olly lay on her bed. Dr. Graham and Dr. Robertson, the West Indian police doctor stood on one side, Tim on the other. Robertson had his hand on Molly's pulse. He nodded to the man at the foot of the bed, a slender dark man in police uniform. Inspector Weston of the St. Honorй Police Force.

“A bare statement-no more.” the doctor said.

The other nodded.

''Now, Mrs. Kendal-just tell us how you came to find this girl."

For a moment or two it was as though the figure on the bed had not heard. Then she spoke in a faint, far-away voice.

“In the bushes-white...”

“You saw something white-and you looked to see what it was? Is that it?”

“Yes-white-lying there-I tried-tried to lift-she-it-blood-blood all over my hands.”

She began to tremble.

Dr. Graham shook his head at them.

Robertson whispered: “She can't stand much more.”

“What were you doing on the beach path, Mrs. Kendal?”

“Warm-nice-by the sea-”

“You knew who the girl was?”

“Victoria-nice-nice girl-laughs-she used to laugh-oh! and now she won't- She won't ever laugh again. I'll never forget it- I'll never forget it-” Her voice rose hysterically.

“Molly-don't.” It was Tim.

“Quiet- Quiet-” Dr. Robertson spoke with a soothing authority. “Just relax, relax. Now just a small prick-” He withdrew the hypodermic. “She'll be in no fit condition to be questioned for at least twenty-four hours,” he said. “I'll let you know when.”