cab drove away he went again upstairs.  As he went he could not help shuddering at the thought of the danger from which Juliet had escaped.  He remembered how Maraquito had threatened to spoil the beauty of the girl, but he never thought she would have held to her devilish purpose.  Moreover, he could not understand how Maraquito in disguise came to see Caranby.  The disguise itself was an obvious necessity to escape the police.  But why should she have been with his uncle and why should Juliet have come also?  It was to gain an answer to these questions that Cuthbert hurried to the sitting-room.

Lord Caranby was no longer there.  The doctor had ordered him to be taken to his bedroom, and when Mallow went thither he met him at the door, “He is still unconscious,” said the doctor, “I must send for his regular medical attendant, as I was only called in as an emergency physician.”

“Is he very ill?”

“I think the shock will kill him.  He is extremely weak, and besides the shock of the vitriol being thrown, he has sustained severe injuries about the head from fire.  I don’t think he will live.  To whom am I speaking?” asked the young man.

“My name is Mallow.  I am Lord Caranby’s nephew.”

“And the next heir to the title.  I fancy you will be called `my lord’ before midnight.”

Mallow did not display any pleasure on hearing this.  He valued a title very little and, so far as money was concerned, had ample for his needs.  Besides, he was really fond of his uncle who, although consistently eccentric, had always been a kind, good friend.  “Will he recover consciousness?”

“I think so,” said the doctor doubtfully, “I am not quite sure.  His own medical attendant, knowing his constitution and its resisting power, will be able to speak more assuredly.  How did this happen?”

Cuthbert, for obvious reasons, explained as little as he could.  “Some old woman came to see my uncle and threw vitriol at Miss Saxon, the young lady who was with him.  He intercepted the stuff and fell into the fire.”

“What a demon!  I hope she will be caught.”

“She is dead,” and Cuthbert related the accident in the street.  The doctor had strong nerves, but he shuddered when he heard the dreadful story.  Nemesis had been less leaden-footed than usual.

In due time Dr. Yeo, who usually attended Caranby, made his appearance and stated that his patient would not live many hours.  “He was always weak,” said Yeo, “and of late his weakness increased.  The two severe shocks he has sustained would almost kill a stronger man, let alone an old man of so delicate an organization.  He will die.”

“I hope not,” said Cuthbert, impulsively.

The physician looked at him benignly.  “I differ from you,” he declared, “death will come as a happy release to Lord Caranby.  For years he has been suffering from an incurable complaint which gave him great pain.  But that he had so much courage, he would have killed himself.”