"A stone in every one--must be all of the really valuable loot! The
settings were out of date--small value. How'd you get it from him,
Tom?"

Blake hesitated, and answered in a low tone: "He got hurt the night of
the second cyclone. But he wasn't responsible--poor devil! He must
have been dotty all along. It didn't show much before--but I felt
uneasy. That's why I built that thorn door--so she could bar herself
in."

Lord James stared in horrified surprise. "You really do not mean--?"

"Yes--and it almost happened! God!" Again Blake clenched his teeth and
the cold sweat burst out on his forehead.

"My word! That's worse than the snake!" murmured Lord James.

"She--she'd left the door up--heat was stifling," explained Blake. "I
had gone off north, exploring. The beast was crawling in--But I've got
to remember he wasn't responsible--a paranoiac!"

"Ah, yes. And then?" questioned the Englishman, tugging nervously at
the tip of his little blond mustache.

"Then--then--" muttered Blake. "He got what was coming to him. Cyclone
struck like a tornado. Door whirled down and knocked him out of the
opening--smashed him!"

"The end he had earned!"