‘I think I understand,’ Sydney answered; then turning again to the man in the bed.  ’Yes, I hear what you say,—­the beetle.  Well, has the beetle done anything to you?’

‘It took me by the throat!’

‘Is that the meaning of the marks upon your neck?’

‘The beetle killed me.’

The lids closed.  The man relapsed into a state of lethargy.  The Inspector was puzzled;—­and said so.

‘What’s he mean about a beetle?’

Atherton replied.

’I think I understand what he means,—­and my friends do too.  We’ll explain afterwards.  In the meantime I think I’d better get as much out of him as I can,—­while there’s time.’

‘Yes,’ said the doctor, his hand upon the patient’s pulse, ’while there’s time.  There isn’t much—­only seconds.’

Sydney endeavoured to rouse the man from his stupor.

’You’ve been with Miss Lindon all the afternoon and evening, haven’t you, Mr Holt?’

Atherton had reached a chord in the man’s consciousness.  His lips moved,—­in painful articulation.

‘Yes—­all the afternoon—­and evening—­God help me!’

’I hope God will help you my poor fellow; you’ve been in need of His help if ever man was.  Miss Lindon is disguised in your old clothes, isn’t she?’

‘Yes,—­in my old clothes.  My God!’

‘And where is Miss Lindon now?’

The man had been speaking with his eyes closed.  Now he opened them, wide; there came into them the former staring horror.  He became possessed by uncontrollable agitation,—­half raising himself in bed.  Words came from his quivering lips as if they were only drawn from him by the force of his anguish.

‘The beetle’s going to kill Miss Lindon.’

A momentary paroxysm seemed to shake the very foundations of his being.  His whole frame quivered.  He fell back on to the bed,—­ ominously.  The doctor examined him in silence—­while we too were still.

’This time he’s gone for good, there’ll be no conjuring him back again.’

I felt a sudden pressure on my arm, and found that Lessingham was clutching me with probably unconscious violence.  The muscles of his face were twitching.  He trembled.  I turned to the doctor.

’Doctor, if there is any of that brandy left will you let me have it for my friend?’

Lessingham disposed of the remainder of the ‘shillings worth.’  I rather fancy it saved us from a scene.

The Inspector was speaking to the woman of the house.

’Now, Mrs Henderson, perhaps you’ll tell us what all this means.  Who is this man, and how did he come in here, and who came in with him, and what do you know about it altogether?  If you’ve got anything to say, say it, only you’d better be careful, because it’s my duty to warn you that anything you do say may be used against you.’

CHAPTER XLV

ALL THAT MRS ’ENDERSON KNEW