Humphrey's visit marked a turning point in the mysterious case of the "Friends of the Poor." His famous photograph was published in the Times and created a considerable stir. Fortunately, in the newspaper reproduction only the prominent features were discernible, and as at Forrester's request the reporter had omitted any reference to the perplexing details which he had discovered, these possible clues remained unknown to the police and public. All the newspapers showed a tendency to ridicule and censure the police for their misdirected activity, which aroused the department to redoubled efforts in the solution of the case. This was further accentuated by pressure brought to bear upon the chief of police, and even the mayor himself, by various civic associations which had become alarmed at the inability of the police to protect wealthy citizens from this terrible menace.

A small army of detectives was assigned to the case, and as Green expressed it, "You can't turn a corner without steppin' on some bull's toes." Police activity was largely expended in the form of espionage upon persons who had in any way been connected with the case, and careful investigation of all people who lived in the vicinity of the oak tree. Green reported to Forrester that a man who was unquestionably a detective was keeping the Forrester estate under surveillance, and Forrester discovered that a detective was steadily on guard at the tree.

That the "Friends of the Poor" were undaunted by this display of police action, and were prepared to flaunt their power in the very faces of the police, was shown by the fact that one morning the detective who had been on watch at the tree the night before was found dead. The police surgeon stated it to be a clear case of asphyxiation, although how such a thing had been accomplished in the open air he was not prepared to say. This tragedy, however, terminated all efforts of the police to keep an open watch over the tree, for it was evident that the mysterious force which was at work could not be reached in this way.

On the same day Green had come to Forrester in a state of great dejection. The detective had found one of the familiar wrapping paper notes pinned to his chair in the pergola, which read:

To Detective Green and Robert Forrester:

You have but ten days to live.

Friends of the Poor.

Following the death of the detective at the tree, the negress, Lucy, was arrested on suspicion, and Forrester learned from the newspapers that the police had thoroughly ransacked her home in a search for incriminating evidence, but without results. Forrester was impressed, when he read this report, by the fact that Lucy persistently refused to give any information regarding herself. As had been the situation at the time of the reputed murder of her husband, there was absolutely no evidence against her, and the police were forced to release her. To Forrester, however, she still held her position as a possible though puzzling element in the case.

Forrester also read with indignation that detectives had visited Mary Sturtevant, closely questioning everyone in her household. Not a breath of suspicion was raised against her as a result of this investigation, which pleased Forrester, though it still further bewildered him in his surmises regarding the girl. What chance had he in unearthing something which a direct police investigation could not disclose? Forrester had not seen Mary Sturtevant for some days, but this incident impelled him to call on her, so early in the evening he took his roadster and drove over to the girl's house.

Mary Sturtevant's apparent coldness toward him at their recent meetings had worried Forrester, and he was greatly relieved when her greeting was more cordial than ever and she showed every indication of pleasure at seeing him.

"Robert," she said, as he drew his chair close to hers and sat down, "I had about come to the conclusion that you had taken my advice and gone away."

"You know," replied Forrester, "that I will not leave here until this case is solved—unless you promise to go with me."

"That is impossible," she returned. "I am in no danger—not even from the police," and she glanced at him with one of her old mischievous smiles. Then added, gravely, "But you are risking your life every day that you remain here."

"Mary," protested Forrester, "your attitude in this matter is inexplicable. Won't you confide in me and let me help you?"

"Some day, Robert," she declared, earnestly, "I shall probably be able to explain to you; but please for the present, say no more about it."

While absolutely certain of his own feelings toward her, Forrester was still doubtful about her attitude toward him. The fact that she continued to use his given name when they were alone encouraged him. Beyond that, however, she gave little or no evidence of how she felt toward him. Forrester was unwilling, therefore, to risk offending her by further talk upon a subject which she so urgently requested him to drop. He turned the conversation to other matters in which they were mutually interested.

At ten o'clock Forrester rose to go, and the girl accompanied him to the foot of the steps. There she held out her hand and as he took it, she said, pleadingly, "Please, Robert, won't you go away for a little while?"

Forrester leaned over and touched his lips to her hand.

"No," he returned shortly, and jumped into his car.

As he drove along Jasper lane Forrester was startled to hear a sharp report behind him. It echoed through the still woods and for a moment he thought that someone had fired a shot at him, but the immediate jarring of his car signified that one of the rear tires had blown out. He stopped the car, shut off the engine, and after adjusting the spotlight so that he could see to work, threw his coat into the car and started the job of changing tires.

He had nearly completed the task when he was suddenly seized in a strong grip and something placed over his face!

Though taken at a disadvantage, and aware, from the peculiar odor which assailed his nostrils, that his opponent was endeavoring to render him unconscious by some sort of gas or drug, Forrester did not give up hope but fought back courageously. His arms had been pinioned at his sides, however, and he found it impossible to do more than struggle in the grasp of his attacker. Realizing that he must soon lose consciousness, Forrester made a supreme effort and succeeded in wrenching his arms free. His first thought being to get air, he grasped at the object over his face in an effort to pull it away. It was too late, for he already felt faint and weak and could not exert the necessary strength.

Then he dimly heard several explosions like pistol shots and everything became blank.

Forrester slowly opened his eyes and stared straight ahead for a minute or two, trying to recollect what had happened and where he was. He was in bed, but the room, so far as he could see in the dim light of a distant, shaded lamp, was unfamiliar.

"Oh, Robert," cried a voice, "are you all right? How do you feel? Speak to me!"

Languidly he turned his head and recognized Mary Sturtevant sitting by the bedside. Then he discovered that one of his hands was held tightly in both of hers.

"What has happened?" he queried, weakly.

"You met with an accident," she answered. "The doctor said we got there just in time. You must not talk about it now, or ask any questions."

She dropped his hand, and jumping up, hurried across the room. In a moment she returned with a glass, and holding his head up with one hand, placed the glass at his lips.

"Drink this," she ordered.

Forrester drank a little from the glass and then she let his head drop gently back on the pillow and sat down beside him. He watched her dreamily for a moment or two, finally dropping off to sleep.

When Forrester again awoke the bright morning sun was streaming in through a window at the foot of his bed. The first thing he saw was the big colored man, Joshua, rocking in a chair near the window and crooning to himself. Forrester tried to sit up, but found that he was very weak. His effort attracted the attention of the negro.

"Yo' jes' lie still, Boss. Dem's mah orders."

"Hello, Joshua!" said Forrester, and was surprised at the feebleness of his voice when he tried to speak. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah belong heah, Boss. Dis am Mistah Bradbury's house."

Forrester was puzzled. He knew that "Mr. Bradbury's house" was where Mary Sturtevant lived.

"How did I get here, Joshua?" he inquired.

"Ah guess de hants done got yo', Boss. Mah Missey an' me done fine yo' layin' in de road in front of dat tree wif a rubber t'ing in yo' han'."

"A rubber thing?" exclaimed Forrester. "What do you mean?"

"Ah dunno what it is, Boss."

"Where is it now?" asked Forrester.

"We-all done got it downstairs, Boss. Ah'll get it and show yo'."

Joshua left the room. He returned presently with a large, circular piece of rubber which he placed in Forrester's hands. Forrester examined it carefully. He found that it was flexible, somewhat oval in form, and concave. At the back a piece of light rubber tubing, about one foot in length, was attached. Forrester placed the rubber over his face for a moment and found that its form made it fit like a mask. He withdrew it hastily when he heard an exclamation at his side. It was Mary Sturtevant, and as Forrester glanced up he saw her looking at him with startled eyes.

"Joshua!" she cried, turning to the negro, "how did Mr. Forrester get that?"

"Ah done brung it to him, mam."

The girl seized the piece of rubber from Forrester and handing it to Joshua, directed, "Take it away instantly, Joshua. Put it in my room."

"Yassum!" and Joshua darted out of the room, mumbling to himself.

The events of the night came back to Forrester quite clearly now.

"Was that the thing my assailant used on me last night?" he asked, looking up at the girl.

"Yes," she returned, "but you mustn't talk about it."

"But I want to talk about it," he exclaimed. "And I want it for evidence!"

"Robert," she said seriously, "you must not tell a soul about what happened last night, or refer to that piece of rubber. It is absolutely vital that you do this for me. Please promise."

"I'll consider it," he said, "if you will tell me the whole story of what happened."

"I am willing to tell you that," she returned, "but first you must have your breakfast. I can tell you the story while you are eating. It is very short."

She left the room, returning in a few minutes with a tray. After assisting Forrester to sit up in bed, and arranging the pillows at his back, she placed the tray in his lap. As he ate, she explained to him what had happened.

"After you left, I stood on the steps listening to the hum of your engine as you drove away. I was worried, Robert, to think of your recklessness in driving around alone at night under the present circumstances. Suddenly, I heard a report like a pistol shot, and as I could no longer hear the sound of your engine, I feared that something had happened to you.

"Calling Joshua, we ran along the road in the direction you had taken. We soon saw the lights of your car, and I could see that two men were struggling in the road. I knew that one of them must be you. I have always carried my little automatic with me since I came to live in this lonely neighborhood. Taking it out, I fired several shots in the air as I ran. That frightened the man who was attacking you and he fled.

"Joshua carried you back to the house, and I telephoned for a doctor. The doctor said that an attempt had been made to asphyxiate you. If we had been a minute or two later he could not have saved you."

"My God!" cried Forrester, receiving a shocking revelation. "The 'Friends of the Poor'! That is how their victims have been killed! How did you get that mask of death, Mary?"

"You had seized it with a deathlike grip. The doctor could hardly get it out of your hands. When the man fled he had to break the tubing to carry the rest of the apparatus away."

"What a wonderful piece of evidence!" exclaimed Forrester.

"Yes," admitted the girl, "but against whom will you use it?"