A silence fell upon the room. The old man seemed not inclined to break it; Richard, still under the hypnotism of the scene, would not speak. To relieve the intensity of the moment he quietly opened the _Westminster Gazette_. The lamp had sunk lower and lower, and it was with difficulty that he could read. His eye, however, chanced to fall on the financial page, and there, as the heading of a paragraph in the ‘Notes,’ he saw these words: ‘LOCK RUMOURS.’ He brought the page nearer to his face, and read: ‘The rumours that the Lock group are in serious difficulties was again rife on ’Change to-day. Mr. Simon Lock, seen by one of our representatives, merely smiled when told of the prevalence of these sinister rumours. He gave our representative the somewhat cryptic answer that we should see what we should see. We do not doubt the truth of this remark. Dealing in the shares of the newly-floated “La Princesse” Gold Mining Company (Westralian) was very active this morning, but fell flat after lunch. The one-pound shares, which, after a sensational rise last week, fell on Thursday to a shade over par, are now at five and a half, with a distinct tendency to harden, in spite of the fact that the demand is slight.’ Richard looked up from the paper. ‘I see,’ he said, with interest, ‘that it is not absolutely all plain sailing even with the great Simon Lock. Did you read this paragraph here about him?’ ‘No,’ murmured the old man. ‘Read it to me.’ Richard did so in the rapidly-dying light. ‘Very curious and interesting,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘I have sometimes permitted myself to wonder whether our respected chairman is, after all, the impregnable rock which he is usually taken for.’ At this moment the lamp went out, and the two men sat in absolute darkness. The next ensuing phenomenon was the sound of an apparently heavy body falling down the stairs into the hall, and then a girl’s terrified scream. Richard sprang to the door, but a few moments elapsed before his fingers could find the handle. At length he opened the door. The lamp in the hall was still brightly burning. At the foot of the stairs lay Nolan, the detective, wrapped in a bedgown. At the head of the stairs, in an attitude of dismay, stood Juana. There was a heavy and terrible sigh at Richard’s elbow. He turned his head sharply. Raphael Craig stood behind him, his body swaying as though in a breeze. ‘Juana!’ he stammered out hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the trembling girl. ‘Do not curse me again, father,’ she cried, with a superb gesture; ‘I have suffered enough.’ An oak chest stood to the left of the drawing-room door. Raphael Craig sank down upon it, as if exhausted by a sudden and frightful emotion. ‘Go!’ he said in a low voice. But the girl came steadily downstairs towards him. No one seemed to take any notice of the body of the detective. CHAPTER XI--END OF THE NIGHT