Presently Ruthine came into the room. As he went towards Arthur he glanced at Dora and then at Mrs. Agar, but the young fellow was evidently his first care.
While he was kneeling by the low chair examining Arthur's eyes and face, Mrs. Agar suddenly rose and crossed the room.
"Is he dead?" she said abruptly.
"Who?" inquired Mark Ruthine, without looking round.
"Seymour Michael."
"Yes."
"Quite?"
"Yes."
"Then Arthur killed him?"
"Yes."
All this while Arthur was lying back in the chair, white and lifeless. His eyes were open, he breathed regularly, but he heard nothing that was said, nor saw anything before his eyes.
"Then," said Mrs. Agar, "that was a murder?"
She was looking out of the window, towards the stone terrace, already conscious that the scene that she had witnessed ther
