be plain to the perception
of an idiot. What has happened is this: the London police have heard
of a famous, recent German case mentioned in 'Deutsche Medizinische
Wochenschraft'--an astonishing thing. A woman, who had taken morphine
and barbital, was found apparently dead after a night's exposure in
some lonely spot. There were no reflexes, no pulse, no respiration or
heart-beat. Yet she was alive--existing without oxygen--an impossibility
as we had always supposed. Seeing no actual evidence of death, the
physicians injected camphor and caffein and took other restorative
steps, with the result that in an hour the woman breathed again!
Twenty-four hours later she was conscious and able to speak. It is
assumed that the poison and the cold night air together had paralyzed
her vasomotor nerves and reduced her body to a state akin to
hibernation, wherein physical needs are at their minimum. That case has
doubtless awakened these suspicions, and having regard to them, we will
keep the poor gentleman in a warm room and proceed with the classical
means for restoring respiration."

The doctor was thus engaged when four men reached Chadlands after their
nightly journey. They were detective officers of wide reputation, and
their chief--a grey-haired man with a round, amiable face and impersonal
manner--listened to the events that had followed upon Peter Hardcastle's
arrival and departure.

Sir Walter himself narrated the incidents, and perceiving his
excitation, Inspector Frith assumed the gentlest and most forbearing
attitude that he knew.

The police had come in a fighting humor. They arrived without any
preconceived ideas or plan of action; but they were in bitter earnest,
and knew that a great body of public opinion lay behind them. That
Hardcastle, who had won such credit for his department and earned the
applause of two continents, should have thus been lost, in a manner so
mean and futile, exasperated not only his personal colleagues, but the
larger public interested in his picturesque successes and achievements.

The new arrivals felt little doubt that their colleague was indeed dead,
nor, when they heard of the last catastrophe, and presently stood by
Septimus May, could they feel the most shadowy suspicion that life might
be restored to him. Sir Walter found his nerve steadied on the arrival
of these men. Indeed, by comparison with other trials, the ordeal before
him now seemed of no complexity. He gave a clear acc