"Without the diamonds--now?"

"I'm no use," groaned the younger man.

"Hold up, curse you! It's fortune of war. One man down. Prize-money to divide between two instead of three."

"Hah!" ejaculated the other, upon whom his comrade's words acted like magic. "I'm all sight, now. Quick! let's have 'em!"

The elder man had already thrust his hand into Mark's breast.

"Well?"

"All right."

"Are they there?"

"Yes; safe enough."

"Get 'em out, then, and let's go. Curse it! Look at old Roger's eyes."

There was a dull heavy sound of a door banged, and the two men started up in an agony of dread that the spoil for which they had toiled so patiently and long, never getting it within their clutch till now, was about to be snatched away.

It was a door that had been banged, and in their ignorance of the configuration of the place they did not realise that it was in the next house.

"Keep your head," said the elder man.

"Right. I'm cool enough," was the reply. "Quick! get 'em out, and let's go!"

"It would take half an hour to get at them. He has a belt buckled round his waist under everything, and there'll be stones sewn into his clothes all over."

"Curse it all!"

"Hush! Quick! Take hold of that ulster, and there's his hat."

"What are you going to do?"

"We've got him. He's drugged, and we can do what we like."

"What! bring him away?"

"Yes. Quick! take hold of that arm!"

"But if he wakes?"

"Send him to sleep, as we did the doctor. Now, held your row, do as I do, and keep your head."

The younger man obeyed, and catching Mark Heath's arm, as his companion had done on the other side, they placed his hat upon his head, and in a half-conscious way he made an effort to walk, so that they had no difficulty in getting him into the surgery.

"Now, then, button-up. I'll hold him," said the elder man.

"But when we get him in the street?" whispered the other.

"Well--what? He's drunk. We'll get him in a cab. No one will interfere. Leave it to me, and back me up. Quick! shut that door; and then turn on the light."

The orders were obeyed; and as soon as they stood in the darkness the lobby-door was opened, where the red light gave them sufficient illumination to finish their proceedings.

Another minute, and, their victim's arm well gripped on either side, the elder man said hoarsely, "Ready?"

"Yes; but are you sure that he had the stuff on him?"

"Trust me for that. Now, be cool, and the diamonds are ours. Off!"

The outer door was opened, and with very little difficulty Mark Heath was half-lifted, half-led outside, in an inert, helpless condition, his brain steeped in sleep, and his mind a blank. Then the two men stood in the snow, listening for a sound within the house.

It was the elder who spoke then:

"Get your arm well under him. Hold hard! Shut the door. Mind he don't slip down. It's dark as pitch. Now, then, come on."

At that moment John Whyley turned on his lamp.

CHAPTER TEN.

"AY, MARRY IS'T; CROWNER'S QUEST LAW."

A jury of men, chosen with the careful selection always made by the coroner's officer, and with such extraordinary happy results, sat solemnly and listened to the evidence, after hearing the coroner's preliminary address, and viewing the body of the deceased.

Witness by witness, all were examined. John Whyley told all he knew, and produced the life-preserver; Richmond Chartley, brought from her father's bedside, where he lay perfectly insensible, gave her account of the proceedings, and directly after joined Janet Heath, who was her companion, and sat down to try once more to disentangle her thoughts, which, from the time she had left the surgery with the bottle of chloral till she was alarmed by the persistent ringing of the doctor's night-bell, had been in a state of wild confusion.

Hendon Chartley gave his evidence. How he had been spending the evening with a gentleman of his acquaintance, and on letting himself in with his latch-key he had heard voices in the surgery, and gone there.

Mr James Poynter, the gentleman with whom Hendon Chartley had been dining corroborated the last witness, and seemed disgusted that he had not a better part to play, especially after his announcement to the coroner that he was a great friend of the family.

For some reason of their own, the sapient jurymen exchanged glances several times during the evidence of the last two witnesses, and shook their heads, while one man began to make notes on the sheet of paper before him with a very scratchy pen, whereupon two more immediately caught the complaint, and the foreman regretted to himself that he wasn't as handy with ink as he could wish.

The surgeon was of course a very important witness, and he told how the man upon whose body the inquest was being held had undoubtedly died of an excessive dose of hydrocyanic acid, of which poison there was, naturally enough, a bottle in the doctor's surgery; but how it had been administered, whether by accident, purposely, or with suicidal intent, it was impossible to say; and apparently the only man who could throw any light upon the subject was Doctor Chartley himself, who was now lying in a precarious state, perfectly insensible from the pressure of bone upon the brain, and too feeble for an operation to be performed.

"Not the only man," said one of the jury; "three men were seen by the policeman to leave the surgery."

The coroner said "Exactly;" and there was a murmur of assent; while, after stating that it was impossible to say how long Dr Chartley would be before he could appear, and that it was quite possible that he would never be able to give evidence at all, the surgeon's evidence came to an end.

Elizabeth Gundry was called; and a frightened-looking smudgy woman came forward, trembling and fighting hard not to burst into tears, hysterical sobbing having filled up so much of her time since the foggy night that her voice had degenerated into an appealing whine. She was smudgy-looking, but undoubtedly clean; only life in underground kitchens, and the ingraining of London blacks with the baking process of cookery, had given her skin an unwholesome tinge, which her reddened eyes did not improve.

Questioned, she knew nothing but that she thought she had heard the doctor's bell ring; but that she always put her head under the clothes if she did hear it, and she did so that night. Further questioned why, she said with sobs that it was a very large house, and nobody was kept but her and Bob; and she was "that tired when she went to bed that she thought it weren't fair to expect her to get up and answer the night-bell, and so she never would hear it if it rang. It warn't her place; for though she did housemaid's work, and there was two sets of front-doorsteps, she considered herself a cook."

Here there was a furious burst of sobbing, and the foreman of the jury wanted to know why.

Now he, being a pleasant-looking man, won upon Elizabeth Gundry more than the coroner did, that gentleman being suggestive of an extremely sharp ratting terrier grown fat. So Elizabeth informed the foreman that her grief was, of course, partly on account of master, and she thought it very shocking for there to be a murder in "our house;" but what she wanted to know was what had become of Bob, whom she was sure one of those bad men had smuggled away under his coat.