"Then for her sake I hope you won't reveal to her the truth concerning her father. If he is wanted she need never know. What use is it to revile the dead?" "Of course not, Mr Leaf," replied the officer. "I've got a daughter of her age myself, therefore if the truth can possibly be kept from her I'll keep it. Rely on me. Now," he added, lowering his voice, "tell me--did you ever suspect Miller of being a thief?" "Well," I said hesitatingly, "to tell you the truth I did. Not so much from his actions as from the friends he kept. Besides, a friend of mine once declared to me that he was a black sheep." "My dear sir, if our information is true, he was wanted upon twenty different charges, of fraud, forgery, theft, and other things. A report from Italy is that he was chief of a very dangerous international gang. Himes may have been one of his accomplices, and quarrelled with him. In fact that's my present theory. But we shall see." "Remember your promise regarding Miss Lucie," I urged. "I'll not forget, never fear," was the detective's answer, and he turned and rejoined the other at the end of the ward. I had only admitted my suspicions in order to make friends with the officer, and in the hope of preventing him revealing the truth to poor Lucie. About six o'clock that evening I opened my eyes and found my neat little friend, pale and tearful, standing by my bedside. She tried to speak, but only burst into a flood of tears. I took her hand and held it, while the nurse, realising the situation, placed a chair for her. "You know the terrible blow that has fallen upon me!" she faltered, in a low voice. "My poor father!" "They have told me," I answered, in sympathy. "How can I sufficiently express my regret!" She shook her head in sorrow, and her great dark eyes met mine. "Blow after blow has fallen upon me," she sighed. "This is the heaviest!" "I know, Miss Lucie," I said. "But you must bear up against the terrible misfortune. We were both victims of an ingenious blackguard. What did you know of the fellow? I was under the impression that he was your friend?" "Friend!" she echoed. "He always pretended to be--and yet he killed my poor father in secret, and tried also to take your life." "He believed me to be a friend of your father's," I said, "He told me so when I accused him of having poisoned me--he said his intention was to kill all your father's friends, one by one." "He said that!" she gasped. "He actually told you that!" "Yes. He admitted that he had poisoned me, and laughed in my face," I answered. "But who is he? Where did you know him?" "He was once my father's most intimate friend." And while she bent over my bed, her blanched, haggard face near mine as she spoke, another figure came between myself and the light. I turned, and saw that it was my friend the detective, while Lucie also recognised and greeted him instantly.