n
the background--always Travers."

"Travers! Who is he?"

"Oh, one of her old flames, the only one she ever really cared for, they
say. She was supposed to have broken with him out there in Java, because
they were too poor to marry; and now he's come over to England, and he's
there, in the house with the dear old dad and me, and they are as thick
as thieves together. I've caught them whispering and prowling about
together, in the grounds and along the lanes, after she has said 'Good
night,' and gone to her room and is supposed to be in bed. There's a
houseful of her old friends three parts of the time. They come and they
go, but Travers never goes. I know why"--waxing suddenly excited,
suddenly vehement--"yes! I know why. He's in the game with her!"

"Game! What game, Mr. Bawdrey? What is it that she is doing?"

"She's killing my old dad!" he answered, with a sort of sob in his
excited voice. "She's murdering him by inches, that's what she's doing,
and I want you to help me bring it home to her. God knows what it is
she's using or how she uses it; but you know what demons they are for
secret poisons, those Javanese, what means they have of killing people
without a trace. And she was out there for years and years. So, too, was
Travers, the brute! They know all the secrets of those beastly
barbarians, and between them they're doing something to my old dad."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know it--that's the worst of it. But I couldn't be surer of it
if they took me into their secrets. But there's the evidence of his
condition; there's the fact that it didn't begin until after Travers
came. Look here, Mr. Headland, you don't know my dad. He's got the
queerest notions sometimes. One of his fads is that it's unlucky to make
a will. Well, if he dies without one, who will inherit his money, as I
am an only child?"

"Undoubtedly you and his widow."

"Exactly. And if I die at pretty nearly the same time--and they'll see
to that, never fear; it will be my turn the moment they are sure of
him--she will inherit everything. Now, let me tell you what's happening.
From being a strong, healthy man, my father has, since Travers's
arrival, begun to be attacked by a mysterious malady. He has periodical
fainting-fits, sometimes convulsions. He'll be feeling better for a day
or so; then, without a word of warning, whilst you're talking to him,
he'll drop like a shot bird and go into the most horrible convulsions.
The doctors