know；〃　she　said；　and　swooned　all　her　length　on　the　matted　floor。　　　　　Father　Brown　lifted　her　to　a　sofa；　flung　a　pot　of　water　over　her；　shouted　for　help；　and　then　rushed　down　to　the　landing…stage　of　the　little　island。　　But　the　canoe　was　already　in　mid…stream；　and　old　Paul　was　pulling　and　pushing　it　up　the　river　with　an　energy　incredible　at　his　years。　　　　　〃I　will　save　my　master；〃　he　cried；　his　eyes　blazing　maniacally。　〃I　will　save　him　yet！〃　　　　　Father　Brown　could　do　nothing　but　gaze　after　the　boat　as　it　struggled　up…stream　and　pray　that　the　old　man　might　waken　the　little　town　in　time。　　　　　〃A　duel　is　bad　enough；〃　he　muttered；　rubbing　up　his　rough　dust…coloured　hair；　〃but　there's　something　wrong　about　this　duel；　even　as　a　duel。　　I　feel　it　in　my　bones。　　But　what　can　it　be？〃　　　　　As　he　stood　staring　at　the　water；　a　wavering　mirror　of　sunset；　he　heard　from　the　other　end　of　the　island　garden　a　small　but　unmistakable　soundthe　cold　concussion　of　steel。　　He　turned　his　head。　　　　　Away　on　the　farthest　cape　or　headland　of　the　long　islet；　on　a　strip　of　turf　beyond　the　last　rank　of　roses；　the　duellists　had　already　crossed　swords。　　Evening　above　them　was　a　dome　of　virgin　gold；　and；　distant　as　they　were；　every　detail　was　picked　out。　They　had　cast　off　their　coats；　but　the　yellow　waistcoat　and　white　hair　of　Saradine；　the　red　waistcoat　and　white　trousers　of　Antonelli；　glittered　in　the　level　light　like　the　colours　of　the　dancing　clockwork　dolls。　　The　two　swords　sparkled　from　point　to　pommel　like　two　diamond　pins。　　There　was　something　frightful　in　the　two　figures　appearing　so　little　and　so　gay。　　They　looked　like　two　butterflies　trying　to　pin　each　other　to　a　cork。　　　　　Father　Brown　ran　as　hard　as　he　could；　his　little　legs　going　like　a　wheel。　　But　when　he　came　to　the　field　of　combat　he　found　he　was　born　too　late　and　too　earlytoo　late　to　stop　the　strife；　under　the　shadow　of　the　grim　Sicilians　leaning　on　their　oars；　and　too　early　to　anticipate　any　disastrous　issue　of　it。　　For　the　two　men　were　singularly　well　matched；　the　prince　using　his　skill　with　a　sort　of　cynical　confidence；　the　Sicilian　using　his　with　a　murderous　care。　　Few　finer　fencing　matches　can　ever　have　been　seen　in　crowded　amphitheatres　than　that　which　tinkled　and　sparkled　on　that　forgotten　island　in　the　reedy　river。　　The　dizzy　fight　was　balanced　so　long　that　hope　began　to　revive　in　the　protesting　priest；　by　all　common　probability　Paul　must　soon　come　back　with　the　police。　　It　would　be　some　comfort　even　if　Flambeau　came　back　from　his　fishing；　for　Flambeau；　physically　speaking；　was　worth　four　other　men。　　But　there　was　no　sign　of　Flambeau；　and；　what　was　much　queerer；　no　sign　of　Paul　or　the　police。　　No　other　raft　or　stick　was　left　to　float　on；　in　that　lost　island　in　that　vast　nameless　pool；　they　were　cut　off　as　on　a　rock　in　the　Pacific。　　　　　Almost　as　he　had　the　thought　the　ringing　of　the　rapiers　quickened　to　a　rattle；　the　prince's　arms　flew　up；　and　the　point　shot　out　behind　between　his　shoulder…blades。　　He　went　over　with　a　great　whirling　movement；　almost　like　one　throwing　the　half　of　a　boy's　cart…wheel。　　The　sword　flew　from　his　hand　like　a　shooting　star；　and　dived　into　the　distant　river。　　And　he　himself　sank　with　so　earth…shaking　a　subsidence　that　he　broke　a　big　rose…tree　with　his　body　and　shook　up　into　the　sky　a　cloud　of　red　earthlike　the　smoke　of　some　heathen　sacrifice。　　The　Sicilian　had　made　blood…offering　to　the　ghost　of　his　father。　　　　　The　priest　was　instantly　on　his　knees　by　the　corpse；　but　only　to　make　too　sure　that　it　was　a　corpse。　　As　he　was　still　trying　some　last　hopeless　tests　he　heard　for　the　first　time　voices　from　farther　up　the　river；　and　saw　a　police　boat　shoot　up　to　the　landing…stage；　with　constables　and　other　important　people；　including　the　excited　Paul。　　The　little　priest　rose　with　a　distinctly　dubious　grimace。　　　　　〃Now；　why　on　earth；〃　he　muttered；　〃why　on　earth　couldn't　he　have　come　before？〃　　　　　Some　seven　minutes　later　the　island　was　occupied　by　an　invasion　of　townsfolk　and　police；　and　the　latter　had　put　their　hands　on　the　victorious　duellist；　ritually　reminding　him　that　anything　he　said　might　be　used　against　him。　　　　　〃I　shall　not　say　anything；〃　said　the　monomaniac；　with　a　wonderful　and　peaceful　face。　　〃I　shall　never　say　anything　more。　I　am　very　happy；　and　I　only　want　to　be　hanged。〃　　　　　Then　he　shut　his　mouth　as　they　led　him　away；　and　it　is　the　strange　but　certain　truth　that　he　never　opened　it　again　in　this　world；　except　to　say　〃Guilty〃　at　his　trial。　　　　　Father　Brown　had　stared　at　the　suddenly　crowded　garden；　the　arrest　of　the　man　of　blood；　the　carrying　away　of　the　corpse　after　its　examination　by　the　doctor；　rather　as　one　watches　the　break…up　of　some　ugly　dream；　he　was　motionless；　like　a　man　in　a　nightmare。　He　gave　his　name　and　address　as　a　witness；　but　declined　their　offer　of　a　boat　to　the　shore；　and　remained　alone　in　the　island　garden；　gazing　at　the　broken　rose　bush　and　the　whole　green　theatre　of　that　swift　and　inexplicable　tragedy。　　The　light　died　along　the　river；　mist　rose　in　the　marshy　banks；　a　few　belated　birds　flitted　fitfully　across。　　　　　Stuck　stubbornly　in　his　sub…consciousness　（which　was　an　unusually　lively　one）　was　an　unspeakable　certainty　that　there　was　something　still　unexplained。　　This　sense　that　had　clung　to　him　all　day　could　not　be　fully　explained　by　his　fancy　about　〃looking…glass　land。〃　　Somehow　he　had　not　seen　the　real　story；　but　some　game　or　masque。　　And　yet　people　do　not　get　hanged　or　run　through　the　body　for　the　sake　of　a　charade。　　　　　As　he　sat　on　the　steps　of　the　landing…stage　ruminating　he　grew　conscious　of　the　tall；　dark　streak　of　a　sail　coming　silently　down　the　shining　river；　and　sprang　to　his　feet　with　such　a　backrush　of　feeling　that　he　almost　wept。　　　　　〃Flambeau！〃　he　cried；　and　shook　his　friend　by　both　hands　again　and　again；　much　to　the　astonishment　of　that　sportsman；　as　he　came　on　shore　with　his　fishing　tackle。　　〃Flambeau；〃　he　said；　〃so　you're　not　killed？〃　　　　　〃Killed！〃　repeated　the　angler　in　great　astonishment。　　〃And　why　should　I　be　killed？〃　　　　　〃Oh；　because　nearly　everybody　else　is；〃　said　his　companion　rather　wildly。　　〃Saradine　got　murdered；　and　Antonelli　wants　to　be　hanged；　and　his　mother's　fainted；　and　I；　for　one；　don't　know　whether　I'm　in　this　world　or　the　next。　　But；　thank　God；　you're　in　the　same　one。〃　　And　he　took　the　bewildered　Flambeau's　arm。　　　　　As　they　turned　from　the　landing…stage　they　came　under　the　eaves　of　the　low　bamboo　house；　and　looked　in　through　one　of　the　windows；　as　they　had　done　on　their　first　arrival。　　They　beheld　a　lamp…lit　interior　well　calculated　to　arrest　their　eyes。　　The　table　in　the　long　dining…room　had　been　laid　for　dinner　when　Saradine's　destroyer　had　fallen　like　a　stormbolt　on　the　island。　　And　the　dinner　was　now　in　placid　progress；　for　Mrs。　Anthony　sat　somewhat　sullenly　at　the　foot　of　the　table；　while　at　the　head　of　it　was　Mr。　Paul；　the　major　domo；　eating　and　drinking　of　the　best；　his　bleared；　bluish　eyes　standing　queerly　out　of　his　face；　his　gaunt　countenance　inscrutable；　but　by　no　means　devoid　of　satisfaction。　　　　　With　a　gesture　of　powerful　impatience；　Flambeau　rattled　at　the　window；　wrenched　it　open；　and　put　an　indignant　head　into　the　lamp…lit　room。　　　　　〃Well；〃　he　cried。　　〃I　can　understand　you　may　need　some　refreshment；　but　really　to　steal　your　master's　dinner　while　he　lies　murdered　in　the　garden〃　　　　　〃I　have　stolen　a　great　many　things　in　a　long　and　pleasant　life；〃　replied　the　strange　old　gentleman　placidly；　〃this　dinner　is　one　of　the　few　things　I　have　not　stolen。　　This　dinner　and　this　house　and　garden　happen　to　belong　to　me。〃　　　　　A　thought　flashed　across　Flambeau's　face。　　〃You　mean　to　say；〃　he　began；　〃that　the　will　of　Prince　Saradine〃　　　　　〃I　am　Prince　Saradine；〃　said　the　old　man；　munching　a　salted　almond。　　　　　Father　Brown；　who　was　looking　at　the　birds　outside；　jumped　as　if　he　were　shot；　and　put　in　at　the　window　a　pale　face　like　a　turnip。　　　　　〃You　are　what？〃　he　repeated　in　a　shrill　voice。　　　　　〃Paul；　Prince　Saradine；　A　vos　ordres；〃　said　the　venerable　person　politely；　lifting　a　glass　of　sherry。　　〃I　live　here　very　quietly；　being　a　domestic　kind　of　fellow；　and　for　the　sake　of　modesty　I　am　called　Mr。　Paul；　to　distinguish　me　from　my　unfortunate　brother　Mr。　Stephen。　　He　died；　I　hear；　recentlyin　the　garden。　　Of　course；　it　is　not　my　fault　if　enemies　pursue　him　to　this　place。　　It　is　owing　to　the　regrettable　irregularity　of　his　life。　　He　was　not　a　domestic　character。〃　　　　　He　relapsed　into　silence；　and　continued　to　gaze　at　the　opposite　wall　just　above　the　bowed　and　sombre　head　of　the　woman。　They　saw　plainly　the　family　likeness　that　had　haunted　them　in　the　dead　man。　　Then　his　old　shoulders　began　to　heave　and　shake　a　little；　as　if　he　were　choking；　but　his　face　did　not　alter。　　　　　〃My　God！〃　cried　Flambeau　after　a　pause；　〃he's　laughing！〃　　　　　〃Come　away；〃　said　Father　Brown；　who　was　quite　white。　　〃Come　away　from　this　house　of　hell。　　Let　us　get　into　an　honest　boat　again。〃　　　　　Night　had　sunk　on　rushes　and　river　by　the　time　they　had　pushed　off　from　the　island；　and　they　went　down…stream　in　the　dark；　warming　themselves　with　two　big　cigars　that　glowed　like　crimson　ships'　lanterns。　　Father　Brown　took　his　cigar　out　of　his　mouth　and　said：　　　　　〃I　suppose　you　can　guess　the　whole　story　now？　　After　all；　it's　a　primitive　story。　　A　man　had　two　enemies。　　He　was　a