Hope and Random simultaneously stepped through the window, but could not see an inch before them, so thick was the sea-fog and so dense was the darkness.  Returning, they replaced the screen, and, telling Painter to be more on the alert, went back shivering to the fire in the dining-room.  When they were seated again, Archie put a question.

“Do you think that policeman was dreaming?” he asked meditatively.

“No,” replied Random sharply.  “I believe that the man who assaulted Mrs. Jasher is hanging about, and ventured back into the room, relying on the fog as a means of escape, should he be spotted.”

“But the man wouldn’t be such a fool as to return into danger.”

“Not unless he wanted something very badly,” said Random significantly.

Hope let the cigarette he was lighting fall.

“What do you mean?”

“I may be wrong, of course.  But it is my impression that there is something in the parlor which this man wants, and for which he tried to murder Mrs. Jasher.  We interrupted him, and he was forced to flee.  Hidden in the fog, he is lurking about to see if he can’t obtain what he has risked his neck to secure.”

“What can it be?” murmured Archie, struck by the feasibility of this theory.

“Perhaps the second emerald,” remarked Sir Frank grimly.

“What!  You don’t think that—­”

“I don’t think anything.  I am too tired to think at all.  However, Painter will keep his eyes open, and in the morning we can search the room.  The man has been in the house twice to get what he wanted.  He won’t risk another attempt, now that he is aware we are on the alert.  I’m going to try and get forty winks.  You keep watch, as you have had your sleep.”

Hope was quite agreeable, but just as Random composed himself to uneasy slumber, Jane, haggard and red-eyed, came hastily into the dining-room.

“If you please, gentlemen, the doctor wants you to come and see mistress.  She is sensible, and—­”

The two waited to hear no more, but went hastily but softly into the room wherein lay the dying woman.  Robinson sat by the bedside, holding his patient’s hand and feeling her pulse.  He placed his finger on his lips as the men entered gently, and at the same moment Mrs. Jasher’s voice, weak from exhaustion, sounded through the room, which was dimly illuminated by one candle.  The newcomers halted in obedience to Robinson’s signal.

“Who is there?” asked Mrs. Jasher weakly, for, in spite of the care exercised, she had evidently heard the footsteps.

“Mr. Hope and Sir Frank Random,” whispered the doctor, speaking into the dying woman’s ear.  “They came in time to save you.”

“In time to see me die,” she murmured; “and I can’t die, unless I tell the truth.  I am glad Random is there; he is a kind-hearted boy, and treated me better than he need have done.  I—­oh—­some brandy—­brandy.”