That instant, with the fury of a madman, Claude turned upon his sister and covered her white face with his quivering hand. “Murderer, eh? What are you? Don’t you know that the curse of blood has been upon this house for years? The curse of blood and money! Nearly a century ago one of your ancestors murdered his bride, and ever since the stain has been upon the house. It has skipped a few generations, but it is with us now. Richmond and I have kept your red secret. We know who killed Mother Flintstone. Does the detective know?” “He knows,” calmly answered Opal. “And does he know that the girl called Margie Marne is the grandchild of Mother Flintstone?” Nick nodded. “That’s all.” Claude Lamont turned and stalked coolly from the room. At the door he stopped and looked back. “I’ll be on hand when wanted,” he said. “It was self-defense. I had to take the old man’s life.” Carter and Opal heard him on the stairs, and in a few moments they heard a door shut overhead. Long before morning a policeman stood guard over the dead millionaire’s mansion. The night passed slowly. New York was getting ready to awake to the solution of another murder mystery and another crime. The detective was making the last move in the office of the chief of police, who had listened to the story of his last trail. George Richmond lay in the station-house cell fast asleep, just as if he had never been concerned in the plot to rob Perry Lamont, the millionaire, with the aid of his scapegrace son. The morning broke. Carter went to the Lamont mansion. Upon parting the night before Opal had pledged her honor that she would greet him when he came again. He entered the house, speaking first to the guardian at the door, who assured him that all was well, and then he entered the parlor. He rang the silver call bell on the table, and a servant entered. “Your mistress?” said he. “She is upstairs.” Something in the servant’s tones attracted the detective, and he bounded up the steps. Into the girl’s boudoir he burst, to stop just beyond the threshold. One glance was enough--one look at the form lying on the couch satisfied the detective, and he did not remove the black-handled dagger from the blood-flecked bosom. Claude was found fast asleep and was taken away, but the murderess was left alone. The trail was ended. Opal, the murderer of Mother Flintstone, was past reach of judge or jury, and the court acquitted Claude, for Bristol Clara, the only living witness, had to testify in his favor. George Richmond was tried for conspiracy, and, as the law had long wanted to get another hold on him, he was sent “up the river” for a long term, which proved his last, for he died in Sing Sing. The outcome of the detective’s trail was a startling surprise to Gothamites and became the talk of the town.