from the bed and essayed to rise. After a few thoughts I succeeded, and then feeling dizzy, I managed to totter to a chair. I had hardly sat down when the door opened and Sir Charles Venner stood before me. "Good morning, Mr. Hume," said he, in quite a genial voice. "I am glad to find you so much better after your distressing journey here!" "Are you?" I muttered stupidly. I was overcome with surprise at his curious change of manner. "Indeed, yes," he replied, and he smiled. "Do you feel well enough for breakfast?" I nodded. "Then permit me to assist you. Ah, good! Now take my arm." He helped me, dumb with astonishment, out of the room and along a passage into a fine old dining-hall, that might have been part and parcel of some medieval chateau, so quaintly and elegantly was it furnished. I could afford it no more than a glance, however, for seated at table there were Dr. Fulton, Dr. Venner, and Marion Le Mar, now Lady Dagmar. At the sight of the beautiful woman whom I had so passionately loved, I cried out loudly, and stood still. Her face was pale. She was attired in deep mourning, and her eyes were resolutely downcast. Sir Charles Venner uttered a low, cynical little laugh. "Quite a meeting of the clans!" he remarked. "But come, Hume, I am certain you are hungry." Leaning heavily on his arm, I staggered to the table and sank into a chair. "Marion!" I gasped, looking at her straight and full. Very slowly she raised her eyes, and returned my glance with a look of cold disdain. I thought her a thief and a traitress, and yet my eyes fell before her gaze. "Will you try some oatmeal, Hume?" asked Sir Charles Venner, who had taken the head of the table. "No, thank you." "Then, some ham and eggs?" "Please." Beudant entered the room. "The grave is dug, master," he announced. I looked at Sir Charles. He was biting his under lip, and curiously regarding me. "Whose?" I demanded. "Yours and Lady Dagmar's!" he replied with a sneer. I looked at Marion. She was calmly eating her breakfast. "This is some ghastly joke!" I cried. Marion glanced up and smiled. "Say cynical, monsieur," she murmured quietly. "My good friend, Sir Charles Venner, persists in believing that we love each other--you and I--in spite of the fact that scarcely a month ago I deserted you in order to marry Sir William Dagmar." "On his death-bed, madame!" cut in Sir Charles, in tones of ice. "You forget that you are now a rich young widow." "Well, sir?" "And that you have steadily refused to account to me for his money, which should have been placed, long ere this, at the disposal of our order." "Sir William Dagmar bound me with an oath as he lay dying----" "You have told me that story before," interrupted Sir Charles. Marion shrugged her shoulders, and put into her mouth a morsel of bread. "Go on someone!" I cried impatiently. "See! I am utterly in your power. Why not enlighten me? Surely you are not afraid!" Beudant placed beside my plate a cup of coffee.