xactly were his last words to you?"

"I begged him to tell me who it was who had injured him," replied
Wilson, in a shaking voice, "but all he could say was, 'The rope--mind
the Rope--the Rope of Fear--the Rope of Fear,' and then he was gone.
But there was no sign of any rope, Mr. Headland, and I can't imagine
what the dear old man was driving at. And now to think he is
dead--dead--"

His voice broke and was silent for a moment. Once again Cleek spoke.

"And you saw nothing, heard nothing?"

"Well--I hardly know. There was a sound--a faint whisper, reedlike and
thin, almost like a long drawn sigh. I really thought I must have
imagined it, and when I listened again it had gone. After that I rushed
to the safe and--"

"Why did you do that?"

"Because he had told me at dinner-time about the notes, and made me
promise I wouldn't mention it, and I was afraid someone had stolen
them."

"Is it likely that anyone overheard your conversation then? Where were
you lunching?"

"In the Rose and Crown," Wilson's voice trembled again as though the
actual recalling of the thing terrified him anew. "Simmons and I often
had lunch together. There was no one else at our table, and the place
was practically empty. The only person near was old Ramagee, the black
chap who keeps the Indian bazaar in the town. He's an old inhabitant,
but even now hardly understands English, and most of the time he's so
drugged with opium, that if did hear he'd never understand. He was
certainly blind to the world that lunch time, because my--my friend,
Simmons, I mean, noticed it."

"Indeed!" Cleek stroked his chin thoughtfully for some moments. Then he
sniffed the air, and uttered a casual remark: "Fond of sweets still, are
you Mr. Wilson? Peppermint drops, or aniseed balls, eh?"

Mr. Narkom's eyes fairly bulged with amazement, and young Wilson flushed
angrily.

"I am not such a fool as all that, Mr. Headland," he said quickly. "If I
don't smoke, I certainly don't go about sucking candy like a Kid. I
never cared for 'em as a youngster, and I haven't had any for a cat's
age. What made you ask?"

"Nothing, simply my fancy." But, nevertheless, Cleek continued to sniff,
and then suddenly with a little excited sound went down on his hands and
knees and began examining the stone floor.

"It's not possible--and yet--and yet, I must be right," he said softly,
getting to his feet at last. "'A rope of fear' was what he said, wasn't
it? 'A rope of fear.