Cyril and Mr. Palsey lost no time in conveying Helen to a cab which was waiting outside. They placed her on one of the seats and bade the cabman drive directly to number 2 Medina Road, where Cyril was lodging.

"How will you manage about the money Cyril?" presently asked Mr. Palsey.

"Dont speak to me of money?" cried Cyril bitterly, "oh Helen Helen" and he bent over his unconcious sweetheart.

"Pon me word Cyril" cried Mr. Palsey "you're a born idiot, the girl will soon recover, you'll marry her and we'll go halfs with the money, its simply ridiculous the way you mople and mumble over her, let her alone I say and tell me how the murd—the bussiness went off."

"I've told you twice it was very successful" replied Cyril impatiantly.

"You're trying to hide something I can see" cried Mr. Palsey passionately, "you'd best tell me, or not a farthing of the money shall be yours."

"I dont see that" said Cyril cooly, "you dont even know where the safe is." Mr. Palsey bit his lips in suppressed anger. Cyril's words were stiningly true and made him boil with passion. "Here we are" said Cyril, as the cab stopped at a dimly lighted street corner.

"Hi cabman, get down and open the door" screamed Mr. Palsey.

The man shuffled down from the box and opened the door.

"Any luggage" he asked roughly.

"No" replied Mr. Palsey "there is a young lady fainted and we are going to carry her in to this house."

"Right" responded the man and he stood aside while Cyril and Mr. Palsey came gingerly out carrying Helen between them.

As they were ascending the steps a rough looking man in a torn red shirt and battered hat came up and addressed himself to Cyril.

"Hi sir" he cried out "what about that £10 you promised; I'm a poor starving man and I cant wait much longer.

"Bother" muttered Cyril "here man will a shilling suffice for this evening, I'll pay the rest tomorrow."

"All right" grumbled the man, "unless you pay up tomorrow it'll be the last job I do for you," and with an oath the man departed.

Cyril lead the way into a dimly lighted parlour and with Mr. Palseys help Helen was soon arranged on the sofa.

Some supper consisting of cold mutton, vegitables and a jug of ale was laid out on a round table in the centre of the room, and small parrifin lamp burnt on the mantleshelf. Going over to this last object Cyril screwed it up, so that its glare fell, full on Helen's face.

"Why she's hurt herself terribly" cried Cyril in alarm, pointing to a wound in her forehead from which blood had been streaming down her face.

"Is your landlady up?" enquired Mr. Palsey seriously.

"I should rather doubt it, why?" asked Cyril.

"Because Miss Winston should be taken to her bedroom at once, I'm afraid it is a bad cut" replied Mr. Palsey.

"I'll ring" responded Cyril and he acted accordingly.

In ten minutes or so an oldish woman entered holding a candle and her garments had evidently been flung on in a hurry.

"What now sir?" she asked.

"Sorry for disturbing you Mrs. Pollard but this young lady of mine has had a terrible fall and must be taken to her bedroom at once, we thought it was only a faint said Cyril.

"Lardy dardy" exclaimed Mrs. Pollard "poor young lady, I'll see to her at once sir."

She left the room and soon returned with an other servant and the two carried Helen to her bedroom where they bathed her face with cold water and put her to bed as carefully as possible.

"You'd best go for the doctor Mary" said Mrs. Pollard "say nothing to the young gentleman and be as quick as you can.

Meanwhile Cyril and Mr. Palsey sat down to their supper.

"Poor Helen" cried Cyril at last.

"Oh stop that tune do" cried Mr. Palsey "tell us what happened."

"It was all done as pre-arranged. I waited till the man was hanged and the yard emptied of people and while Mr. Winston was putting away the scaffold the blow was struck" said Cyril.

"By you?"

"No"

"Who then?"

"Oh that lout you saw at the door just now, he decided to do the job for £10, I had hard work to make him do it just at first" replied Cyril.

"Indeed" said Mr. Palsey "what was his name?"

"Jack Jenkins" replied Cyril a terrific beggar and drunkard too I belive."

"Oh" laughed Mr. Palsey "and what plan did you adopt about the gun?"

"I did'nt do that" responded Cyril "when Jenkins had done his part of the bussiness, I got a knife, steeped it in red ink and laid it by Mr. Winston's side, as he was prostrated on the ground."

"And that will lead the police to belive it was suicide you think?" asked Mr. Palsey.

"I think so" replied Cyril with a groan "at last that seemed to be the general opinion when the poor fellow was taken to the mortuary."

"Why do you say "poor fellow?" asked Mr. Palsey.

"Because I do think he is a poor fellow and I'm sorry I ever did the thing" cried Cyril and he brought his fist down on the table with such force that the jug of beer toppled over and fell on the floor.

At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Pollard poked her head in "if you please sir" she said "we've thought fit to send for Dr. Poppet, and he's waiting in the hall."

"Very well" said Cyril with dignity "show him upstairs and when he has seen Miss Winston let him come and have a word with me."

"Miss Winston" cried Mrs. Pollard "why sir is she any relation to the poor hangman as was killed after the affair."

"Yes woman" cried Cyril hotly "she is his daughter, now go for pity's sake"

Mrs. Pollard hastily withdrew and commanded Dr. Poppet to follow her.

"Its a serious case sir" she said cheerily opening Helen's door "step this way please."

Dr. Poppet stepped that way and went over to Helens bed, where Mary the under servant was putting ointment on the wound.

"Hem" grunted the doctor seriously "not as bad as I feared, but very dangerous for all that, she must be kept very quiet Mrs. Pollard and must only take liquid food, she will probably awake by 5 or 6 o'clock and you may give her a little milk, "I'll call again tomorrow on my rounds, keep her head cool or fever of some kind may set in and effect the brain."

"Your instructions shall be carried out to the letter" said Mrs. Pollard and with that she led him down to talk with Cyril Sheene.