"The sun is very powerful," he said; "had you not better put it on." She snatched the hat with childish petulance, and then held up the bracelet again. "It's the one she gave to Glynne," said Sir John involuntarily. Marjorie looked at him sharply, and then pointed down at something covered partially by the dried scum of the pool. "Quick, for God's sake, get her away, Oldroyd!" whispered the major, stepping between the wretched woman and the ghastly remains at her feet. The task did not prove an easy one, for Marjorie resented the doctor's interference, and seemed determined to stay, but suddenly turned upon her heel and walked away, looking back once to smile and nod at the group standing by the bed of the dried up pool. "I found her here, sir, this morning, soon after breakfast, and tried to persuade her to come away," said Hayle; "but, poor girl, she didn't seem to know me a bit, and I didn't like to go and tell Mrs Rolph, for I'm afraid she's crazed." "He came on and told us, Oldroyd," said Sir John; "and we thought it would be better to have you here. How long is it since you were by here, Hayle?" "Close upon three weeks, Sir John," said the keeper; "and there was a little water left in the pool then. Shall I try and find out who it is?" Sir John looked at the remains with horror. "Better leave it to the police," he said. "They must be told, of course. Try, though, if there are any means of identification, and pick up the loose cases. Jem," he whispered, with a look of horror, "has judgment come upon this man as we see?" The major made no reply, but eagerly watched the keeper who picked up case after case, rotted and stained by the mud in which they had lain. These were placed together, and then Hayle stooped to cut open a discoloured piece of velveteen which had once been brown. From this he extracted a rusty knife, and a tobacco-box of brass, which set all at rest directly, for Hayle held the latter before Sir John. "Don't want any further search to find out that, Sir John," he said sharply. "A man has been missing from these parts for years now, and there's his name." Sir John looked at the tarnished metal box, with a shudder of disgust and horror for the memories it revived, and read there roughly scratched upon the lid--"Caleb Kent." "Remember what I said to you one day, Lucy?" said Oldroyd, about a year later. "I think it was that day when I was called over to Brackley about something being found." "Oh, Phil, don't bring that up," cried Lucy, with a shudder; "but what do you mean?" "About Miss Emlin. I've just come from there." "Yes, dear. Some fresh trouble?" He nodded his head gravely. "They've taken her to a private asylum. I did not say anything to you before, for fear of upsetting you, but she was not fit to be left with poor old Mrs Rolph, and she has tried to drown herself twice." THE END.