Jane was still being held by Sir Frank at the floor, and was still

screaming, fully convinced that her captor was a burglar, in spite of

having recognized him by his voice. Random was so exasperated 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," gasped 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," sobbed the servant. "I didn't know anyone had

called, and then I heard the screaming. I looked into the parlor 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

dense 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 veranda.

Random promptly hauled her to her feet.

"Go and get a candle, and keep calm if you can," he said in an abrupt

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 retraced his way along the

passage to the pink parlor, followed closely by Hope and timorously

by Jane. A dreadful scene presented itself. The dainty little room

was literally 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. Apparently she had been stabbed in the lungs, for the

wound was on the right side. There she lay, poor woman, in her tawdry

finery, crumpled up, battered and bruised, dead amongst the ruins of her

home. Jane immediately began to scream again.




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