followed you here. It was, perhaps, not just the thing to do. But I
was so anxious! I want to tell Jimmie that something is being done for
him. You will help us, won't you?" and again she held out her hands
appealingly.

"I don't know anything about police or detectives," she went on, "but
I'm sure there must be some way of proving that my--that Jimmie had no
hand in this. Some terrible thief--a burglar--must have killed Mrs.
Darcy. Oh, Colonel Brentnall, you will help us--won't you?"

She stood there, a beautiful and pathetic picture. The wind sighed
through the trees and the murmur of the rippling water filled the air.

"Please!" she whispered. Her hands seemed to waver. Her body swayed.

"Shag, you black rascal!" cried the colonel. "The lady's going to
faint! Catch her!"

"Yes, sah, Colonel!"

"No! Stand back! I'll attend to her myself! I've given up detective
work, but--"

And a moment later Amy Mason sank limply into the colonel's arms.




CHAPTER VI