that the skiff his informants had mentioned was not at the place where first found, or anywhere on that lake.  Therefore Mr. Perrowne and Mr. Douglas proposed to go with Ben Toner to get the Richards’ scow, and meet Mr. Bangs with the colonel and Mr. Terry at the encampment.  The two parties armed and drove away.  One of the Richards boys, namely Bill, joined the three watermen, and together they propelled the punt to the extent of a punt’s travelling capacity; but it was between four and five when the explorers of Tillycot, leaving Ben, Timotheus and Richards on the shore, entered with difficulty through the veiled channel, into the beautiful hidden lake.  They saw the skiff on the shore near the house, and soon perceived the numerous blood stains in it.  They ran up the bank, entered the chalet, and, at last, in the library, beheld him whom they sought, extended upon the floor.  He had died by his own hand, his fingers being still upon the pistol whose bullet had pierced his brain.  Mr. Bangs seized a scrap of writing lying on the table, which ran thus:—­

“Curse you, Tilly, for leaving me to die like a rat in a hole.  I have stood the pains of hell for thirty-eight hours, and can’t stand them any longer.  They shan’t take me alive.  Box and that hound Carruthers’ papers are covered with brush and leaves under the last birch in the bush, where I finished that meddlesome fool of a lawyer.  You know why you ought to give a lot to Regy’s boy.  It’s all over.  Curse the lot of you.  Here goes, but mind you kill that damnable Squire, or I’ll come when I’m dead and torture the life out of you.”

No compassion could follow the reading of this document.  There was nothing of legal importance in the chalet, so Mr. Bangs, aided by Mr. Terry and Mr. Douglas, carried the dead man to the punt, and the party in it and in the skiff returned to the Encampment lake.  Richards, Ben Toner, and Timotheus carried the body up the hill to the waggon on the masked road.  Then they returned to the scow, while Mr. Bangs drove to the post office annex, with the colonel and Mr. Terry, Mr. Perrowne and Mr. Douglas.  Ben Toner and Timotheus arrived in the other waggon, soon after the ghastly burden had been deposited in the unfinished hall, and were left in charge, while the others went home to inform the Squire and the doctor.  Having done this, the detective took the former to the little wood, and, after a little searching, found the concealed box, which held the incriminating papers as well as the original treasure.  But for Coristine’s fatal shot, these would have been carried away.  On their return, Doctor Halbert said, after consulting Mr. Bang’s paper:  “He took his life the very hour Matilda exclaimed ‘Free at last.’  The neighbourhood and the whole country may breathe more freely now that he is gone.  Your poor friend upstairs, John, has not died in vain.”

“But he’s not dead, Halbert!” almost sobbed the Squire.

“Not yet,” replied the doctor, gravely.