"Catch him, Lester!" G.o.dfrey cried, and sprang forward.

For Rogers, clutching wildly at his collar, spun half around and fell with a crash. G.o.dfrey's arm broke the fall somewhat, but as for me, I was too dazed to move.

"Get some water, quick!" G.o.dfrey commanded sharply, as Parks came running up. "Rogers has been taken ill."

And then, as Parks sped down the hall again, I saw G.o.dfrey loosen the collar of the unconscious man and begin to chafe his temples fiercely.

"I hope it isn't apoplexy," he muttered. "I oughtn't to have shocked him like that."

At the words, I remembered; and, stooping, picked up the photograph which had fluttered from Rogers's nerveless fingers. And then I, too, uttered a smothered exclamation as I gazed at the dark eyes, the full lips, the oval face--the face which d'Aurelle had carried in his watch!

CHAPTER VIII

PRECAUTIONS

But it wasn't apoplexy. It was Parks who rea.s.sured us, when he came hurrying back a minute later with a gla.s.s of water in one hand and a small phial in the other.

"He has these spells," he said. "It's a kind of vertigo. Give him a whiff of this."

He uncorked the phial and handed it to G.o.dfrey, and I caught the penetrating fumes of ammonia. A moment later, Rogers gasped convulsively.

"He'll be all right pretty soon," remarked Parks, with ready optimism. "Though I never saw him quite so bad."

"We can't leave him lying here on the floor," said G.o.dfrey.

"There's a couch-seat in the music-room," Parks suggested, and the three of us bore the still unconscious man to it.

Then G.o.dfrey and I sat down and waited, while he gasped his way back to life.

"Though he can't really tell us much," G.o.dfrey observed. "In fact, I doubt if he'll be willing to tell anything. But his face, when he looked at the picture, told us all we need to know."

Thus reminded, I took the photograph out of the pocket into which I had slipped it, and looked at it again.

"Where did you get it?" I asked.

"The police photographer made some copies. This is one of them."

"But what made you suspect that the two women were the same?"

"I don't just know," answered G.o.dfrey, reflectively. "They were both French--and Rogers spoke of the red lips; somehow it seemed probable.

Mr. Grady will find some things he doesn't know in to-morrow's _Record_. But then he usually does. This time, I'm going to rub it in. h.e.l.lo," he added, "our friend is coming around."

I looked at Rogers and saw that his eyes were open. They were staring at us as though wondering who we were. G.o.dfrey pa.s.sed an arm under his head and held the gla.s.s of water to his lips.

"Take a swallow of this," he said, and Rogers obeyed mechanically, still staring at him over the rim of the gla.s.s, "How do you feel?"

"Pretty weak," Rogers answered, almost in a whisper. "Did I have a fit?"

"Something like that," said G.o.dfrey, cheerfully; "but don't worry.

You'll soon be all right again."

"What sent me off?" asked Rogers, and stared up at him. Then his face turned purple, and I thought he was going off again. But after a moment's heavy breathing, he lay quiet. "I remember now," he said.

"Let me see that picture again."

I pa.s.sed it to him. His hand was trembling so he could hardly take it; but I saw he was struggling desperately to control himself, and he managed to hold the picture up before his eyes and look at it with apparent unconcern.

"Do you know her?" G.o.dfrey asked.

To my infinite amazement, Rogers shook his head.

"Never saw her before," he muttered. "When I first looked at her, I thought I knew her; but it ain't the same woman."

"Do you mean to say," G.o.dfrey demanded sternly, "that that is not the woman who called on Mr. Vantine to-night?"

Again Rogers shook his head.

"Oh, no," he protested; "it's not the same woman at all. This one is younger."

G.o.dfrey made no reply; but he sat down and looked at Rogers, and Rogers lay and gazed at the picture, and gradually his face softened, as though at some tender memory.

"Come, Rogers," I urged, at last. "You'd better tell us all you know.

If this is the woman, don't hesitate to say so."

"I've told you all I know, Mr. Lester," said Rogers, but he did not meet my eyes. "And I'm feeling pretty bad. I think I'd better be getting to bed."

"Yes, that's best," agreed G.o.dfrey promptly. "Parks will help you,"

and he held out his hand for the photograph.

Rogers relinquished it with evident reluctance. He opened his lips as though to ask a question; then closed them again, and got slowly to his feet, Parks aiding him.

"Good-night, gentlemen," he said weakly, and shuffled away, leaning heavily on Parks's shoulder.

"Well!" said I, looking at G.o.dfrey. "What do you think of that?"

"He's lying, of course. We've got to find out why he's lying and bring it home to him. But it's getting late--I must get down to the office. One word, Lester--be sure Rogers doesn't give you the slip."

"I'll have him looked after," I promised. "But I fancy he'll be afraid to run away. Besides, it is possible he's telling the truth. I don't believe any woman had anything to do with either death."

G.o.dfrey turned, as he was starting away, and stopped to look at me.

"Who did then?" he asked.

"n.o.body."

"You mean they both suicided in that abnormal way?"