The speaker's sightless eyes were turned upwards; he seemed to be thinking aloud rather than addressing the company generally. Marion turned as if something had stung her. "Uncle Ralph knows something that he conceals from us," she cried. Ralph smiled. Yet he had the air of one who is displeased with himself. "I know many things that are mercifully concealed from pure natures like yours," he said. "But as to what happened last night I am as much in the dark as any of you. Ah, if I were not blind!" A strained silence followed. One by one the company rose until the room was deserted, save for Ralph Ravenspur and his nephew Geoffrey. The handsome lad's face was pale, his lips quivered. "I am dreadfully disappointed, uncle," he observed. "Meaning from your tone that you are disappointed with me, Geoff. Why?" "Because you spoke at first as if you understood things. And then you professed to be as ignorant as the rest of us. Oh, it is awful! I--I would not care so much if I were less fond of Vera than I am. I love her; I love her with my whole heart and soul. If you could only see the beauty of her face you would understand. "And yet when she kisses me good-night I am never sure that it is not for the last time. I feel that I must wake up presently to find that all is an evil dream. And we can do nothing, nothing, nothing but wait and tremble and--die." Ralph had no reply; indeed there was no reply to this passionate outburst. The blind man rose from the table and groped his way to the door with those long hands that seemed to be always feeling for something like the tentacles of an octopus. "Come with me to your grandfather's room," he said. "I want you to lend me your eyes for a time." Geoffrey followed willingly. The bed room was exactly as Ravenspur had quitted it, for as yet the housemaid had not been there. "Now look round you carefully," said Ralph. "Look for something out of the common. It may be a piece of rag, a scrap of paper, a spot of grease, or a dab of some foreign substance on the carpet. Is there a fire laid here?" "No," Geoffrey replied. "The grate is a large open one. I will see what I can find." The young fellow searched minutely. For some time no reward awaited his pains. Then his eyes fell upon the hearthstone. "I can only see one little thing," he said. "In a business like this, there are no such matters as little things," Ralph replied. "A clue that might stand on a pin's point often leads to great results. Tell me what it is that attracts your attention." "A bronze stain on the hearthstone. It is about the size of the palm of one's hand. It looks very like a piece of glue dabbed down." "Take a knife and scrape it up," said Ralph. He spoke slowly and evidently under excitement well repressed. "Wrap it in your handkerchief and give it to me. Has the stuff any particular smell?" "Yes," said Geoffrey. "It has a sickly sweet odor. I am sure that I never smelt anything like it before."