Jane was still being held by Sir Frank at the floor, and was still screaming, convinced that her captor was a burglar, in spite of having recognized him by his voice. was so by her stupidity that he shook her.  
“What is the matter, you fool?” he demanded. “Don't you know that I am a friend?”
 
“Y-e-s, s-i-r,” Jane, fetching her breath again after the shaking; “but go for the police. My mistress is being murdered.”
 
“Mr. Hope is looking after that, and the screams have ceased. Who was with your mistress?”
 
“I don't know, sir,” the servant. “I didn't know anyone had called, and then I heard the screaming. I looked into the to see what was the matter, but the lamp had been thrown over and had gone out, and there was a dreadful struggle going on in the darkness, so I screamed and ran out and then I—oh—oh” Jane showed symptoms of renewed hysteria, and clutched Random tightly, as a man came cautiously round the corner.
 
“Are you there, Random?” asked Hope's voice.
 
“It's so infernally dark and foggy that I have missed him.”
 
“Missed who?”
 
“The man who was trying to murder Mrs. Jasher, He got her down when I entered and struck a match. Then he dashed through the window before I could catch him or even recognize him. He's vanished in the mist.”
 
“It's no use looking for him anyhow,” said Random, peering into the blackness, which was thick with damp. “We had better see after Mrs. Jasher.”
 
“Whom have you got there?”
 
“Jane—who seems to have lost her head.”
 
“It's a mercy I haven't lost my life, sir, with burglars and murderers all about the place,” sobbed the girl, dropping on to the .
 
Random hauled her to her feet.
 
“Go and get a candle, and keep calm if you can,” he said in an military voice. “This is no time to play the fool.”
 
His sharpness had great effect on the girl, and she became much more her usual self. Hope lighted another match, and the trio proceeded through the passage towards the kitchen, where Jane had left a lamp burning. Seizing this from its bracket, Sir Frank his way along the passage to the pink parlor, followed closely by Hope and by Jane. A dreadful scene presented itself. The dainty little room was smashed to pieces, as though a gigantic bull had been wallowing therein. The lamp lay on the floor, surrounded by several extinguished candles. It was a mercy that all the lights had been put out when overturned, else the gim-crack cottage would have been long since in a blaze. Chairs and tables and screens were also overturned, and the one window had its rose-hued curtains torn down and its glass broken, showing only too clearly the way in which the murderer had escaped. And that the man who had attacked Mrs. Jasher was a murderer could be seen from the stream of blood that ran slowly from Mrs. Jasher's breast. she had been stabbed in the lungs, for the wound was on the right side. There she lay, poor woman, in her tawdry finery, up, and , dead amongst the ruins of her home. Jane immediately began to scream again.
 
“Stop her, Hope,” cried Random, who was kneeling by the body and feeling the heart. “Mrs. Jasher is not dead. Hold your noise, woman, and go for a doctor.” This was to Jane, who, prevented from screaming, took to whimpering.
 
“I had better go,” said Hope quickly; “and I'll go to the Fort and alarm the men. Perhaps they may catch the man.”
 
“Can you describe him?”
 
“Of course not,” said Archie indignantly. “I only caught a glimpse of him by the feeble light of a lucifer match. Then he leaped through the window and I after him. I made a grab at him, but lost him in the mist. I don't know in the least what he is like.”
 
“Then how can anyone arrest him?” snapped Random, raising Mrs. Jasher's head. “Give what alarm you like, but race for Robinson up the village. We must save this poor woman's life, if only to learn who killed her.”
 
“But she isn't dead yet—she isn't dead yet,” Jane, clapping her hands, while Hope, knowing the value of time, promptly ran out of the house to get further assistance.
 
“She soon will be,” said Sir Frank, whose temper was not of the best at so critical a moment in with a fool. “Go and bring me brandy at once, and afterwards and hot water. We must do our best to staunch this wound and revive her.”
 
For the next quarter of an hour the man and the woman hard to save Mrs. Jasher's life. Random bound up the wound in a rough and ready fashion, and Jane fed the pale lips of her mistress with of brandy. Mrs. Jasher gradually became more alive, and a faint sigh escaped from her lips, as her wounded rose and fell with recovered breath. When Sir Frank was in hopes that she would speak, she suddenly relapsed again into a state. Luckily at that moment Archie returned with young Dr. Robinson at his heels, and also was followed by Painter, the village , who had luckily been picked up in the fog.
 
Robinson whistled as he looked at the insensible woman.
 
“She's had a narrow squeak,” he muttered, lifting the body with the assistance of Random.
 
“Will she recover?” questioned Hope anxiously.
 
“I can't tell you yet,” answered the doctor; and with Sir Frank he carried the heavy body of the widow into her bedroom. “How did it happen?”
 
“That is my business,” said Painter, who had followed, and who was now filled with importance. “You look after the body, sir, and I'll question these gentlemen and the servant.”
 
“Servant yourself! Such sauce!” muttered Jane, with an angry toss of her cap at the daring young policeman. “I know nothing. I left my mistress in the parlor writing letters, and never heard anyone come in. The bell didn't sound anyhow. The first thing I knew that anything was wrong was on hearing the screams. When I looked into the parlor the candles and the lamp were out, and there was a struggle going on in the dark. Then I cried out, very naturally, I'm sure, and ran straight into the arms of these gentlemen, as soon as I could get the front door open.”
 
After delivering this address, Jane was called away to assist the doctor in the bedroom, and along with Archie and Random the constable repaired to the pink parlor to hear what they had to say. Of course they could tell him even less than Jane had told, and Archie protested that he was quite unable to describe the man who had dashed out of the window.
 
“Ah,” said Painter , “he got out there; but how did he enter?”
 
“No doubt by the door,” said Random sharply.
 
“We don't know that, sir. Jane says she did not hear the bell.”
 
“Mrs. Jasher might have let the man in, whomsoever he was, secretly.”
 
“Why should she, sir?”
 
“Ah! now you are asking more than I can tell you. Only Mrs. Jasher can explain, and it seems to me that she will die.”
 
Meanwhile, in some mysterious way the news of the crime had spread through the village, and although it was growing late—for it was past ten o'clock—a dozen or so of villagers came along. Also there arrived a number of soldiers under a smart , and to him Sir Frank explained what had happened. In the fainthearted way—for the mist was now like cotton-wool—the military and the hunted through the round the cottage, hoping to come across the assassin hiding in a ditch. Needless to say, they found no one and nothing, for it was worse than looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. The man had come out of the mist, and, after executing the deed, had vanished into the mist, and there was not the very slightest chance of finding him. Gradually, as it drew towards midnight, the soldiers went back to the Fort, and the villagers to their homes. But, along with the doctor and the constable, Hope and his military friend stopped on. They were to get at the root of the mystery, and when Mrs. Jasher became sensible she would be able to reveal the truth.
 
“It's all of a piece with the sending of the emerald,” said Random to the artist, “and that is connected, as we know, with the death of Bolton.”
 
“Do you think that this man who has struck down Mrs. Jasher is the same one who strangled Sidney Bolton?”
 
“I should think so. Perhaps Mrs. Jasher sent the emerald after all, and this man killed her out of revenge.”
 
“But how would he know that she had the emerald?”
 
“God knows! She may have been his .”
 
Archie knit his brows.
 
“Who the devil can this mysterious person be?”
 
“I can only reply as you have done, my friend. God knows.”
 
“Well, I am certain that God will not let him escape this time. This will bring Gartley once more into notoriety,” went on Hope. “By the way, I saw one of the servants from the Pyramids here. I hope the fool won't go home and frighten Lucy's life out of her.”
 
“Go to the Pyramids and see her,” suggested Sir Frank. “Mrs. Jasher is still unconscious, and will be for hours, the doctor tells me.”
 
“It is too late to go to the Pyramids, Random.”
 
“If they know of this new tragedy there, I'll bet they are not in bed.”
 
Hope nodded.
 
“All the same, I'll remain here until Mrs. Jasher can speak,” he said, and sat smoking with Random in the dining-room, as the most comfortable room in the house.
 
Constable Painter camped, so to speak, in the drawing-room, keeping guard over the scene of............