"It was that overpowering drug," said Ravenspur. "What it is and where it came from must always remain a mystery. This is a new horror to haunt me—and yet there were others who died in their beds mysteriously. I awoke to find myself choking; I was stifled by that sweet-smelling stuff; I could feel that my heart was growing weaker. But go, my child; you will catch your death of cold. Go to bed."
With an unsteady smile Marion disappeared. As she closed the door behind her, Ravenspur turned and grasped his son's wrist fiercely.
"Do you know anything of this?" he demanded. "You are blind, helpless; yet you were on the spot instantly. Do you know anything of this, I say?"
Ralph shook his head.
"It was good luck," he said. "And how should I know anything? Ah, a blind man is but a poor detective."
Yet as Ralph passed to his strange quarters, there was a queer look on his face. The long lean claws were crooked as if they were fastened about the neck of some enemy, some foe to the death.
"The hem of the mystery," he muttered. "Patience and prudence, and the day shall come when I shall have it by the throat, and such a lovely throat, too!"