oulder. I remembered that. Mathers was
a fat man, and he stooped so that his coat almost burst. I just leaned
over, picked out the exact spot, and he crumpled all up. I expect," he
went on, "you'll find him there still. No one comes near the place
for days and days. Mathers used to leave me locked up and do all the
shopping himself. I expect he's lying there now. Some one ought to go
and see."

Elizabeth was sobbing quietly to herself. Tavernake felt the
perspiration break out upon his forehead. There was something appalling
in the way this young man talked.

"I don't understand why you all look so serious," he continued. "No one
is going to hurt me for this. I am quite mad now. You see, I am playing
with this doll. Sane men don't play with dolls. I hope they'll try me
in New York, though. I am well-known in New York. I know all the lawyers
and the jurymen. Oh, they're up to all sorts of tricks in New York!
Say, you don't suppose they'll try me over here?" he broke off suddenly,
turning to Pritchard. "I shouldn't feel so much at home here."

"Take him away," Elizabeth begged. "Take him away." Pritchard nodded.

"I thought you'd better hear," he said. "I am going to take him away
now. I shall send a telegram to the police-station at St. Catherine's.
They had better go up and see what's happened."

Pritchard took his captive once more by the arm. The young man struggled
violently.

"I don't like you, Pritchard," he shrieked. "I don't want to go with
you. I want to stay with Elizabeth. I am not really afraid of her. She'd
like to kill me, I know, but she's too clever--oh, she's too clever! I'd
like to stay with her."

Pritchard led him away.

"We'll see about it later on," he said. "You'd better come with me just
now."

The door closed behind them. Tavernake staggered up.

"I must go," he declared. "I must go, too."

Elizabeth was sobbing quietly to herself. She seemed scarcely to hear
him. On the threshold Tavernake turned back.

"That money," he asked, "the money you were going to lend me--was that
his?"

She looked up and nodded. Tavernake went slowly out.

CHAPTER XXVI. A CRISIS

Pritchard was the first visitor who had ever found his way into
Tavernake's lodgings. It was barely eight o'clock on the same morning.
Tavernake, hollow-eyed and bewildered, sat up upon the sofa and gazed
across the room.

"Pritchard!" he exclaimed. "Why, what do you want?"

Pritchard laid his hat and gloves upon