But Reggie was already running upstairs. One room and another he tried in vain and at last at the top of the house found a locked door. The key was in the lock. Inside on a pallet bed, but clothed, lay a little man with some days’ beard. The woman thrust Reggie away and flung herself down by the bedside and gathered the man to her bosom moaning over him. “My lord, my lord.” “Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie Fortune. “Now, Miss Jacob, please,” he put his hand on her shoulder. “He is mine,” she said fiercely. “Well, just now he’s mine. I’m a doctor.” “Oh, is he not dead?” she cried. “Not exactly,” said Reggie Fortune. “Not yet.” He took the body from quivering arms. “What is it, then?” “He is drugged, and I should say starved. If you----” a heavy footstep drew near. She sprang up ready for battle, and in the doorway fell upon Superintendent Bell. “Easy, easy,” he received her on his large chest and made sure of her wrists. “Mr. Fortune--just got in by the window--what about this?” “That’s all right,” Reggie mumbled from the bed. “Send me Sam.” “Coming, sir.” Sam ran in. “Those fellows didn’t do a getaway. They’re outed. Car smash. Both killed. Some smash.” “Brandy, meat juice, ammonia,” murmured Mr. Fortune, who was writing, “and that. Hurry.” “Beg pardon, ma’am,” Bell detached himself from Melitta Jacob. He took off his hat and tiptoed to the bed. “Have they done for him, sir,” he muttered. Mr. Fortune was again busy over the senseless body. One of its hands was clenched. He opened the fingers gently, and drew out a greenish lump painted with a zigzag pattern in red. “The magic stone,” he said. “A charm against death. Well, well.” * * * * * On his lawn which slopes to the weir stream Reggie Fortune lay in a deck chair, and a syringa, waxen white, shed its fragrance about him. He opened his eyes to see the jaunty form of the Hon. Sidney Lomas tripping towards him. “Stout fellow,” he murmured. “That’s cider cup. There was ice in it once,” and he shut his eyes again. “I infer that the patient is out of your hands.” “They’re going for their honeymoon to Nigeria.” “Good Gad,” said Lomas. “Collecting, you see. The objects of art of the noble savage. She’s rather a dear.” “I should have thought he’d done enough collecting. Does he understand yet what happened?” “Oh, he’s quite lucid. Seems to think it’s all very natural.” “Does he though?” “Only he’s rather annoyed with brother George. He thinks brother George had no right to object to his marrying. That’s what started it, you see. Brother George came round to borrow his usual hundred or so and found him with the magnificent Melitta. It occurred to brother George that if Tetherdown was going to marry, something had to be done about it. And then I suppose brother George consulted the late Jerdan.” Mr. Fortune opened his eyes, and raised himself. “By the way, who was Jerdan? I saw you hushed up the inquest as a motor smash.”