong, asleep on the lounge, with his paper fallen
from his hand.

"That accounts for the lights being turned out," grumbled Sinclair.
"Dutton must have done it."

Dutton was the butler.

I stood contemplating the sleeping figure before me.

"He must have been lying here for some time," I muttered.

Sinclair started.

"Probably some little while before he slept," I pursued. "I have often
heard that he dotes on the firelight."

"I have a notion to wake him," suggested Sinclair.

"It will not be necessary," said I, drawing back, as the heavy figure
stirred, breathed heavily, and finally sat up.

"I beg pardon," I now entreated, backing politely away. "We thought the
room empty."

Mr. Armstrong, who, if slow to receive impressions, is far from lacking
intelligence, eyed us with sleepy indifference for a moment, then rose
ponderously to his feet, and was on the instant the man of manner and
unfailing courtesy we had ever found him.

"What can I do to oblige you?" he asked, his smooth, if hesitating,
tones s