his
two companions entered it, for the very spirit of desolation and despair
seemed to have taken up its abode there; and, like an Incarnate Woe,
Miss Comstock paced through the hush and darkness, hour in and hour out,
as she had been doing since daybreak.

"My darling, you mustn't--you really mustn't, dear. You'll lose your
mind if you brood over the thing like this," said the Captain, flying to
her the very instant they arrived; and, disregarding the presence of his
two companions, caught her in his arms and kissed her. "Miriam, dearest,
don't! It breaks my heart. I know it's awful; but do try to have
strength and hope. I am sure we shall get at the bottom of the thing
now--sure that there will be no more--that this is truly the end. These
gentlemen are from Scotland Yard, dearest, and they say it surely will
be."

"Heaven knows I hope so," replied Miss Comstock, acknowledging the
introduction to Cleek and Narkom by a gentle inclination of the head.
"But indeed, I can't hope, Jim--indeed, I cannot, gentlemen. The tenth
of next month will take its toll as the tenth of this one has done. I
feel persuaded that it will. For who can fight a thing unseen and
unknown?"

Her grief was so great, her despair so hopeless, that Cleek forbore
attempting to assuage either by any words of sympathy or promise. He
seemed to feel that hers was an anguish upon which even the kindliest
words must fall only as an intrusion, and the heart of the man--that
curiously created heart, which at times could be savage even to the
point of brutality, and again tender and sympathetic as any
woman's--went out to her in one great surge of human feeling. And two
minutes later--when all the Law's grim business of inquiry and inquest
had been carried out by Narkom, and she, in obedience to his expressed
desire, led them to the room where the dead boy lay--that wave of
sympathetic feeling broke over his soul again. For the gentle opening of
the door had shown him a small, dimly lit room, a kneeling figure, bent
of back and bowed of head, that leant over a little white bed in a very
agony of tearless woe.

"He can hardly tear himself away for an instant--he loved him so!" she
said in a quavering whisper to Cleek. "Must we disturb him? It seems
almost cruel."

"I know it," he whispered back; "but the place must be searched in quest
of possible clues, Miss Comstock. The--the little boy, too, must be
examined, and it would be crueller still if he were