It was time some friendly hand was interposed. Inspector Symonds and his colleague showed signs of intervention on their own account, and on lines of their own. Miss Moore began to turn slowly towards the bed. “I wonder if I could make out where I struck him, and where it hacked.” Miss Adair moved forward. “Bessie!” she cried. The girl turned and saw her, and appeared to struggle with the darkness which was in her brain. The contest seemed physical as well as mental; she swayed to and fro; I thought that she would fall. Then reason got the upper hand; a wave of consciousness swept over her. She drew herself upright, and she ran to Miss Adair. “Florrie!” she exclaimed. She burst into tears--real tears this time, not the dry sobs which, a few minutes before, seemed to be tearing her to pieces. She cried like a child. CHAPTER XII. WHAT WAS ON THE BED And we--we five men--remained for a moment or two, in silence, looking on. In our breasts, I imagine, were widely different emotions. Surprise, and something else, was, apparently, the dominant feeling of Inspector Symonds and his colleague. They exchanged a few whispered words. Then the Inspector made a movement towards Miss Moore, with something in his mien I did not like. I placed myself in front of him. “Well, sir,” I inquired, “what do you want?” He looked at me askance; then turned towards the policeman who had been placed in the passage to guard the outer door. “What is the meaning of these people being here? I thought I told you to admit no one. Is this the way you obey orders?” The policeman was apologetic. “Well, sir, that young lady was through before I knew what she was up to. Then this gentleman sent me flying down the passage, and the rest of ’em got in; it was more than I could do to stop them.” The Inspector showed himself indisposed to accept his satellite’s excuses. “Tell that for a tale, my man; you will hear of this again. I will only have men with me who are able to carry out to the letter the instructions I give them.” He addressed himself to me. “Mr. Ferguson, if you are not careful you will get yourself into trouble. You appear not to realise the serious nature of your conduct. It is not what I should have expected from a gentleman in your position. Surely you cannot wish to place yourself in opposition to the law?” “Thank you for your warning; and don’t you trouble yourself about my wishes. Let me advise you not to step out of the four corners of your province; men circumstanced as you are sometimes take liberties, which is a mistake.” “Stand on one side, Mr. Ferguson. I do not take my instructions from you. I wish to speak to that young lady.” “Then speak to her from where you are--though what you can have to say to her is more than I am able to imagine. She is not well, and does not want to be brought into too close contact with undesirable strangers.” “Not well? What is the matter with her?”