Clarice was not within, and Mrs. Rebson was puzzled. She hunted through the other rooms on the same floor, and at length came to Ferdy's apartment. Here she found the room in disorder, and Clarice lying on the carpet in a dead faint. Considerably alarmed, Mrs. Rebson got water and vinegar and sal volatile, and all such-like aids to insensible people. Shortly Clarice revived and sat up with a dazed look. But as soon as a memory of what she had found came back to her with a rush, she struggled to her feet, and crushed up the scrap of shaving-paper upon which she had impressed the fern. The stamp itself she had held closely in her left hand all the time she was insensible, so she did not think that her dim-eyed old nurse had seen anything. More than that, Mrs. Rebson ascribed to the London trip this unexampled behaviour on the part of the girl. Never before had strong-minded Clarice Baird lost her senses. "Come and lie down, deary," coaxed Mrs. Rebson, leading the girl back to her own room; "you're fairly worn out with gadding about that nasty London. I'll bring you up some tea." "Do, Nanny," said Clarice, faintly, and when the nurse left the room, she lay passively upon her bed. What she felt at the moment no one knew, and no one could ever know. The stamp of the Purple Fern was inseparably connected with the many murders, and that it should be in Ferdy's bedroom, hidden away so carefully, seemed terrible and inexplicable. Ferdy could not have murdered his guardian, since he had been locked up in his room, and yet the stamp which had been used to impress the fatal mark on the forehead of the dead was in Ferdy's possession. Of course, Osip, who was really the murderer, might have had another stamp. Certainly he must have had another stamp, and no doubt each member of the triumvirate possessed a similar article. Ferdy was guiltless, and Osip had done the deed. And yet, how came it that Ferdy had this particular stamp in his possession? Clarice could have shrieked with fear and horror, and had to roll over on her pillow to prevent herself from crying out. And then another agonised thought came into her tormented mind. Zara had told her to search Ferdy's room, therefore Zara must have known that the stamp was hidden away there. And if Zara knew, it was in her power to hang the poor boy. Poor boy--could even his own sister speak of him in that way, when he was connected with a callous, cruel crime? He had not stabbed Horran with the assegai, since he had been locked in his room, but he must have impressed the Purple Fern on the dead man's forehead. Unless Osip--oh, yes, Osip must have done it, not Ferdy--not Ferdy--not Ferdy. And so the girl's distracted brain buzzed and droned with the hideous repetition of one word, "Guilt! Guilt! Guilt!"