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door. He was in his pajamas when he took the glass from her.

But Ann herself did not get into bed until the window of his bedroom was in darkness. All safe for tonight at any rate!

The drawer in which that shining object lay was safely locked, and the keys were under Ann’s pillow.

But at about three o’clock she woke with a start. A light was shining across the veranda from Dick Holmes’s room. Ann could see it through her open french window. She jumped out of bed, and seized her wrapper. On the blind of the bay window there was a shadow—the shadow of a man holding something in his hand!

What a fool she’d been! Locks could be forced.

She flew along the passage, and without waiting to knock at his door she entered.

He turned and faced her, still holding the revolver in his hand.

“No, Mr. Holmes,” she said quietly, “you’re not going to do that.”

He was too amazed to resist, as she walked over and took the revolver from him. He stared at her for a moment, and then sank into a chair beside the bed with his two hands covering his face. Ann put the revolver down on the dressing-table, and came and knelt beside him.

“What is it?” she said. “Tell me.”

“I’m ruined,” he said in a husky whisper. “And Vera’s... gone.”

But as she asked the question she felt that she al-