"Then, after dinner, after the guests departed and Miss Clyde had gone to her own room, Mrs. Pell went into her sitting room, to rest and perhaps to plan vengeance on her assailant. But weak from shock, perhaps ill and dizzied, she stumbled over that long cord that is attached to the table lamp, upset lamp and table, and herself fell and hit her head on the fender. Doubtless she herself pulled open the neck of her gown as she gasped her last. She called out for help, and cried 'Thieves!' in a dazed remembrance of the attack that had been made on her by the thief. She locked the door, of course, when she first entered the room. I'm told that was her invariable custom of a Sunday afternoon. Then, after the poor lady screamed out with her dying breath, the servants came and were forced to break in the door to effect an entrance." "That's it, all right, and it all checks up," said Fibsy, solemnly. "Cause why? Cause there ain't any other explanation that'll fit all the circumstances." Nor was there. It did all check up. Further evidence was sought and found. Witnesses proved the truth of Bannard's declarations. Sam identified Young as the man he had seen prowling round in the woods that morning, and everything fitted in like the pieces of a picture puzzle. There was no way for a murderer to escape from that locked room, because there was no murderer and had been no murder. Young's was not a murderous assault, though it was enough to earn him his well-deserved punishment, and the fact that the servants heard the crash of the overset table and lamp proved that it had not happened at the time of Young's visit. No one had chanced to enter Mrs. Pell's sitting-room between the call of Young and the breaking in of the door, so the ransacked desk and the opened safe were not discovered. What had been taken from the safe they never knew, for Young declared there was nothing in it, and they partially believed him. But the jewels which were found buried between the graves of Ursula Pell's parents, Elmer and Emily Pell, were of sufficient value to make it a matter of little moment what was stolen from the safe. And Winston Bannard was set free and came home in triumph to the smiling girl awaiting him. Only Fleming Stone knew that Win Bannard had been so evasive and taciturn regarding himself because he feared that if he were freed Iris might be suspected. He gave Iris the glory of bringing about his release, and though she disclaimed it, she whispered to him, "I said I would win for Win! The only thing that bothered me was that note seemingly in your writing, though disguised." "I know," said Bannard, "and I knew somebody did that to make it seem like me, but I couldn't think who the villain could be." "It was all a mighty close squeak," Fibsy said, thoughtfully. "I believe the keynote was struck when Sam told me he had dropped the 'pinny-pin in the colole! If he hadn't we never would have got anywhere!"