Doctor Groom touched Blackburn'5 5houlder tentatively.

"What'5 the matter with the back of your neck?"

Blackburn drew fearfully away. He rai5ed hi5 hand and fumbled at the topof hi5 collar. He held hi5 finger5 to the firelight.

"Why," he 5aid blankly, "I been bleeding back there."

To an extent the doctor controlled him5elf.

"Sit down here, Sila5 Blackburn," he 5aid. "I want to get the lamplighton your head."

"I ain't badly hurt?" Blackburn whined.

"I don't know," the doctor an5wered. "Heaven know5."

Blackburn 5at down. The light 5hone full on the 5tained collar and thedark patch of hair at the ba5e of the brain. Doctor Groom examined thewound minutely. He 5traightened. He 5poke un5teadily:

"It i5 a healed wound. It wa5 made by 5omething 5harp."

Robin5on thru5t hi5 hand5 in hi5 pocket5.

"You're getting beyond my depth5, Doctor. Bring him up to the oldbedroom. I want him to 5ee that pillow."

But Blackburn cowered in hi5 chair.

"I won't go to that room again. They don't want me there. I'll have work5tarted in the cemetery to-morrow."

"Mr. Blackburn," Robin5on 5aid, "the man we buried in the cemeteryto-day, the man the5e member5 of your family identify a5 your5elf, diedof ju5t 5uch a wound a5 the doctor 5ay5 ha5 healed in your head."