do not even pretend to look for the corpse."

"Or a body perhaps," Sartoris went on. He was quite the coolest person
in the room. "Well, what do you want me to say or do? If you produce the
corpse----"

"As I said before, there is no corpse," Field said. "Colonel Berrington
seems to have discovered something. He may be able to help us if you
won't."

"I can help you," Berrington said in a thrilling voice, "beyond your
most sanguine hopes."

CHAPTER XXXVII

Sartoris sat a huddled heap on the floor, with his white snarling face
looking out like the head of an angry snake. He was not in the least
afraid, and yet the expression of his eyes told that he knew everything
was over. As he struggled painfully to his feet, Mary ran forward and
guided him to a chair. He did not thank her by so much as a gesture. All
the care and tenderness was wasted upon that warped nature.

"If I were not a cripple," he snarled, "this would never have happened.
And yet a cursed bag of aching bones has got the better of you all, ay,
and would have kept the better, too, if I could only have moved about
like the rest. But you are not going to get me to say anything if I sit
here all night."

It was a strange scene, altogether,--Sartoris a huddled heap, cursing
and snarling in his chair, the man Reggie and the woman Cora standing
by, with uneasy grins on their faces, trying to carry it off in a spirit
of false bravado. To the right of them stood Bentwood, now quite sober
and shaking, and Richford sullen and despairing. Beatrice was in the
shadow behind Mark Ventmore. Mary moved forward, followed by Berrington.

"What is the charge?" the man Reggie asked. "What have we done?"

Field shrugged his shoulders. Really the question did not deserve a
reply. Sartoris took up the same line in his snarling voice.

"That's what we want to know," he said. "What is the charge? If you have
a warrant, read it aloud. We have every right to know."

"I have a warrant so far as you are concerned," Field replied. "For the
present, you are charged with forgery and uttering a certain document,
purporting to be an assignment of mining interests in Burmah from Sir
Charles Darryll to yourself. The document is in my pocket, and I can
produce it for your inspection, if you like. I need not tell you that
there will be other charges later on, but these will suffice for the
present."

"That does not touch us, at all," the woman Cora said.

"I am arresting y