"I know," he muttered. "He has been and lost all his tin, and he's making his will; and I don't want him to, even if he's going to leave me that horse-shoe pin with diamonds in for nails. Here! I can't stand this--I'll go in!" Jerry hesitated for a few minutes, and then, unable to control the intense desire to see what was going on, he was about to take hold of the handle of the door, but he paused in doubt, for he had no excuse. The next minute the excuse had come, and he entered quickly, to find Lacey writing, and ready to look up inquiringly. "Beg pardon, sir, thought you might be in your bedroom. Didn't happen to see a little pig-skin purse, did you?" "No!" said the lieutenant, gruffly. "Sorry to have interrupted you, sir. Don't see it lying about, sir. Thank ye, sir!" Jerry had a sharp look round, and then he backed out again to close the door after him, and stand hesitating and shaking his head. "I don't like it," he muttered. "He ought to be tired out and glad to jump into his bed; and here he is writing! He isn't a writing sort of chap! Never hardly puts pen to paper! What's he writing for at a time like this?" Jerry shook his head very solemnly, and sat down to wait, with all drowsiness gone and a nervous state of irritation steadily on the increase as he sat on for a time that seemed to be interminable, always on the _qui vive_, and expecting moment by moment to hear something which would give him ample excuse for rushing in. "And what good will that do?" he argued, as his spirits grew lower and lower. "It'll be too late then, for I ought to be there to stop him. He's half-mad, and if I was there I might prevent it; but he would not have it. He'd tell me I was mad to think of such a thing, and kick me out!" "Well," he said to himself, after waiting for an interminable time, all worry and indecision, "I've a good mind to risk his being angry; for I'm sure he wants something to eat. I will, before it's too late." He rose from his seat once more, and was in the act of crossing the lobby, when a piteous cry escaped his lips, for there was a sharp concussion, the windows of the place he was in rattled, and he heard the sound of a heavy fall! Crying out "Too late! too late!" he dashed at the door, flung it open, and entered. CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. DEAD OR ALIVE? As Jerry rushed into Lacey's room, it was with the full expectation of seeing the master for whom he had begun to feel a warm respect stretched, face downward, upon the carpet; but the place was vacant, and, panting and trembling, he ran on to where the heavy curtain draped the bedroom door, swung it aside, and rushed in--there to see that the lieutenant, in shirt and trousers, had fallen upon the bed, from which he was now evidently writhing and struggling to the floor. Jerry was a man of resource. He had not been servant and valet to gentlemen for years without picking up a great deal--nursing being one of his accomplishments.