ou
can tell nothing about him?"

"Nothing, sir--I know nothing."

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Absolutely!"

"You do not know his motive?"

"Ah, sir--you forget! He robbed me."

"True, true!" the Doctor returned, a slight flush tinting his cheeks,
for he fancied that he detected a mocking gleam in her eyes, a
suspicion of a smile curving her lips.

"True--I had forgotten. Pray pardon me," he said, "but the attack was
so violent, the blow so savage, the weapon must have been so keen, that
it is almost impossible to connect it with a mere attempt to commit a
paltry robbery. I thought, and the police thought, that it was a case
of intended murder."

"Ah, sir, they are clever, your police, but they sometimes make
mistakes! Is it not so?"

Doctor Brudenell's face flushed crimson. Was she laughing at him? It
looked like it. He was taken aback, discomfited. He did not know how to
go on, but she gave him no chance, for she spoke herself, emphasizing
her words by rapid gestures and much energetic waving of her white
hands.

"Listen, then, sir. This is all I know--that this man followed me--why,
I have no idea--that he came upon me suddenly in the solitary street
and asked me for money; that, when I refused it, he tore my purse away;
that, as I seized his arm and screamed, he wrenched it free, and struck
me with what you tell me was a dagger. I know no more but what you tell
me--nothing."

George Brudenell, listening and looking, believed after all his own
fancy was but a fancy. The theory of the sergeant and the inspector was
only a theory, a mere empty possibility, unsupported by fact. He
abandoned both ideas forthwith.

"Miss Boucheafen, could you recognize this man?"

"I think not--I am sure not." She shook her head, her eyes fixed
musingly upon the fire. "It was dark. No--I could not recognize him."

"Nor could I, unfortunately."

"And yet you saw him?"

"I saw him, yes--but only well enough to know that he was young, tall
and dark. And such a description would apply equally well to a hundred
men within a stone's throw of the house at the present moment."

"True," admitted Alexia Boucheafen, calmly.

"Since you can give me absolutely no clue, I am afraid that the chances
of capturing him, particularly after the lapse of a month, are so small
as to be worth nothing."

"Less than nothing," she assented. "It would be better to abandon the
endeavor."

"I am afraid that is what will have to be done, from s