Opening the volume at the blood-stained page, the unlettered boy eagerly read the lines. Tried to read them, rather, and groaned in spirit because he knew no Latin. Small wonder that he was nonplused, for this was all he read: MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS Liber IV, Epigram XVIII Qua vicina pluit Vipsanis porta columnis Et madet assiduo lubricus imbre lapis, In iugulum pueri, qui roscida tecta subibat, Decidit hiberno praegravis unda gelu: Cumque peregisset miseri crudelia fata, Tabuit in calido vulnere mucro tener. Quid non saeva sibi voluit Fortuna licere? Aut ubi non mors est, si iugulatis aquae? His chin in his hands, he pored over the Latin in utter despair, and rising, started for the door. Then he paused; “I must do it myself—” he murmured: “_I must._” So he hunted the shelves until he found a Latin Dictionary. He was not entirely unversed in the rudiments of the language, for Stone had directed his education at such odd hours as he could find time for study. And so after some hard and laborious digging, Fibsy at last gathered the gist of the Latin stanza. His eyes shone, and he stared about the room. “It ain’t possible—” he told himself, “and yet—gee, there ain’t nothing else possible!” He rose and looked out at every window, he noted carefully the catches—he paced from the desk to the small rear windows of the room, and back again. “It’s the only thing,” he reiterated, “the _only_ thing. Oh, gee! _what_ a thing!” He went in search of Stone, and found the three men shut in the living room and with them was Nogi. Stone’s persevering efforts, by advertisements and circulars had at last succeeded, and the impassive and non-committal Japanese was there, and quite willing to tell all he knew. Fibsy interrupted his story. “Go back,” he directed, “to the beginning. Let me hear it all. It’s O. K., F. S.” “I was attending to my dining-room duties,” Nogi said, “and I had taken the water tray to the study. I was weary and hoped the master would soon retire. So, I occasionally peeped through the small window from the dining-room. I saw a lady come and make a visit, and then I saw her and I heard her go away. Then I hoped the master would go to bed. But, no—he was very busy. He wrote letters, he burned some papers, he moved about much. He was restless, disturbed. Then he sat at his desk and read his book.” “This one?” cried Fibsy, excitedly waving the Martial. “I think so—one like that, anyway.” “This was the one! Go on.” “Then—oh, it was strange! Then the master got up, went to the small window at the back of the room—” “Which one?” “The one by the big globe, and he opened it. But for a moment—” “Did he put his hand out?” Fibsy cried. “Yes, I suppose to see if it rained. Yes, he put his hand out for a moment, then he closed the window.” “And locked it?” asked Fibsy.