yet tell her the terrible truth that he had been the victim of foul play.

"It is my fault!" she cried. "My place was here--at home. But--but why was I not here?" she added with a blank look. "Where did I go?"

"Don't you remember that you went to London with the Hennikers?" I said.

"Ah! of course!" she exclaimed. "How very stupid of me to forget. But do you know, I've never experienced such a strange sensation before. My memory is a perfect blank. How did I return here?"

"Short fetched you in a cab."

"Short? I--I don't recollect seeing him. Somebody knocked at my door and said I was wanted, because my husband had been taken worse, so I dressed and went down. But after that I don't recollect anything."

Her mind is a trifle affected by the shock," I whispered to my love. "Best take her downstairs into one of the rooms and lock the door. Don't let her see the police. She didn't notice the constable at the door. She'll be better presently."

I uttered these words mechanically, but, truth to tell, these extraordinary symptoms alarmed and puzzled me. She had fainted at hearing of the death of her husband, just as many other wives might have fainted; but to me there seemed no reason whatsoever why the swoon should be followed by that curious lapse of memory. The question she had put to me showed her mind to be a blank. I could discern nothing to account for the symptoms, and the only remedy I could suggest was perfect quiet. I intended that, as soon as daylight came, both women should be removed to the house of some friend in the vicinity.

The scene of the tragedy was no place for two delicate women.

Notwithstanding Mrs. Courtenay's determination to enter her husband's room I managed at last to get them both into the morning-room and called the nurse and cook to go in and assist in calming her, for her lapse of memory had suddenly been followed by a fit of violence.

"I must see him!" she shrieked. "I will see him! You can't prevent me. I am his wife. My place is at his side!"

My love exchanged looks with me. Her sister's extraordinary manner utterly confounded us.

"You shall see him later," I promised, endeavouring to calm her. "At present remain quiet. No good can possibly be done by this wild conduct."

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