Geoffrey had no words for a time. Slowly the hideousness of the plot was beginning to beat in upon him. Mrs. May had mentioned bees to her mysterious companion, who had so remarkable a likeness to Marion, and by a strange chance Ralph Ravenspur had the same morning, at breakfast, mentioned a certain Asiatic bee, whose poison and whose honey were fatal to human life.

"Ah," said Geoffrey slowly, "the bees Mrs. May mentioned."

"Precisely, my boy. And the bees that I mentioned also. Tchigorsky found the dog but a minute or two ago. He slipped downstairs with me the minute we heard the wagonette drive away. He was very anxious to see the hives. Directly he caught sight of Tut lying there he knew what had happened. He has gone to my room for something. When he comes back he will have something to show you."

Tchigorsky entered the room a moment later. He had in his hand a small cardboard box with a glass lid. Inside something was buzzing angrily. It was an insect, the wings of which moved so rapidly that they seemed to scream, as a house fly does when the falces of a spider close upon him.

"Have a good look at it," Tchigorsky said curtly.

"Is it dangerous?" Geoffrey asked.

"One of the most deadly of winged insects," the Russian said. "It is a black bee from the forests near Lassa. There is a larger variety, whose sting produces the most horrible sufferings and death. This sort injects a poison which stops the action of the heart like prussic acid, but without the rigidity caused by that poison. The Lassa black bee invades other bees' nests and preys on their honey. They frighten the other bees, which make no attempt to drive them out, but go on working as usual. Then gradually the whole hive gets impregnated with that poison, and an ordinary brown bee becomes as dangerous as a black one. This is the bee that killed your dog."

"Then the hives are already impregnated," Geoffrey cried.

"Precisely. Half a dozen of these black bees have been introduced into the hives. Now, do you begin to understand the malignity of the plot? Your dog was not dead when, with my net, I caught this fellow—I expected to catch him."

"And ran great risk in doing so."

"Of course. It was a recreation compared with some of the risks I have run."

"You are right there," Ralph said in his deep, croaking tones. "Look at the thing, Geoffrey."

With a shudder Geoffrey took the box in his hand. There was nothing formidable about the insect under the glass lid. It had more anger and fury, more "devil" than the ordinary bee, but it was very little larger, of a deep, lustrous black, with orange eyes and purple gauzy wings. There was nothing weird about it.

"Was it imported for the purpose?" Geoffrey asked.

"Undoubtedly," Ralph replied. "Imported by the woman who calls herself Mrs. May. Before she came over to England she must have had this house described to her with the greatest minuteness. Otherwise she could not have so many instruments ready to her hand; she would never have thought of these bees, for instance.

"If this scheme had not been discovered everybody in the house would have been stung before long, and every one assuredly would have died. Those black bees are exceedingly fierce, and do not hesitate to attack everybody and everything. Their sting is so sharp and so minute that it leaves no mark and no pain. Half an hour passes, and then the victim falls down and dies."

Geoffrey regarded the specimen with new interest. He eyed it up and down as if examining a cobra through the glass sides of its prison house. Tchigorsky took the box and flattened the lid down until the insect within was no more than a red smash on the glass. A little later and the thing was pitched over the cliffs into the sea.

"It is a dreadful business," Geoffrey said. "And, indeed, it seems almost hopeless to try to combat foes so ruthless, so resourceful, and so daring as ours. No sooner are we out of one horror than we are into another."

"While life lasts there is always hope," said Tchigorsky.

"That's true," said Geoffrey, more cheerfully. "At any rate we can avert the danger now. But how are we going to get rid of those things?"

"We are going to catch them," said Tchigorsky grimly. "We shall have to destroy all the other bees, I am afraid, and we shall be compelled to let Miss Vera draw her own conclusions as to the cause of the mischief."

"And the honey, Mr. Tchigorsky?"

"Oh, the honey will be all right. That hasn't been stung, you know. I have tasted honey from a nest which the black bees have invaded, and have been none the worse for it. We had better surmise that for some inscrutable reason the bees have deserted their quarters. And we shall propose to know nothing at all about the matter. I flatter myself we shall puzzle the enemy as completely as our friends."

The matter was discussed in all its bearings until the light began to fail and the glow faded gradually from out of the sky.

Then, after locking the inner door of the morning room, Ralph produced two large gauze frames, some matches, and powdered sulphur. This, with a small bellows, completed the stock in trade.

Tchigorsky immediately set about his task in a workmanlike manner. The bees were all in the two hives by this time. Over the hole in front of each a square of muslin was fastened, a pile of sulphur in front was lighted, and the fumes were gently wafted into the hole with the aid of the pair of miniature bellows.

There was an angry murmur from within, the murmur of droning insects, then the quick scream of churning wings. The little strip of muslin was strained by alarmed and infuriated bees striving to escape. But not for long. Gradually the noise died down, and Tchigorsky signed to Geoffrey to help him carry the hive into the house.

There it was deposited on a table and the top lifted off. Instantly the gauze frame was placed over it, and with a brush Tchigorsky swept out the stagnant insects into a glass-topped box provided for the purpose. On the whole, there was not much danger, but it was just as well to be on the safe side.

"Not one left," said Tchigorsky, after he had made a careful investigation. "But it's quite as well to be certain. I've put those insects into the box, but I don't fancy that any of them will revive. Now for the other one."

The other hive was treated in similar fashion. There was no hitch and finally the frame was replaced as if nothing had happened, with the exception that the tiny occupants were no more. In the glass boxes, among the piles of dead bees, Geoffrey could see here and there the form of a black insect. From his coat pocket Tchigorsky produced some long, thin strips of lead, which he proceeded to wind round the boxes containing the bees.

"There," he exclaimed, "that job is done at last, and a nasty one it has been. To prevent any further mischief I'll just step across the terrace and throw these over into the sea. He moved off into the darkness, and as he did so there came the sound of a fresh young voice that startled Geoffrey and Ralph as if they had been criminals caught red-handed in some crime.

"Geoffrey, Geoffrey, where are you?" the voice cried.

Ralph stepped across and closed the window as Vera entered. It was quite dark outside, and Ralph hoped that Tchigorsky would see without being seen. Vera flashed a look of gentle reproach at her lover.

"How can you look me in the face after the way in which you have treated me?" she asked. "This is the first day's pleasure we have had for years, and you——"

"Did not care to leave Uncle Ralph," Geoffrey said. "He seemed so lonely that I felt I could not let him remain like this."

"Geoffrey is a good fellow," Ralph muttered.

Vera bent and kissed Geoffrey fondly. She smiled without any show of anger.

"I forgive him," she said. "Still, I did miss him. Where are you going, dear?"

"Across the terrace," Geoffrey replied. "I'll be in to supper directly. It's all ready, and there is Marion calling you. I'm coming."

Tchigorsky had crept to the window. He caught Geoffrey's eye and waved to him vigorously. It was a sign that he wanted assistance at once.