or three days there was hope of her being allowed to visit him.
Several times the police made inquiry of me, but I could tell them nothing. I could not for the life of me recollect where I had before seen the face of that man who had passed in the darkness.
One afternoon, ten days after the attempt upon Jack, I was allowed to sit by his bedside and question him.
"Ah, Gordon, old fellow!" he said faintly. "I've had a narrow escape — by Jove! After I left you I walked quickly on towards the club, when, all of a sudden, two scoundrels sprang out of Suffolk Street, and one of them fired a revolver full at me. Then I know no more."
"But who were the men? Did you recognize them?"
"No, not at all. That's the worst of it."
"But Muriel knows who they were?" I said.
"Ah, yes! Bring her here, won't you?" the poor fellow implored. "I'm dying to see her once again."
Then I told him how she had looked upon him while unconscious, and how I had taken the daily bulletin to her. For an hour I talked with him, urging him to get well soon, so that we could unite in probing the mystery and bringing to justice those responsible for the dastardly act.
"Muriel knows, and if she loves you she will no doubt assist us," I said.
"Oh, she does love me, Gordon. I know that," said the prostrate man smiling contentedly, and
