e slight illumination. All was still
and silent as the grave when they began their dreary watch.

The minutes passed slowly in the darkness, and there was an unbroken
silence save for the breathing of the watchers and the restless
movements of Mrs. Clear near the window. They saw her pass and repass
the square of glass, when, unexpectedly, she paused, rigid and silent.

A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, and pacing cat-like
along the passage.

Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as the steps of the murderer
sounded nearer and clearer. They paused at the door, and then moved
towards the window where Mrs. Clear was standing.

"Is that you?" said a low voice, which came weirdly out of the darkness.

"Yes. I have been waiting for the last half hour, Mr. Wrent," replied
the woman in nervous tones. "I am glad you have come."

"I am glad, also," said the voice harshly, "as I wish to know why you
propose to betray me."

"Because you won't pay me the money," said Mrs. Clear boldly. "And if
you don't give it to me this very night I'll go straight and tell the
police all about my husband."

"I'll kill you first!" cried the man with a snarl, and made a dash at
the woman. With a cry for help she eluded him and sprang towards the
bedroom door for protection. The next moment the four watchers were in
the room wrestling with Wrent. When he felt the grip of their hands, and
knew that he was betrayed, he cried out savagely, and fought with the
strength of two men. However, he could do little against his four
adversaries, and, worn out with the struggle, collapsed suddenly on to
the dusty floor with a motion of despair.

"Lost! lost!" he muttered. "All lost!"

Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of the dark lantern and
turned the light on to the face of the prisoner. Out of the darkness
started a pale face with white hair and long white beard. Lucian uttered
a cry.

"Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. Vrain!"

"Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly over the face and head
of the prostrate man. Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more
startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all
gone, and he recognised at once who Wrent was.

"Jabez Clyne!--Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes!" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, conspirator and assassin!"

CHAPTER XXXI

A STRANGE CONFESSION

"I, Jabez Clyne, write this confession in my