description of
him."

"The man whom the maid and I saw is very tall, which enables him to
bend over his victims and stab them from above between the shoulders.
He is thin . . . stoops a little . . . and he's very pale. . . ."

"Stop!" ordered Simon, impressed by this description, which was that
of Edward. "Stop! . . . The man is a friend of mine and I'll answer
for him as I would for myself. Rolleston a murderer! What nonsense!"

And Simon broke into a nervous laugh, while the Indian, still
impassive, resumed:

"Among other matters, the maid told me of a public-house, frequented
by rather doubtful people, where Rolleston, a great whiskey-drinker,
was a familiar customer. This information was found to be correct.
The barman, whom I tipped lavishly, told me that Rolleston had just
been there, at about twelve o'clock, that he had enlisted half-a-dozen
rascals who were game for anything and that the object of the
expedition was the wreck of the _Queen Mary_. I was now fully
informed. The whole complicated business was beginning to have a
meaning; and I at once made the necessary preparations, though I made
a point of coming back here constantly, so that I might be present
when you awoke and tell you the news. Moreover, I took care that your
friend, Mr. Sandstone, should watch over you; and I locked your
pocketbook, which was lying there for anybody to help himself from, in
this drawer. I took ten thousand francs out of it to finance our
common business."

Simon was past being astonished by the doings of this strange
individual. He could have taken all the notes with which the
pocketbook was crammed; he had taken only ten. He was at least an
honest man.

"Our business?" said Simon. "What do you mean by that?"

"It will not take long to explain, M. Dubosc," replied the Indian,
speaking as a man who knows beforehand that he has won his cause.
"It's this. Miss Bakefield lost, in the wreck of the _Queen Mary_, a
miniature of the greatest value; and her letter was asking you to go
and look for it. The letter was intercepted by Rolleston, who was thus
informed of the existence of this precious object and at the same
time, no doubt, became acquainted with Miss Bakefield's feelings
towards you. If we admit that Rolleston, as the maid declares, is in
love with Miss Bakefield, this in itself explains his pleasant
intention of stabbing you. At any rate, after recruiting half-a-dozen
blackguards of the worst kind, he set out f