"Nevertheless, a fiend in human form entered this room last night under cover of the darkness and attempted to murder me by vicious strangling!" "Heavens! Is this so?" "You have the evidence!" exclaimed the physician, pointing to his bared throat with the print of the strangler's fingers. "This is most mysterious!" ejaculated Edmund Clarke, in wonder and distress, while the physician continued: "Last night I retired and slept soundly until after midnight, when I was aroused by the horrible sensation of steely fingers gripping my throat with deadly force. Vainly gasping for my failing breath, I struggled with the intruder, who held on with a maniacal strength, panting with fury as I clutched in my arms a form that I immediately knew to be that of a woman, soft, warm, palpitating, though her strength was certainly equal to that of a man. We grappled in a terrible struggle, and I clutched my fingers in her long hair, causing her such pain that, with a stifled moan, she released my throat, struck me in the face, and fled before I could regain my senses, that deserted me at the critical moment." "This is most mysterious, most shocking! No wonder you are anxious to leave Cliffdene, where you so nearly met your death. But this must be sifted to the bottom at once, and the lunatic identified, for it could be no other than a lunatic. I will have the whole household summoned. We will question every servant closely!" cried Clarke eagerly, turning to ring the bell. But Doctor Jay stopped him, saying: "Wait till I question you on the subject. Have you in your employ a woman with red hair?" "What a question! But, no. My women servants are all gray-haired or black-haired, with one exception. That is Roma's maid, a pretty little blonde, with the palest flaxen curls." He looked inquiringly at the doctor, who replied: "After my struggle was over and I was able to light a lamp, I found entangled in my fingers some threads of hair--beautiful long strands of ruddy hair, copperish red in the full light." He took an envelope from his breast, and drew from it a ruddy strand of long hair, holding it up to the light of the window, where it shone with a rich copper tint. "My God!" groaned Edmund Clarke. "You recognize the hair?" cried Doctor Jay. "It is Roma's hair!" was the anguished answer. "I thought so!" "You thought so! Is the girl, then, a lunatic, or a fiend? And what motive could she have to take your life--an old man, who has never harmed her in his blameless life?" cried the host, in consternation. Edmund Clarke had never been confronted with such a terrible problem of crime in his life. His face paled to an ashen hue, and his eyes almost glared as he stared helplessly at his friend. "I have a theory!" cried Doctor Jay. "What is it?" "The girl must have overheard our conversation last night." "Impossible!" "Why?" Mr. Clarke revolved the matter silently in his mind for a moment, then answered: