“Things have come to a pretty pass,” he said, bitterly, “when we, who have done those people nothing but good, should have to be warned concerning our own safety because of their sinister designs. One might imagine that we were living in the days of the Inquisition.” The girls looked scared. “What do you think they will do?” asked Gladys Milnes. “I have not the least idea. However, we need not be afraid. Fortunately there is a telephone in the house, so that I can easily ring up the police if there should be occasion to do so.” Blatz pricked up his ears, and made a mental note of the latter statement. “By-the-bye,” continued the artist slowly, “did you tie a crucifix round that little Horwitz girl’s neck, yesterday, Celia?” The girl seemed astounded. “I? No, of course not,” she answered, emphatically. “I have never possessed such a thing.” “Miss Franks is not a Roman Catholic. She does not wear baubles of that sort,” put in the vicar, who was extremely Low Church. “I thought so,” said Karne, with satisfaction. “So you see you were mistaken, Mr. Blatz.” The foreman was disconcerted. “The child wore one when she returned from the Towers, sir,” he said but half convinced. “Perhaps Miss Celia’s friend----?” Enid Wilton shook her head. “No, I had nothing to do with it either,” she said. “It is a strange occurrence.” It was indeed strange. Blatz did not know what to make of it. He could not possibly doubt the statement of the two young ladies; and yet, if neither of them had put the crucifix on the child, how had it got there? He puzzled over the question, but could find no solution; and when, after finding that his warning was futile so far as Herbert Karne was concerned, he left the Towers, the incident of the crucifix still occupied his mind. As the foreman shut the gate which led into the private road, a man sprang suddenly out of the darkness, and laid a detaining grip on his shoulder. It was Jacob Strelitzki, somewhat the worse for drink. “I thought that was what you were going to do, so I followed you up to here,” he said, with a vicious shake. “Been blabbing, I suppose, you mean sneak?” “Let me go!” cried the foreman, angrily. “I’ve been finding out the truth. You and Horwitz are on the wrong track. Mr. Karne is no more a _m’shumad_ than you are; and his sister did not put the crucifix on the child. There’s been some trickery somewhere. I should not be surprised if you had something to do with it, either, Jacob Strelitzki. I know you have a grudge against Mr. Karne.” Strelitzki was furious. Hurling various choice epithets at his companion he shook him off with such violence that Blatz fell against the wall, knocking his head, and severely bruising his shoulder. Strelitzki immediately became repentant. Apologizing for his hasty temper, he saw the foreman to his home, and helped to dress his wounds.