"No? And yet it is easy enough. If those who slew Mr. Alymer wanted his body, they could have stolen it on the high road, where they struck him down. It was mere foolishness to venture liberty and life in a raid upon the house." "It may have been an afterthought." "People don't have afterthoughts in grim matters of this kind," said Arkel, rising. "Well, major, good-by, good-by. Should I learn anything else I shall let you know; but depend upon it, the truth of the matter is to come from Jaggard." "He is honest. Honest!" cried Jen. "I'll stake my existence upon that." When riding homeward after this interesting conversation, the major could not but admit to himself that Arkel had brightened up wonderfully in his intellects since first taking charge of the case. The man was not brilliant, not even clever; yet in the present instance he displayed more readiness of resource than Jen would have given him credit for. The theory of the drugging was worthy of investigation, and the major determined to see if anything could be discovered likely to support this view of the matter. He still held to his belief in Jaggard's honesty, for it was incredible that an old servant of thirty years' standing should turn traitor at once; but he thought it probable that someone might have taken him by surprise and drugged him. But as the window was closed the person in question must have been concealed in the room. Here Jen's train of thought became confused. "I don't see how anybody can have been in the room," he reflected, as he entered his house. "I saw that all was safe myself at midnight. The servants were abed, Sampson keeping vigil in the kitchen, and Jaggard sentry in the death-room. Moreover, I left the library door open, and the sound of footsteps stealing to the door of my poor lad would have wakened me out of the deepest sleep. Isabella's raps were light enough, yet I was up on the instant. No, I can't see myself that the devil who drugged the man could have been in the house; and yet the window opened from the inside. H'm! it is strange; very strange. I wish Jaggard were able to talk sensibly." But Jaggard was far from the condition of connected thought or coherent words. He turned and tossed upon his poor bed with bright eyes, burning skin and babbling tongue. His head was swathed in bandages, and the housemaid who watched beside him had frequently to replace the clothes he tossed off in his violent movements. This nurse was a sickly, dark-eyed creature, who was strongly attached to Jaggard; and it was her love for him that made her proffer her services to look after him, and that chained her to his bedside. She reported to her master that Dr. Etwald had been in that morning, and was coming again in the afternoon, but that there was nothing to be done until the delirium had expended itself. "Ay," thought Jen, as he stood by the bed, "or until the man dies. If he dies without regaining his senses, we will never know the truth."