ated him!"

"Of course you hated him. How could a lady help hating him?" murmured
the questioner. "But would _you_ have the courage to kill him--that's
what I want to know!"

Under the inquisition Mrs. Marteen half roused to consciousness. She was
in the semi-lucid state of a sleepwalker.

"Kill him!" She held up her hands and looked at them as she had done
after reading the account of the murder. "I'm not sure I didn't kill
him; perhaps I did--I can't remember--I can't remember," she moaned more
and more faintly.

"Don't you take the credit of _that_!" shouted the woman, so loudly that
a young man who had been aimlessly walking up and down as if intent upon
some rendezvous, stopped short to gaze at them keenly.

The older woman, with a movement so rapid that it seemed almost
prestidigitation, lifted and threw back her companion's veil. The young
man gave a start and approached hastily, amazement in every feature. But
the two women were unaware of his presence, and what he next heard made
him pause, turn, and by a slight detour come up close behind the bench.

"Keep your hands off. Don't you say you killed him. What right have
_you_ to take his life, I'd like to know! Don't let me hear you say that
again--don't you dare! Just remember that killing him is _my_ business.
You sha'n't try to rob me--it's my right!" She leaned forward
threateningly.

A hand closed over her wrist. The woman screamed.

"Hold on, Mother, none of that." The young man, still retaining his
hold, came from behind the seat and stood over her.

She began to whimper and tremble. "Don't hit me," she begged pitifully.
"Don't hit me, and I'll be good, indeed, I will."

Mrs. Marteen had taken no notice of her providential protector. Her head
was sunk upon her breast and her hands hung limp in her lap.

The young man whistled twice, never relaxing his hold. A moment later a
form detached itself from the group before the door of the house
opposite, crossed the street and joined them quickly, yet with no
impression of hurry.

"What's up?" the newcomer asked quietly.

"Here, take hold. Don't let her get away from you." With a glance round,
he took a hypodermic needle from hi" pocket, and a quick prick in the
wrist instantly quieted the struggling, captive. "Get a cab," he
ordered, "and bring her over to my rooms. The utmost importance--not a
sound to anybody. I've got my job cut out for me--no police in this,
mind."

He turned, his manner al