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It was ained any considerable command of her faculties, and she afterwards told me that she was even thenas a weird dreath, however, she realised that she had had an actual experience, and that it was of sufficient ily hastened to lay the whole matter before me, and I, in my turn, notified the police, who, at once instituted as thorough a search as Gwen's description made possible She had told ht hair, and a cast of features that gave no hint of any Ethiopian taint This, and his halting gait and great stature, were all the police had in the way of description, and I may as well add that the information was insufficient, for they never found any trace of Gwen's assailant

I had had some hopes of this clue, but they were doomed to disappoint were ever done in bringing Mr Darrow's assassin to justice, Maitland would have to do it, unless, indeed, M Godin solved the problem Osborne, Allen, and their associates were simply out of the question

We debated for some time as to whether or not we should write Maitland about Gwen's strange experience, and finally decided that the knowledge would be a constant source of worri of the least assistance to him while he was so far away We, therefore, decided to keep our own counsel, for the present at least

Maitland had written us a few lines fro us the result of his analysis, and ended by saying: There is no doubt that Mr Darrow died of poison injected into the blood through the slight wound in the throat This wound was not deep, and seemed to have been torn rather than cut in the flesh What sort of weapon or projectile produced that wound is a question of the utmost importance, shrouded in the deepest of mysteries Once this point is settled, however, its very uniqueness will be greatly in our favour I have an idea our friend Ragobah ht upon this subject, therefore I a on my way to visit him this afternoon, and shall write you en route whenever occasion offers My kindest regards to Miss Darrow Yours sincerely, GEORGE MAITLAND

P S I shall have leisure now on shipboard to set tie that question of atomic pitches, which is still a thorn in my intellectual flesh