tanding exactly where she can hear
the cry of the suffering in distress. You can leave that part of the
drama to me. She's a smart girl with plenty of pluck, but all the same I
am going to make use of her. Have you got the things?"

"Got everything, pardner. Got a proper wipe over the skull, too."

"How on earth did you manage to do that?"

"Meddling with Bell, of course. Why didn't you let him come and produce
his picture in peace? We should have been all ready to flabbergaster him
when he did come."

"My good Merritt, I have not the slightest doubt about it. My plans are
too carefully laid for them to go astray. But, at the same time, I firmly
believe in having more than one plan of attack and more than two ways of
escape. If we could have despoiled Bell of his picture it would have been
utterly useless for him to have come here. He would have gone back
preferring to accept defeat to arriving with a cock-and-bull story to the
effect that he had been robbed of his treasure on the way. And so he got
the best of you, eh?"

"Rather! I fancied that I was pretty strong, but--well, it doesn't
matter. Here I am with the tools, and I ain't going to fail this time.
Before Bell comes the little trap will be ready and you will be able to
prove an alibi."

Henson chuckled hoarsely. He loved dramatic effect, and here was one to
hand. He almost fancied that he could see the white outline of Chris's
figure from where he stood.

"Get along," he said. "There is no time to lose."

Merritt nodded and began to make his way upward. Some way above him
Chris was looking down. Her quick ear had detected some suspicious
sound. She watched eagerly. Just below her the big electric light on the
castle tower cast a band of flame athwart the cliff. Chris looked down
steadily at this. Presently she saw a hand uplifted into the belt of
flame, a hand grasping for a ledge of rock, and a quickly stifled cry
rose to her lips. The thumb on the hand was smashed flat, there was a
tiny pink nail in the centre.

Chris's heart gave one quick leap, then her senses came back to her. She
needed nobody to tell her that the owner of the hand was James Merritt.
Nor did she require any fine discrimination to perceive that he was up to
no good. That it had something to do with the plot against Bell she felt
certain. But the man was coming now, he could only reach the top of the
cliffs just under the wall where she was standing. Chris peered eagerly
down int