own chamber. We found no one, no trace of
any one, nothing to excite suspicion. There
were but two female servants sleeping in the
house—the old housekeeper, and a country girl
who assisted her. It was not possible to suspect
either of these persons, but in the course of our
search we opened the doors of their rooms. We
saw that they were both in bed, both seemingly
asleep: it seemed idle to wake and question them.
When the formality of our futile investigation
was concluded, Strahan stopped at the door of
my bedroom, and for the first time fixing his eyes
on me steadily, said:

"Allen Fenwick, I would have given half the
fortune I have come into rather than this had
happened. The manuscript, as you know, was
bequeathed to me as a sacred trust by a benefactor
whose slightest wish it is my duty to observe
religiously. If it contained aught valuable to a
man of your knowledge and profession,—why,
you were free to use its contents. Let me hope,
Allen, that the book will reappear to-morrow."

He said no more, drew himself away from
the hand I involuntarily extended, and walked
quickly back towards his own room.

Alone once more, I sank on a seat, buried my
face in my hands, and strove in vain to collect
into some definite shape my own tumultuous and
disordered thoughts. Could I attach serious
credit to the marvellous narrative I had read?
Were there, indeed, such powers given to man?
such influences latent in the calm routine of
Nature? I could not believe it; I must have
some morbid affection of the brain; I must be
under an hallucination. Hallucination? The
phantom, yes—the trance, yes. But, still, how
came the book gone? That, at least, was not
hallucination.

I left my room the next morning with a vague
hope that I should find the manuscript
somewhere in the study; that, in my own trance, I
might have secreted it, as sleep-walkers are said
to secrete things, without remembrance of their
acts in their waking state.

I searched minutely in every conceivable place.
Strahan found me still employed in that hopeless
task. He had breakfasted in his own room, and
it was past eleven o'clock when he joined me.
His manner was now hard, cold, and distant,
and his suspicion so bluntly shown that my
distress gave way to resentment.

"Is it possible," I cried, indignantly, "that
you who have known me so well can suspect me
of an act so base, and so gratuitously base?
Purloin, conceal a book confided to me, with
full power to copy from it whatever I might
desire, use its contents in any way that might
seem to me serviceable to science, or useful to
rne in my own calling!"

"I have not accused you," answered Strahan,
sullenly. "But what are we to say to Mr.
Jeeves; to all others who know that this
manuscript existed? Will they believe what you tell
me?"

"Mr. Jeeves," I said, "cannot suspect a
fellow-townsman, whose character is as high as
mine, of untruth and theft. And to whom else
have you communicated the facts connected with
a memoir and a request of so extraordinary a
nature?"

"To young Margrave; I told you so!"

"True, true. We need not go further to find
the thief. Margrave has been in this house more
than once. He knows the position of the rooms.
You have named the robber!"

"Tut! what on earth could a gay young fellow
like Margrave want with a work of such dry and
recondite nature as I presume my poor kinsman's
memoir must be?"

I was about to answer, when the door was
abruptly opened, and the servant girl entered,
followed by two men, in whom I recognised the
superintendent of the L——police and the same
subordinate who had found me by Sir Philip's
corpse.

The superintendent came up to me with a
grave face, and whispered in my ear. I did not
at first comprehend him. "Come with you," I
said, "and to Mr. Vigors, the magistrate? I
thought my deposition was closed."

The superintendent shook his head. "I have
the authority here, Dr. Fenwick."

"Well, I will come, of course.  Has anything
new transpired?"

The superintendent turned to the servant girl,
who was standing with gaping mouth and staring
eyes. "Show us Dr. Fenwick's room. You
had better put up, sir, whatever things you
have brought here. I will go up-stairs with you,"
he whispered again. "Come, Dr. Fenwick, I
am in the discharge of my duty."

Something in the man's manner was so sinister
and menacing that I felt, at once, that some new
and strange calamity had befallen me. I turned
towards Strahan, He was at the threshold,
speaking in a low voice to the subordinate policeman,
and there was an expression of amazement
and horror in his countenance. As I came
towards him he darted away without a word.

I went up the stairs, entered my bedroom, the
superintendent close behind me. As I took up
mechanically the few things I had brought
with me, the police-officer drew them from
me with an abruptness that appeared insolent,
and deliberately searched the pockets of the
coat which I had worn the evening before, then
opened the drawers in the room, and even pried
into the bed.

'"What do you mean?" I asked, haughtily.

"Excuse me, sir. Duty. You are——"

'Well, I am what?"

"My prisoner; here is the warrant."

"Warrant! on what charge?"

"The murder of Sir Philip Derval."

"I—-I! Murder!" I could say no more.

I must hurry over this awful passage in my
marvellous record. It is torture to dwell on
the details, and indeed I have so sought to
chase them from my recollection, that they only
come back to me in hideous fragments, like
the broken, incoherent remains of a horrible
dream.

All that I need state is as follows: Early on
the very morning on which I had been arrested,