," and Miss Junk dashed headlong from the
shop shouting comfort to Sylvia as she went.

Prince looked at the dead man and at the opal serpent which he held in
his hand. "This at one end of the matter, and that at the other. What is
the connecting link between this brooch and that corpse?"

CHAPTER VIII

THE VERDICT OF THE JURY

As may be guessed, the murder of Aaron Norman caused a tremendous
sensation. One day the name was unknown, the next and it was in the
mouths of the millions. The strange circumstances of the crime, the
mystery which shrouded it, the abominable cruelty of the serpent brooch
having been used to seal the man's lips while he was being slowly
strangled, deepened the interest immensely. Here, at last was a murder
worthy of Wilkie Collins's or Gaboriau's handling; such a crime as one
expected to read of in a novel, but never could hope to hear of in real
life. Fact had for once poached on the domains of fiction.

But notwithstanding all the inquiries which were made, and all the
vigilance of the police, and all the newspaper articles, and all the
theories sent by people who knew nothing whatever of the matter, nothing
tangible was discovered likely to lead to a discovery of the assassins
or assassin. It was conjectured that two people at least had been
concerned in the committal of the crime, as, weak physically though he
was, the deceased would surely not have allowed himself to be bound by
one person, however strong that person might be. In such a case there
would certainly have been a scuffle, and as the daughter of the murdered
man heard his cry for help--which was what Sylvia did hear--she would
certainly have heard the noise of a rough-and-tumble struggle such as
Norman would have made when fighting for his life. But that single
muffled cry was all that had been heard, and then probably the brooch
had been pinned on the mouth to seal it for ever. Later the man had been
slowly strangled, and in the sight of his horrified daughter.

Poor Sylvia received a severe shock after witnessing that awful sight,
and was ill for some days. The faithful Deborah attended to her like a
slave, and would allow no one, save the doctor, to enter the sick-room.
Bart Tawsey, who had been summoned to Gwynne Street from his bed,
remained in the empty shop and attended to any domestic duties which
Miss Junk required to be performed. She made him cook viands for Sylvia
and for herself, and, as he had been tra