The arm tightened on her neck. She was suffocating, dying she thought, and her heart was filled with a wild, mad longing for life and a terror undreamt of. She could faintly hear her father's voice calling her and then consciousness departed. When Jean came to herself she was in Lydia Meredith's arms. She opened her eyes and saw the pathetic face of her father looming from the background. Her hand went up to her throat. "Hallo, people--how did I get here?" she asked as she struggled into a sitting position. "I came in search of you and found you lying on the ground," quavered Mr. Briggerland. "Did you see the man?" she asked. "No. What happened to you, darling?" "Nothing," she said with that composure which she could command. "I must have fainted. It was rather ridiculous of me, wasn't it?" she smiled. She got unsteadily to her feet and again she felt her throat. Lydia noticed the action. "Did he hurt you?" she asked anxiously. "It couldn't have been Jaggs." "Oh no," smiled Jean, "it couldn't have been Jaggs. I think I'll go to bed." She did not expect to sleep. For the first time in her extraordinary life fear had come to her, and she had shivered on the very edge of the abyss. She felt the shudder she could not repress and shook herself impatiently. Then she extinguished the light and went to the window and looked out. Somewhere there in the darkness she knew her enemy was hidden, and again that sense of apprehension swept over her. "I'm losing my nerve," she murmured. It was extraordinary to Lydia Meredith that the girl showed no sign of her night's adventure when she came in to breakfast on the following morning. She looked bright. Her eyes were clear and her delicate irony as pointed as though she had slept the clock round. Lydia did not swim that day, and Mr. Stepney had his journey out to Cap Martin in vain. Nor was she inclined to go back with him to Monte Carlo to the Casino in the afternoon, and Mr. Stepney began to realise that he was wasting valuable time. Jean found her scribbling in the garden and Lydia made no secret of the task she was undertaking. "Making your will? What a grisly idea?" she said as she put down the cup of tea she had carried out to the girl. "Isn't it," said Lydia with a grimace. "It is the most worrying business, too, Jean. There is nobody I want to leave money to except you and Mr. Glover." "For heaven's sake don't leave me any or Jack will think I am conspiring to bring about your untimely end," said Jean. "Why make a will at all?" There was no need for her to ask that, but she was curious to discover what reply the girl would make, and to her surprise Lydia fenced with the question. "It is done in all the best circles," she said good-humouredly. "And, Jean, I'm not interested in a single public institution! I don't know by title the name of any home for dogs, and I shouldn't be at all anxious to leave my money to one even if I did."