ever
seen anybody--die. It was awful."

Beale nodded. His thoughts were set on the doctor. Why had he stood so
motionless? He was not the kind of man to be shocked by so normal a
phenomenon as death. He was a doctor and such sights were common to him.
What was the reason for this strange paralysis which kept him chained to
the spot even after the body had been removed?

The girl was talking, but he did not hear her. He knew instinctively
that in van Heerden's curious attitude was a solution of Predeaux's
death.

"Excuse me a moment," he said.

He passed with rapid strides from the room, down the broad stairway and
into the palm-court.

Van Heerden had gone.

The explanation flashed upon him and he hurried to the spot where the
doctor had stood.

On the tessellated floor was a little patch no bigger than a saucer
which had been recently washed.

He beckoned the manager.

"Who has been cleaning this tile?" he asked.

The manager shrugged his shoulders.

"It was the doctor, sare--so eccentric! He call for a glass of water and
he dip his handkerchief in and then lift up his foot and with rapidity
incredible he wash the floor with his handkerchief!"

"Fool!" snapped Beale. "Oh, hopeless fool!"

"Sare!" said the startled manager.

"It's all right, M'sieur Barri," smiled Beale ruefully. "I was
addressing myself--oh, what a fool I've been!"

He went down on his knees and examined the floor.

"I want this tile, don't let anybody touch it," he said.

Of course, van Heerden had stood because under his foot he had crushed
the digitalis tablet he had taken from the phial, and for which he had
substituted something more deadly. Had he moved, the powdered tablet
would have been seen. It was simple--horribly simple.

He walked slowly back to where he had left Oliva.

What followed seemed ever after like a bad dream to the girl. She was
stunned by the tragedy which had happened under her eyes and could offer
no evidence which in any way assisted the police in their subsequent
investigation, the sum of which was ably set forth in the columns of the
_Post Record_.

"The tragedy which occurred in the Palm-Court of the Grand Alliance
Hotel yesterday must be added to the already long list of London's
unravelled mysteries. The deceased, a man named Jackson, has been
staying at the hotel for a week and was on the point of departure
for Canada. At the last moment Dr. van Heerden, who was ass