rs, and at
the side there was a huge canopied bed over the head of which hung
an immense crucifix fastened to the wall that backed upon the
oratory. It was a majestic thing, that crucifix, richly carved
and exquisitely designed. Cleek went nearer and looked at it, his
artistic eye captured by the beauty of it; and Miss Valmond, noting
his interest, smiled.

"My brother brought me that from Rome," she said. "Is it not divine,
Mr. Headland?"

"Yes," he said. "But you must be more careful of it, I fear, Miss
Valmond. Is it not chipping? Look! Isn't this a piece of it?" He
bent and picked a tiny curled sliver of wood from the narrow space
between the two down-filled pillows of the bed, holding it out to
her upon his palm. But, of a sudden, he smiled, lifted the sliver
to his nose, smelt it, and cast it away. "The laugh is on me, I
fear--it's only a cedar paring from a lead pencil. And now, please,
I'd like to investigate the window."

She led him to it at once, explaining where she stood on the eventful
night; where she had seen the two figures pass, and where was the
wall door through which the dying man had been thrust.

"I wish I might see that door clearer," said Cleek; for night had
fallen and the moon was not yet up. "Don't happen to have such a
thing as a telescope or an opera glass, do you, Miss Valmond?"

"My brother has a pair of field glasses downstairs in his room. Shall
I run and fetch them for you?"

"I'd be very grateful if you would," said Cleek; and a moment after
she had gone. "Run down and get my sketching materials out of the
locker, will you, Mr. Narkom?" he added. "I want to make a diagram
of that house and garden." Then he sat down on the window-seat and
for five whole minutes was alone.

The field glasses and the sketching materials were brought, the
garden door examined and the diagram made, Miss Valmond and Narkom
standing by and watching eagerly the whole proceeding.

"That's all!" said Cleek, after a time, brushing the charcoal dust
from his fingers, and snapping the elastic band over the sketch
book. "I know my man at last, Mr. Narkom. Give me until ten o'clock
to-morrow night, and then, if Miss Valmond will let us in here again,
I'll capture Barrington-Edwards red-handed."

"You are sure of him, then?"

"As sure as I am that I'm alive. I'll lay a trap that will catch him.
I promise you that. So if Miss Valmond will let us in here again----"

"Yes, Mr. Headland, I will."

"Good!