s," said Stratton, "I struck up the pistol as he drew the trigger;
but who would believe--who would believe?"

"And then I saw him reel and fall, and there before me he lay, with the
blood slowly staining the carpet, on the spot where I had so often sat."

He wiped his brow again, while Stratton rested his elbows on the table
and buried his face in his hands, as if to hide from his gaze the scene
his friend conjured up from the past.

"Malcolm Stratton," continued the old man, rising to lay his hand upon
the other's head, "you were to me as a son. As a father loves the boy
born unto him, I swear I felt toward you. I looked upon you as the son
of my childless old age, and I was standing there gazing at you, face to
face with the horror of that scene, while, with crushing weight, there
came upon me the knowledge that, come what might, I must summon help.
That help meant the police; and, in imagination, I saw myself sending
you to the dock, where you would perhaps, from the force of the
circumstances--as you have told me you might--stand in peril of your
life. But still I felt that there was nothing otherwise that could be
done; and, slowly shrinking back, I was on my way to perform this act of
duty, when I heard a low, deep groan. That drew me back, and, looking
into your room once more, a mist rose between me and the scene, my
senses reeled, and I slowly sank down, fainting, on the floor."

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

THE REVELATION.

"It was the act of a woman, Stratton," said Brettison with an apologetic
smile, "but I am only a weak old man, and never weaker than in those
moments.

"I could not have been there a moment, and I must have glided down, or
you would have heard me. I came to and for a moment could not
understand why I was there. Then all came back with overwhelming force,
and I crept back to the panel to look through.

"You were returning from the door, and the next moment were standing by
the body, with the pistol in your hand, apparently unharmed; and then,
to my horror, it seemed as if you were about to use the weapon upon
yourself; but to my intense relief I saw you thrust it into your pocket,
and then stand by the body as if bereft of sense, utterly helpless as to
what course to pursue. While sharing your misery I forgot my intentions
of seeking help; and, nerving myself for the encounter, I was about to
come round, but your looks chained me to the spot, and, utterly helpless
now, I stayed