hauled, and I poked about these two articles of furniture with a stick I carried with me very carefully, and very closely, but no one accompanying me would have understood my movements. However, I found nothing and turned my attention to the bed, still rumpled and upset, and at last wrapping my hand in my handkerchief, and on the top of that a small towel, I started to prod and push about the pillows.
I had been at this work from the start about three hours before I gave a sudden jump, and looked anxiously at the palm of my hand, and I admit I felt a sudden sensation of deadly fear, carefully as I had protected myself. After that, if you had watched me, you would have seen me very slowly and with infinite care draw from the pillow I last examined a pin—a thing six inches long—which I could not get entirely away until, with my pocket scissors, I had cut the linen cover. Then I held very gingerly in my fingers one of those long pins used by ladies with a round black head, the point of which appeared to be rusty, and which had evidently been sewn into the pillow itself.
The mystery was solved! Poor unsuspecting Francis had laid his head down on this death-
