The second floor of the inn where Martin and Hall lodged had once been used as a ball-room, but this either did not pay or suit the present proprietor who had partitioned it off into three good-sized rooms. One of these Martin occupied and Hall the others.

It was about nine o'clock when Blount entered Martin's room.

Sitting in front of the fire in the next apartment was Hall, musing over the past and planning for the future—a future that looked exceedingly bright and promising.

There was no light in the room, except from the open fire; the door was partly open. Suddenly he was aroused by Blount's entrance, and then his attention was especially attracted by hearing his name mentioned.

The inn-keeper had done his own joiner-work and the partitions were all but transparent, and Hall stepping softly to the partition, heard Blount very plainly continue:

"They are all there I think—just as Golden had them the night he was murdered by our cunning friend Hall."

The eavesdropper started back in alarm, but could not resist the temptation to listen to the story.

"I found 'The Knifer' easy enough in Leith, and got the papers on him," Blount was saying. "He admitted the robbery of the papers and draft in Harley Street, and Morgan got back to-night with the diamond broker who bought the diamonds. He had a tough job, but finally persuaded him to come, and he's down-stairs with Morgan now."

Again Hall started back in alarm. They were very close on him, and he paused irresolutely. The story coming through the partition was rapidly depriving him of his nerve, and happening to look through the window, he saw a man on the opposite side of the road looking up. He was being waited for; they did not know he was in. How long would they wait before coming to his room?

Back to the partition once more he crept, and listened to Blount's confirmation of this idea.

"We will wait for a little while before going to his room. They were not sure down-stairs whether he had returned, and I didn't want to alarm him until I had seen you. However, there's no chance for him to get away. Morgan's down-stairs, O'Brien is in front, and another man at the rear."

Hemmed in completely—every avenue closed. It was clear that the chain of evidence must be complete—they were so confident, too, of getting him.

He went to a cupboard, took out a bottle of brandy, and poured out a moderate drink. After drinking the liquor, Hall began to pace the floor, which, unlike the partitions, was solid, and his quick nervous step made no sound.

"Trapped! Cornered like a rat! Well, cornered rats are dangerous, gentlemen! Look out! you haven't killed it yet!"

Pausing, a little back from the window, he looked out and saw the man in the same position. Then he resumed his walk, more like a caged tiger than a human being.

"One down-stairs, one in front, one in the rear and this one up-stairs! Four man-hunters! Let me see!"

Stopping, he opened his trunk and took out a pair of pistols, which he laid on the table.

"Four! If it was in the open—But pshaw! What difference would one or two make! I'm trapped! The game is over and I've lost! Lost!" he repeated hoarsely. "Lost! Lost everything—a fortune, a good name and a beautiful wife! An hour ago it was castles! Now it's gibbets! Kate! Kate! But for her I would not mind it so much!"

His face changed for a moment and became softened, but quickly resumed its former demonical expression as he resumed his walk.

"You've trapped me—Yes! But the rope never was made to hang me! I'm prepared for that at any rate! Never! No trial! No rope! No morbid fool's curiosity!"

Stopping again, he poured out more liquor.

"The next one will be time enough," he murmured as he put it to his lips. Setting down the empty glass, he lighted his lamp, closed his door securely and then, after a short search, produced a small package of the same white powder which had ended the career of Golden. Placing a pinch of this in the glass Hall filled it to the top with liquor, placed his lamp near the window, lighted a cigar and sat down to wait for his visitors.

He had not long to wait—only ten minutes—but his thoughts must have covered a great deal before the expected knock came.

"Too late!" he said, with the glass to his lips. "You will have to break it in."

Then laying back in his chair he emptied the glass. He hardly moved, his head sank a little to one side, the glass fell from his hand, and so they found him.

Blount had suspected something was wrong on finding the door fastened, and did not waste a moment in breaking it down, but as the dead man had truly said—he was too late.

Doctor Fox was called, but said he could do nothing—the man was dead from prussic acid.

Notwithstanding their knowledge of the man and his crimes, all were shocked at the sudden termination of their pursuit, and none thought of retiring. Although nearly eleven o'clock, Carden returned to Hanley Hall, Martin accompanying him.

Owing to the preparations for the marriage, hasty as they were, everything was astir at the Hall, and Carden gravely told the story of the suicide.

As may be imagined, the story created great surprise and horror, and of the entire party Kate was apparently the least moved. She sat very quiet, and said but little; never addressing Martin, who also remained very quiet, and was beginning to believe himself mistaken regarding Kate's feelings toward the dead man.

However, he had a duty still to perform, and when Carden had finished he took from his pocket the stolen papers, and addressed Kate:

"These, Miss Stafford," he said, "are your property and Fred's—yours more than his. They are your uncle's will, and the other papers I spoke of, representing property to the value of—well, certainly over one hundred thousand pounds, besides a draft of twelve thousand pounds which you can obtain within a few days. All this is divided between yourself and Fred, with something in your favor."

Surprise was again general, except on Kate's part, and more than one regarded her curiously.

"Why, Kate," exclaimed Miss Fleming, "you appear to have become accustomed to these Croesus surprises!"

Mr. Stafford, agreeably astonished by this sudden access of wealth, also remarked that she took the matter very coolly; but Kate did not respond to either remark, except to say she was tired out and must leave them.

Martin, Carden and Mr. Stafford left early next morning to attend the inquest, which was quickly and quietly disposed of, and then returned to Hanley Hall in time for luncheon, where Miss Fleming and Mr. Stafford took the principal parts in carrying on the conversation.

Martin and Kate, seated side by side, exchanged but few words, and those of only the commonest civility and in a cold, repellant manner on the part of Kate.

That this had been noticed by more than one, was apparent when, after luncheon, Carden joined Martin in the library, and the latter said, with an almost plainly forced calmness:

"Fred, now that those papers have been recovered, I can't see that there's any use in my lingering here. You know all I've got, except a few hundred pounds in London, is either banked or invested in New York, and I've just read this article (extending the paper) which seems to indicate that something of a panic exists there now, with possibly worse to follow. So I'll take a run up to London, I think, and if this report is confirmed, go back to New York. I'll stop and let you know on my way to Liverpool if it's true."

Carden barely glanced at the article, and handed back the paper with a dismal smile.

"Yes," he said, "I understand. It's a good excuse, but I'm hanged if I can understand it! It's not like Kate—especially after what you've told me of the affair at Naas—and yet to-day she acted worse than a total stranger. Her mother, Jennie and myself noticed it."

"Never mind, Fred! I'm off now to London. You can account for my absence as best you can; but, at the risk of being set down for a boor, I will avoid another meeting until coming back on my way to Liverpool."

"Ah! You are going in any event!"

"Yes—it is better—much better, Fred!"

And so it was arranged. Martin was to leave at once, agreeing to return next day to Hanley Hall, whence Carden would accompany him to Liverpool.

Martin went to pack up some papers and a few articles of wearing apparel, while Carden went to inform the Staffords of Martin's intentions and the reason of his hasty departure. He found Miss Fleming alone in the drawing-room at the piano, and to her, in telling of Martin's intentions, said more than he would have to any of the family.

"Oh, yes!" she said. "It's quite plain—but don't you think, Fred, you ought to go with him to London? He might not come back at all, you know!"

"You are right, Jennie! I'll go with him." And when Martin came down a few minutes later, he found Carden prepared to accompany him and gladly acquiesced in the arrangement.

It was not until evening that Mr. and Mrs. Stafford learned of the departure of the young men, and the supposed cause, and they expressed great concern at the possibility of any misfortune happening to Martin; but to Kate it was then an old story, for Miss Fleming had been drumming it into her ears all the afternoon, never failing to broadly hint at what she unhesitatingly pronounced to be the real cause—"Kate's cruelty to Mr. Martin."

Kate endured it patiently and in silence—which caused Miss Fleming to say she was disgusted with such obstinacy, and then leave her in peace.