"Yes, sir. It was his opinion, he said, that Mr. Reginald Boyd did it, and that Mr. Remington was mixed up with it, and that, to keep off suspicion from themselves, they were trying to throw it on my poor husband."

"Did you believe it?"

"I didn't know what to believe, sir, I've been that distracted."

"I sincerely pity you; but do not lose heart. Did your daughter Gracie believe it-but stop, I must put it another way. Did your daughter Gracie say anything to you on the subject?"

"Yes, sir. She said she didn't believe it. The poor child didn't like Dr. Vinsen."

"That is all, Mrs. Death."

No questions being asked by the counsel for the prosecution, Mrs. Death's place was taken by Mr. Rawdon, whose face was very white when he stepped into the box.

"You were one of the jury at the inquest held upon the body of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"

"I was."

"You are acquainted with Mr. Ezra Lynn?"

"I have had business dealings with him."

"Borrowed money of him?"

"Yes."

"I will trouble Mr. Ezra Lynn, or Dr. Vinsen, to stand up again. Thank you. Is that Mr. Ezra Lynn?"

"Yes."

"Not Dr. Vinsen?"

"I don't know Dr. Vinsen."

"The inquest extended over a period of eleven days. Now, I ask you whether, during those eleven days, you had frequent communication with Mr. Ezra Lynn?"

"I saw him once or twice."

"Be careful. Did you not see him six or seven times?"

"Probably."

"You owe him a large sum of money?"

"I owe him money."

"He holds an execution over all your goods and furniture which he can put into execution at any moment? No evasions, sir!"

"Yes."

"On those six or seven occasions on which you saw Mr. Lynn while the inquest was in progress what was the subject of conversation between you?"

"The money I owe him."

"Nothing else? Not the murder?"

"It was mentioned. Everybody was talking of it."

"Now, there is no obligation upon you to answer the question I am about to put, but if you reply I warn you to bear in mind that you are upon your oath. In the course of your conversations with the man who could sell you up at a moment's notice, did he express a wish that a particular verdict should be returned, and did he supply you with any information concerning Mr. Reginald Boyd to guide you in furthering that wish? You are silent. Do you decline to answer?"

"Yes, I do. It has nothing to do with the case. Everybody has an opinion about the murder."

"I am not asking you about his opinion, but about his wish, and about certain information with which he supplied you. You are still silent. We shall know what construction to place upon your refusal to give a plain answer to a plain question. You can return to your seat, Mr. Rawdon, unless counsel for the prosecution desires to cross-examine you."

Mr. Marlow: "I have no questions to ask the witness; and I may add that I fail to see the drift of several of the questions my learned friend has put to the witnesses."

Mr. Pallaret: "When I have finished it will be seen that there is not a question I have put which is not justified. In all my experience I have never known so foul a conspiracy as that which I hope to lay bare. Call Joseph Pitou."

The foreign gentleman with the curled moustache who had been stationed behind Dr. Pye left his seat, and made his way to the witness box, and for the first time Dr. Pye had a full view of his swarthy face. They gazed steadily at each other, and for so long a time that it seemed to be a challenge which should drop his eyes first. This strange and steadfast gaze drew upon the two actors the attention of every person in Court. At length, with a gesture expressive of satisfaction, Joseph Pitou turned to Mr. Pallaret, who had watched the scene so earnestly that it almost appeared as if he were also playing a part in it.

CHAPTER LXIV
A STARTLING DENOUEMENT

"What is your name and calling?"

"I am of the Criminal Investigation Department in Paris. Joseph Pitou, a name well known."

"We are familiar with it in England. You have come to London on special business?"

"In association with my esteemed confrère, Monsieur Lambert, I have come to make the arrest of a notorious criminal."

"You speak excellent English?"

"You are pleased to say so. It is to me as my mother tongue; as is also Italian, German, and various dialects of the Turkish and Polish languages."

"What is the name of the notorious criminal you have come to arrest?"

"Louis Lorenz."

"Do you hope to be able to lay hands on him?"

"I can lay this hand on him at any moment."

"What is the nature of his crime?"

"Permit me. Of his many crimes. Many robberies, attended with extreme brutality. And worse than robberies. One positive murder in Gallicia; another probable murder in Vienna; another in St. Petersburg."

"Up to this day he has escaped?"

"Yes, he has escaped, always escaped. Condemned to the galleys in Vienna; a week afterwards, flown. Sent to Siberia in Russia; disappeared on the road. Sentenced to death in Gallicia; his cell empty the day after he was put into it."

"A man of rare talent?"

"Of immense talent. His plans laid with the brain of a master; money ready for bribes; confederates ready to obey orders. Nothing has been too difficult for him to accomplish."

"What was the principal motive for his crimes? Money?"

"It is curious. Money sometimes, but never money alone. In every case his victim was possessed of some rare treasures of art which Lorenz coveted, and would have trodden through blood to obtain. As it happens, he trod through much blood. In this way many valuable antiques have disappeared. I have a record of them. Search has been made for them throughout the wide world, and they are still undiscovered. For years I have been on the track of them. A clue fell into my hands, and I followed it up. I hold a warrant for the man's arrest, and soon justice will be satisfied."

"Louis Lorenz can be no common criminal?"

"My faith, no! Louis Lorenz is a prince, an emperor of criminals. I have hunted for him in every city in Europe and America, and for the art treasures he has stolen. Not one has seen the light; not one has been offered to dealers or connoisseurs. He has been known here, and known there, as a man who dabbled in science. It has been said he is in search of the Philosopher's Stone, of the elixir of life. He has imposed even upon savants, who have been seduced into believing in the miracles he declared he would one day accomplish."

"But if he presented himself in his own proper person how is it that he has not been caught, that he is still free?"

"Never did he present himself in his own proper person. Always so disguised that it was impossible to identify him. He is an actor of the first class, a match for the Evil One himself. But for the powers of darkness man is sometimes a match."

"'Be sure thy sin will find thee out?'"

"Ah, monsieur, it is true."

"You say it would be impossible to identify him with his clothes on. Would it be impossible to identify him with his clothes off?"

"'Ah, no, that is a different matter. He is branded on the back, on the breast."

Mr. Marlow: "Is not my learned friend wandering from the case we are investigating-the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square?"

Mr. Pallaret: "No. Be patient, and you will understand; I will not keep you long in suspense." (To the witness.) "You say you can lay hands on Louis Lorenz at any moment. At this moment?"

"At this moment."

"Here in this court?"

"Here in this court."

"Then he must be in attendance?

"He is in attendance."

"Point him out."

The witness extended his arm dramatically, and pointed to Dr. Pye.

"That is the man!"

A scene of indescribable excitement ensued. Exclamations of astonishment were heard on all sides, and everyone, with the exception of the French detective, the counsel for the defence, and Dr. Pye, was in commotion. They remained unmoved, the two former silent and watchful, the latter exhibiting not the least trace of agitation. In the midst of this excited scene loud exclamations were heard outside the court, where the people appeared to have caught the contagion, and presently the policemen near the door leading to the public thoroughfare were seen to be busily forcing a passage for the entrance of two persons, one a little girl, carried in the arms of detective Lambert, the other a man, white and emaciated, reclining in the arms of two constables. As they came into view a shriek from Mrs. Death resounded through the Court.

"Abel! Abel!" she screamed, and her frenzied cry was followed by an interval of dead silence.

Abel Death raised his head, and looked at his wife with a wan, affectionate smile; and Gracie, with a strange glitter in her large black eyes, cried in a hoarse voice,

"It's all right, mother! It's all right, Dick! I said I'd find father, didn't I?"

Mr. Pallaret: "Let these witnesses be brought forward to this table, where they will have more breathing space. I must ask your worship to excuse me while I speak privately to them."

Abel Death, who was very weak, was accommodated with a seat at the table, where he reclined, with a cushion at his back; Gracie, holding his hand, sat by his side; and between them and Mr. Pallaret and Lambert, a whispered conference was held, lasting several minutes. The conference over, Mr. Pallaret addressed the magistrate:

"The proceedings in this case have been somewhat irregular, but not less irregular than I anticipated when I opened the defence. My object, as I informed your worship, was to obtain, not an adjournment of the case, but the immediate acquittal of the accused. I made the observation that the only evidence against Mr. Reginald Boyd was that given by the person who calls himself Dr. Pye, and it will not be disputed that his evidence is entirely discredited. Nay, I will go farther and say that it was fabricated for the purpose of weaving so strong a case of circumstantial evidence against two innocent men as to practically ensure their conviction of a crime which they did not commit. With respect to Mr. Richard Remington, you have heard the strange but true story of the part he has played in this mystery. When he was caught last Monday night in Catchpole Square his appeals to his captors to hurry into the house for the purpose of arresting the two men who were searching for treasure there while, disguised to resemble the wax figure of the Chinaman, he was seated in its chair, was doubtless regarded by many in this court as a mere invention; but I shall now be able to prove that it was no invention, and at the same time to establish the truth of the story I have related to you. The proof will be forthcoming in the evidence of this brave little girl, Gracie Death, who has played a part in this strange mystery as adventurous and romantic as that of Richard Remington himself. After she has given her evidence I shall call her father, Mr. Abel Death, if he is strong enough, to relate what he knows. He has, as it were, risen from the grave, and thanks to his brave little daughter, is enabled to make his appearance here to-day. I shudder to think what might have been his fate had the vile conspiracy I am unmasking been allowed to proceed, and had the conspirators been allowed to leave the court. In a charge so serious, and in circumstances so strange and unprecedented, I am confident that your worship and my learned friend for the prosecution will allow me every latitude; and in furtherance of this appeal I ask to be permitted to suspend the examination of Monsieur Joseph Pitou, for the purpose of examining the two new witnesses who are manifestly unfit to remain for a long time in the air of this Court."

Mr. Marlow: "I have no objection to offer."

"I thank my learned friend. Let Gracie Death go into the witness box."

But before this could be done Gracie was seized with a fit of coughing which terribly shook her slight frame. There were few among the spectators that did not pity the child, who made brave efforts to check the cough, and who, when it was over, looked lovingly at her mother, and said,

"It's all right, mother, don't you worry about it; only I've had to hold it back so long!"

Then, all eyes upon her, she was assisted into the witness box, and a stool placed for her to stand upon, Detective Lambert stationing himself by her side to render her assistance if she needed it. When the Bible was handed to her the magistrate asked if she understood the nature of an oath; she replied that she was to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that she didn't mean to tell anything else. This being deemed satisfactory she was sworn, and her examination proceeded with.

"What is your name?"

"Gracie Death."

"How old are you?"

"I shall be thirteen soon, sha'n't I, mother?"

"You left your home last Tuesday morning?"

"Yes, sir, I did, and I was sorry for mother because I knew she'd worry. But I had to."

"Why?"

"Because of Dick."

The Magistrate: "Who is Dick?"

"Dick Remington, my lordship."

The magistrate was not the only one who smiled at the form of this reply.

"What had Dick to do with your leaving your home? Tell us as much as you can?"

"Well, sir, Dick and me had gone partners to find father, and to find out who murdered Samuel Boyd. I was sure father didn't do it, though a lot of people was wicked enough to say so, and Dick was sure Mr. Reginald didn't do it, and I believed what Dick believed, so I was sure, too. Dick was the captain of the ship, and I was first mate. He gave me things to do, and I did 'em as well as I could. I found out that Dr. Vinsen wasn't Dr. Vinsen at all, but Ezra Lynn, a money-lender. I always knew he was no good-yes, I did, mother! And I caught the sham doctor talking to Mr. Rawdon, the ironmonger, the man that was on the jury, and I saw him go into his shop. Well, when I saw the notice posted up in Catchpole Square that Dick had gone away, I couldn't make it out, though I knew that Dick was doing the right thing-he always does, you know-but I didn't like to be left out of it. I went to Mrs. Inspector Robson, who's been I can't tell you how kind to me-and so has Mr. Inspector Robson and that poor young lady there-but she couldn't say where Dick was, and I was that worried you'd hardly believe. Wait a bit, please-there's that cough of mine coming back again." After a silence of a minute or so, except for the hollow, rasping sounds she made, she said, with an odd kind of pathetic resignation, "It's taking it out of me now because I wouldn't let it have its way when it wanted to. I didn't dare, you know. Well, I worried and worried, and last Monday night I had my dream again."

"What dream?"

"About father. I've had it I don't know how many times, and every time father's come crying out to me to save him and to look for him in Catchpole Square. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I kept on thinking and thinking about it, and then I heard that Dick was taken up for the murder, and I had him to save as well as father. He'd been caught coming out of the house, where he'd been watching since Friday, so I says to myself, 'What Dick can do I can do,' and I makes up my mind to watch as he'd done, on the chance of catching the murderers. Dick said they'd been there, you know, and if they come once they might come again, all the more now that Dick was out of the way. That's where I've been from Tuesday night up till now."

"How did you get into the house?"

"Didn't Dick tell you? It's through the next house, where you can push open the door at the bottom of the steps. Then you go down to the cellar, and there's some bricks in the wall that you can take out and put back again. That's the way you get into the cellar of Samuel Boyd's house. There's a trap door in the ceiling that you can reach by standing on a broken chair; you push it up and scramble through, and there you are in Samuel Boyd's kitchen. I showed it to Dick, and perhaps he made use of it when he didn't want anybody to know how he got in and out of Mr. Boyd's house. And you can put everything back that artful that it'd take a clever one to find it out. So there I was in the house, with a loaf of bread that I bought with some money Dick give me. The water was on, and with that and the bread there was no fear of my starving for a little while. Nobody come on Tuesday night, and I kept myself snug. And nobody come on Wednesday. But I wouldn't give it up as a bad job, and I kept on watching and listening all day yesterday. Well, I don't know how late in the night it was, but I think it must have been two or three in the morning, when I heard somebody talking to somebody else in the downstairs passage. They talked very soft, but I heard 'em, and then they crept upstairs, and I slips into my hiding place, and watches through a chink. For I says to myself, 'If they come anywhere they'll come into the office.'"

"Where was your hiding place?"

"You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room, and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in, without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the ground. I knew why they did that-so that the light couldn't be seen through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them."

"Did you know them?"

"One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though."

"We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see the other man?"

Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a question.

Gracie: "Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?"

Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, "It is Dr. Pye," whereupon an officer cried, "Order in the court!" But, irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.

Gracie: "That is the other man."

Mr. Pallaret: "Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain."

Gracie: "I am. The other man in Dr. Pye."

Mr. Pallaret: "Still you may be mistaken?"

Gracie: "I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't another man in the world like him."

Mr. Pallaret: "Well, you saw them. What happened next?"

Gracie: "They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to talk louder. Dr. Vinsen-I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't his proper name, but it comes easier-he said it was madness to come into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute. He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office-father used to tell of it-and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again, 'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr. Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr. Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil! Soon afterwards I heard father's name-I don't know which one spoke it-and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them leaving the room."

Mr. Pallaret: "Stop a moment or two, and get your breath."

Gracie: "Let me go on, please-I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he feeling any better?"

Mr. Pallaret: "Yes. With your permission, your worship."

A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and kissed him, sobbing,

"Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!"

No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,

"Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!"

In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained; she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her again and again.

"You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?" asked Gracie, in a low tone. "If I hadn't, father might never have been found."

"My darling, my darling!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "It was I who was wrong-you were right all through."

"Never mind that now, mother," Gracie said. "Let me go on, or the gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!"

Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, "I should like to do something for that little heroine," the ushers forgot to cry, "Silence in the court!"

Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's tender clasp): "May I go on, now, sir?"

Mr. Pallaret: "Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving the room.'"

Gracie: "I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and through the door of the little room into the passage. They were downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch 'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool-you've spilt 'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole. Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went, without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read, that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir, though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father. 'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he answered. 'It's little Gracie!'"

Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr. Pallaret addressed the court:

"Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with pity and horror-except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds. Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court."

The Magistrate: "Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be taken into my room, and every attention paid to them."

When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.

Mr. Pallaret: "We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings this morning in connection with this case."

Detective Lambert: "From information received shortly after the case was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death, who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr. Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time, and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility; that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure; that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received, that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from the point at which Gracie Death left it.

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Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

CHAPTER LXIV
A STARTLING DENOUEMENT

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Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

CHAPTER LXIVA STARTLING DENOUEMENT

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CHAPTER LXIV
A STARTLING DENOUEMENT