aw Mr. Rogers close behind
his shoulder.

"'Metta!"

I do not think he would have hurt her. But as the torch flared in
her face and lit up the shining heap of jewels, she threw up both
hands and doubled back screaming. I believed that she called to me
to hide. I put out a hand to catch her by the skirt, seeing that she
ran madly; but the thin muslin tore in my clutch.

"'Metta!"

On the ledge, against the sky, the voice seemed to overtake and
steady her for a second; but too late. With a choking cry, she put
out both hands against the void, and toppled forward; and in the
entrance was nothing but the blue, empty sky.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

DOCTOR BEAUREGARD.

"Glass? My dear madam, pardon my remissness; he is dead.
Rosa brought me the news before we sat down to table."

I opened my eyes. In the words, as I came back to consciousness, I
found nothing remarkable, nor for a few seconds did it surprise me
that the dark gallery had changed into a panelled, lighted room, with
candles shining on a long, white table, and on flowers and crystal
decanters, and dishes heaped with fruit. The candles were shaded,
and from the sofa where I lay I saw across the cloth the faces of
Miss Belcher and Captain Branscome intent on the Doctor.
He was leaning forward from the head of the table and speaking to
Plinny, who sat with her back to me, darkly silhouetted against the
light. Mr. Rogers, on Plinny's left, had turned his chair sideways
and was listening too; and at the lower end of the board a tall
epergue of silver partially hid the form of Mr. Goodfellow.

"Yes, indeed, I ought to have told you," went on the Doctor's voice.
"But really no recovery could be expected. The man's heart was
utterly diseased."

His gaze, travelling past Plinny, wandered as if casually towards me,
where I lay in the penumbra. I felt it coming, and closed my eyes;
and on the instant my brain cleared.

Yes; Glass was dead, of course, poisoned by this man as ruthlessly as
these my friends would be poisoned if I cried out no warning. . . .
Or perhaps it had happened already.

I opened my eyes again, cautiously, little by little. The Doctor was
filling Plinny's glass. Having filled it, he pushed the decanters
towards Mr. Rogers, and turned to say a word to Miss Belcher, on his
right. No; there was time. _It_ had not happened--yet.

I wanted to start up and scream aloud. But some power, stronger than
my will, held me down against