is innocent. I have been an unlucky
man, and I remain one at this moment when I sign myself for the last
time,
JABEZ CLYNE."

* * * * *

Needless to say, both Link and Denzil were greatly surprised at this
confession, which revealed all things save the one they wished to know.

"What do you think of this idea of suicide?" asked Lucian.

"It is quite out of the question," replied the detective decidedly. "The
doctor who examined the body said that it was impossible the man could
have committed suicide. The position of the wound shows that; also the
power of the stroke. No man could drive a stiletto so dexterously and
strongly into the heart. Also the room was in confusion, which points to
a struggle, and the stiletto is missing. It was not suicide, but murder,
and I believe either Clyne or Ferruci killed the man."

"But Ferruci was not----"

"He was not there after ten," interrupted Link, "but he was there about
eight. I dare say when Rhoda saw him he was coming back after having
committed the deed, and Clyne says the stiletto was not there at the
time just to screen him."

"It is of little use to screen the dead," said Lucian. "I think only one
person can tell the truth about this murder, and that is Rhoda."

"I'm looking for her, Mr. Denzil."

This was easy saying, but harder doing, for weeks passed away, and in
spite of all the efforts of the police Rhoda could not be found. Then
one morning the detective, much excited, burst into Lucian's rooms
waving a paper over his head.

"A confession!" he cried. "Another confession!"

"Of whom?" asked Lucian, surprised.

"Of Rhoda!" replied Link excitedly. "She has confessed! It was Rhoda who
killed Michael Clear!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY

Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death, this was the last
which Lucian expected to hear. He stood staring at the excited face of
the detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment could not find
his voice.

"It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down and smoothing out the
paper which he carried. "Rhoda, and none other, killed the man!"

"Are you sure, Link?"

"Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, "is her dying
confession."

"Her dying confession?" repeated the barrister blankly. "Is she dead,
also?"

"Yes. It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you.
As