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"Because I have a suspicion, which I can not prove at present. Battersea gave me a hint, upon which I am determined to work. To-night I may learn the truth." Lieutenant Maurice Alymer was also blonde, and also had blue eyes and a jaunty mustache, somewhat smaller than his senior's. His hair was yellow and curly, his features were boldly cut, and his six foot of flesh and muscle was straight and lithe. Athlete was stamped strongly on his appearance, and if not clever, he was at least sufficiently good-looking and good-natured to make him almost as popular as the major. Jen always maintained that Maurice was the living image of himself when a dashing young officer, out in Ashantee; but as the good major was considerably under the middle height and Maurice considerably over it, this statement must be accepted with some reserve. It passed as one of Jen's jokes, for a mild quality of which he was noted. "The girl is nervously excited," he explained; "and now that she has sustained this shock of Mr. Alymer's death there is no knowing what complications may ensue.".

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"You make one slight mistake, sir," said Jen, coldly. "I accuse you of two crimes, not of three." I weigh one hundred and sixty pounds, set down in black and white, and it is a tragedy! I don't believe that man at the weighing machine is so very reliable in his weights, though he had a very pleasant smile while he was weighing me. Still, I had better get some scales of my own, smiles are so deceptive. "Oh, do ask him, David," she urged, taking in the attractive athletic figure with its wholesome self-reliant air. "He looks awfully nice." "Mrs. Dallas?" cried David, starting from his seat. "Did she steal the devil-stick?".