, in the work. No--" holding up his hand as the girl
was about to protest again--"no objections, sweetheart. And, before we
go further, tell me of this clue."

Prudence smiled happily. She had done her duty; she had laid bare her
heart to this man. She had spared herself in no way. She had let him
see, she told herself, the sort of girl she was. He still cared for
her; he still wished to marry her. She bowed her will to his quiet
decision.

"It is not much to go upon, but, as Deane, that is the detective,
says, it is a decided clue."

She rose from her seat and walked over to a small work-table. At that
moment the house shook to its very foundations with a dreadful crash
of thunder. Neche, who had moved with her, leapt fiercely at the
window as though flying at some invisible enemy. The girl called him
to her side, then she stood trembling. Flash after flash of lightning
blazed in the heavens, and she covered her eyes with her hands, whilst
the thunder seemed as though it would rend the earth from end to end.
Iredale was at her side in an instant, and his arm was about her, and
he drew her head upon his shoulder. Instantly her nerve was restored,
and, as the noise passed, she quietly released herself. Then,
stooping, she opened the drawer of the table and produced a torn copy
of the Winnipeg _Free Press_. She held out the paper and pointed to
the personal column.

"See," she said, with her index finger upon the second line of the
column. "'Yellow booming--slump in Grey.' Those who are responsible
for that message, whatever it may mean, are also responsible for
Leslie's death."

Iredale's eyes were fixed with a terrible fascination upon the print.
A breath escaped him which sounded almost like a gasp. His hands
clenched at his sides, and he stood like one turned into stone.

"How--how do you know this?" he asked, in a tense, hoarse voice.

"Leslie said so with his last dying breath."

There came no answering word to the girl's statement. Iredale did not
move. His eyes were still upon the paper. The silence of death reigned
in the room. Even the storm seemed suddenly to have ceased; only was
there the incessant swish of the torrential rain outside.

"That is the clue poor Leslie gave me."

"Ah!"

"What do you think?"

"You must give me time to think."

Iredale's mouth was parched. His voice sounded strange in his own
ears. For the moment he could scarcely realize his position. An
overwhelming horror was