Bella's thoughts reverted to the events of the previous night. She remembered that Cyril had come to the house and, without a sign of recognition had entered. She had not seen him depart, because—because—oh, yes, she had fallen unaccountably asleep. Slumber had overtaken her at the very moment when she was preparing to descend from the window, in order to—to—to——. Bella uttered a wild cry, and the ebbing blood left her face pearly white. The interview between her father and Cyril had taken place; she had not been there, and now—and now——. "What do you say?" she asked her aunt, in a hard, unemotional voice.

Mrs. Coppersley, quite unnerved, and drying her scared face with the towel, gasped and stared. "Didn't you hear? What's come to you, Bella? Your father has been murdered. I got up this morning as usual, and went into the study. He's lying there, covered with blood. Oh, who can have killed him?"

"How should I know?" cried Bella, harshly. "I was locked up in this room by you, Aunt Rosamund. I fell asleep after—after——" she stopped, aware that she might say something dangerous.

"After what?" asked Mrs. Coppersley, curiously.

"After you left—after I drank the tea. Oh, how could I fall asleep, when—when—ah!" Bella made a bound for the table, and took up the empty cup. Some dregs of tea remained, which she tasted. They had a bitter flavour, and a thought flashed into her mind. "You drugged this tea!" she cried.

Mrs. Coppersley flapped her plump hands feebly, and gasped again. Never a very strong-minded woman, she was now reduced to a markedly idiotic condition under the strain of the tragic circumstances. "I drug your tea? Save us, Bella, what do you mean?"

"I drank this tea and fell asleep," said the girl sharply; "although before drinking it, I did not feel at all sleepy. Now I have a disagreeable taste in my mouth, and my head aches. There is a queer flavour about what is left in the cup. I am sure this tea was drugged. By you?"

"Good Lord!" cried Mrs. Coppersley indignantly. "Why should I drug your tea, Bella? Your father poured it out himself in the study, when I was getting you toast in the kitchen. I told you so last night."

"Yes, yes. I remember." Bella passed her hand across her forehead. "My father evidently drugged the tea to keep me quiet. And so he has met with his death by violence."

"Bella," Mrs. Coppersley 

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