THE SECRET HOUSE

By EDGAR WALLACE

[Illustration: Publisher's logo]

A. L. BURT COMPANYPublishers New York

Printed in U. S. A. 

Copyright, 1919BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY(INCORPORATED)

Second Printing, August, 1919

THE SECRET HOUSE

CHAPTER I

A man stood irresolutely before the imposing portals of Cainbury House, a large office building let out to numerous small tenants, andharbouring, as the indicator on the tiled wall of the vestibuletestified, some thirty different professions. The man was evidentlypoor, for his clothes were shabby and his boots were down at heel. Hewas as evidently a foreigner. His clean-shaven eagle face was sallow, his eyes were dark, his eyebrows black and straight. 

He passed up the few steps into the hall and stood thoughtfully beforethe indicator. Presently he found what he wanted. At the very top of thelist and amongst the crowded denizens of the fifth floor was a slipinscribed:

 "THE GOSSIP'S CORNER"

He took from his waistcoat pocket a newspaper cutting and compared thetwo then stepped briskly, almost jauntily, into the hall, as though allhis doubts and uncertainties had vanished, and waited for the elevator. His coat was buttoned tightly, his collar was frayed, his shirt had seenthe greater part of a week's service, the Derby hat on his head hadundergone extensive renovations, and a close observer would have noticedthat his gloves were odd ones. 

He walked into the lift and said, "Fifth floor, " with a slight foreignaccent. 

He was whirled up, the lift doors clanged open and the grimy finger ofthe elevator boy indicated the office. Again the man hesitated, examining the door carefully. The upper half was of toughened glass andbore the simple inscription:

 "THE GOSSIP'S CORNER. KNOCK. "

Obediently the stranger knocked and the door opened through an invisibleagent, much to the man's surprise, though there was nothing more magicalabout the phenomenon than there is about any electrically controlledoffice door. 

He found himself in a room sparsely furnished with a table, a chair anda few copies of papers. An old school map of England hung on one walland a Landseer engraving on the other. At the farthermost end of theroom was another door, and to this he gravitated and again, after amoment's hesitation, he knocked. 

"Come in, " said a voice. 

He entered cautiously. 

The room was larger and was comfortably furnished. There were shadedelectric lamps on either side of the big carved oak writing-table. Oneof the walls was covered with books, and the litter of proofs upon thetable suggested that this was the sanctorum. 

But the most remarkable feature of the room was the man who sat at thedesk. He was a man solidly built and, by his voice, of middle age. Hisface the new-comer could not see and for excellent reason. It was hiddenbehind a veil of fine silk net which had been adjusted over the headlike a loose bag and tightened under the chin. 

The man at the table chuckled when he saw the other's surprise. 

"Sit down, " he said--he spoke in French--"and don't, I beg of you, bealarmed. "

"Monsieur, " said the new-comer easily, "be assured that I am notalarmed. In this world nothing has ever alarmed me except my owndistressing poverty and the prospect of dying poor. "

The veiled figure said nothing for a while. 

"You have come in answer to my advertisement, " he said after a longpause. 

The other bowed. 

"You require an assistant, Monsieur, " said the new-comer, "discreet, with a knowledge of foreign languages and poor. I fulfill all thoserequirements, " he went on calmly; "had you also added, of an adventurousdisposition, with few if any scruples, it would have been equallydescriptive. "

The stranger felt that the man at the desk was looking at him, though hecould not see his eyes. It must have been a long and careful scrutiny, for presently the advertiser said gruffly:

"I think you'll do. "

"Exactly, " said the new-comer with cool assurance; "and now it is foryou, dear Monsieur, to satisfy me that you also will do. You will haveobserved that there are two parties to every bargain. First of all, myduties?"

The man in the chair leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets. 

"I am the editor of a little paper which circulates exclusively amongstthe servants of the upper classes, " he said. "I receive from time totime interesting communications concerning the aristocracy and gentry ofthis country, written by hysterical French maids and revengeful Italianvalets. I am not a good linguist, and I feel that there is much in theseepistles which I miss and which I should not miss. "

The new-comer nodded. 

"I therefore want somebody of discretion who will deal with my foreigncorrespondence, make a fair copy in English and summarize the complaintswhich these good people make. You quite understand, " he said with ashrug of his shoulders, "that mankind is not perfect, less perfect iswomankind, and least perfect is that section of mankind which employsservants. They usually have stories to tell not greatly to theirmasters' credit, not nice stories, you understand, my dear friend. Bythe way, what is your name?"

The stranger hesitated. 

"Poltavo, " he said after a pause. 

"Italian or Pole?" asked the other. 

"Pole, " replied Poltavo readily. 

"Well, as I was saying, " the editor went on, "we on this paper are veryanxious to secure news of society doings. If they are printable, weprint them; if they are not printable"--he paused--"we do not printthem. But, " he raised a warning forefinger, "the fact that particularsof disgraceful happenings are not fit for publication must not induceyou to cast such stories into the wastepaper basket. We keep a recordof such matters for our own private amusement. " He said this latterairily, but Poltavo was not deceived. 

Again there was a long silence whilst the man at the table ruminated. 

"Where do you live?" he asked. 

"On the fourth floor of a small house in Bloomsbury, " replied Poltavo. 

The veiled figure nodded. 

"When did you come to this country?"

"Six months ago. "

"Why?"

Poltavo shrugged his shoulders. 

"Why?" insisted the man at the table. 

"A slight matter of disagreement between myself and the admirable chiefof police of Sans Sebastian, " he said as airily as the other. 

Again the figure nodded. 

"If you had told me anything else, I should not have engaged you, " hesaid. 

"Why?" asked Poltavo in surprise. 

"Because you are speaking the truth, " said the other coolly. "Yourmatter of disagreement with the police in Sans Sebastian was over themissing of some money in the hotel where you were staying. The roomhappened to be next to yours and communicating, if one had the ingenuityto pick the lock of the door. Also your inability to pay the hotel billhastened your departure. "

"What an editor!" said the other admiringly, but without showing anysigns of perturbation or embarrassment. 

"It is my business to know something about everybody, " said the editor. "By the way, you may call me Mr. Brown, and if at times I may seemabsent-minded when I am so addressed you must excuse me, because it isnot my name. Yes, you are the kind of man I want. "

"It is remarkable that you should have found me, " said Poltavo. "Thecutting"--he indicated the newspaper clip--"was sent to me by an unknownfriend. "

"I was the unknown friend, " said "Mr. Brown"; "do you understand theposition?"

Poltavo nodded. 

"I understand everything, " he said, "except the last and most importantof all matters; namely, the question of my salary. "

The man named a sum--a generous sum to Poltavo, and Mr. Brown, eyeinghim keenly, was glad to note that his new assistant was neithersurprised nor impressed. 

"You will see very little of me at this office, " the editor went on. "Ifyou work well, and I can trust you, I will double the salary I amgiving you; if you fail me, you will be sorry for yourself. "

He rose. 

"That finishes our interview. You will come here to-morrow morning andlet yourself in. Here is the key of the door and a key to the safe inwhich I keep all correspondence. You will find much to incriminatesociety and precious little that will incriminate me. I expect you todevote the whole of your attention to this business, " he said slowly andemphatically. 

"You may be sure----" began Poltavo. 

"Wait, I have not finished. By devoting the whole of your attention tothe business, I mean I want you to have no spare time to conduct anyinvestigations as to my identity. By a method which I will not troubleto explain to you I am able to leave this building without any personbeing aware of the fact that I am the editor of this interestingpublication. When you have been through your letters I want you totranslate those which contain the most important particulars and forwardthem by a messenger who will call every evening at five o'clock. Yoursalary will be paid regularly, and you will not be bothered with anyeditorial duties. And now, if you will please go into the outer room andwait a few moments, you may return in five minutes and begin on thisaccumulation of correspondence. "

Poltavo, with a little bow, obeyed, and closed the door carefully behindhim. He heard a click, and knew that the same electric control which hadopened the outer door had now closed the inner. At the end of fiveminutes, as near as he could judge, he tried the door. It opened readilyand he stepped into the inner office. The room was empty. There was adoor leading out to the corridor, but something told the new assistantthat this was not the manner of egress which his employer had adopted. He looked round carefully. There was no other door, but behind the chairwhere the veiled man had sat was a large cupboard. This he openedwithout, however, discovering any solution to the mystery of Mr. Brown'sdisappearance, for the cupboard was filled with books and stationery. Hethen began a systematic search of the apartment. He tried all thedrawers of the desk and found they were open, whereupon his interest intheir contents evaporated, since he knew a gentleman of Mr. Brown's wideexperience was hardly likely to leave important particulars concerninghimself in an unlocked desk. Poltavo shrugged his shoulders, deftlyrolling a cigarette, which he lit, then pulling the chair up to the deskhe began to attack the pile of letters which awaited his attention. 

For six weeks Mr. Poltavo had worked with painstaking thoroughness inthe new service. Every Friday morning he had found on his desk anenvelope containing two bank notes neatly folded and addressed tohimself. Every evening at five o'clock a hard-faced messenger had calledand received a bulky envelope containing Poltavo's translations. 

The Pole was a keen student of the little paper, which he bought everyweek, and he had noted that very little of the information he hadgleaned appeared in print. Obviously then _Gossip's Corner_ served Mr. Brown in some other way than as a vehicle for scandal, and the veil waspartly lifted on this mysterious business on an afternoon when there hadcome a sharp tap at the outer door of the office. Poltavo pressed thebutton on the desk, which released the lock, and presently the tap wasrepeated on the inside door. 

The door opened and a girl stood in the entrance hesitating. 

"Won't you come in?" said Poltavo, rising. 

"Are you the editor of this paper?" asked the girl, as she slowly closedthe door behind her. 

Poltavo bowed. He was always ready to accept whatever honour chancebestowed upon him. Had she asked him if he were Mr. Brown, he would alsohave bowed. 

"I had a letter from you, " said the girl, coming to the other side ofthe table and resting her hand on its edge and looking down at him alittle scornfully, and a little fearfully, as Poltavo thought. 

He bowed again. He had not written letters to anybody save to hisemployer, but his conscience was an elastic one. 

"I write so many letters, " he said airily, "that I really forget whetherI have written to you or not. May I see the letter?"

She opened her bag, took out an envelope, removed the letter and passedit across to the interested young man. It was written on thenote-heading of _Gossip's Corner_, but the address had been scratchedout by a stroke of the pen. It ran:

"DEAR MADAM, --

"Certain very important information has come into my possessionregarding the relationships between yourself and Captain Brackly. I feelsure you cannot know that your name is being associated with thatofficer. As the daughter and heiress of the late Sir George Billk, youmay imagine that your wealth and position in society relieves you ofcriticism, but I can assure you that the stories which have been sent tome would, were they placed in the hands of your husband, lead to themost unhappy consequences. 

"In order to prevent this matter going any further, and in order tosilence the voices of your detractors, our special inquiry department iswilling to undertake the suppression of these scandal-mongers. It willcost you £10, 000, which should be paid to me in notes. If you agree, putan advertisement in the agony column of the _Morning Mist_, and I willarrange a meeting where the money can be paid over. On no accountaddress me at my office or endeavour to interview me there. 

 "Yours very truly, "J. BROWN. "

Poltavo read the letter and now the function of _Gossip's Corner_ wasvery clear. He refolded the letter and handed it back to the girl. 

"I may not be very clever, " said the visitor, "but I think I canunderstand what blackmail is when I see it. "

Poltavo was in a quandary, but only for a moment. 

"I did not write that letter, " he said suavely; "it was written withoutmy knowledge. When I said that I was the editor of this paper, I meant, of course, that I was the acting editor. Mr. Brown conducts his businessquite independently of myself. I know all the circumstances, " he addedhastily, since he was very anxious that the girl should not refuse himfurther information in the belief that he was an inconsiderablequantity, "and I sympathize with you most sincerely. "

A little smile curled the lips of the visitor. 

Poltavo was ever a judge of men and women, and he knew that this was noyielding, timid creature to be terrified by the fear of exposure. 

"The matter can be left in the hands of Captain Brackly and my husbandto settle, " she said. "I am going to take the letter to my solicitors. Ishall also show it to the two men most affected. "

Now the letter had been written four days earlier, as Poltavo had seen, and he argued that if it had not been revealed to these "two men mostaffected" in the first heat of the lady's anger and indignation, itwould never be shown at all. 

"I think you are very wise, " he said suavely. "After all, what is alittle unpleasantness of that character? Who cares about the publicationof a few letters?"

"Has he got letters?" asked the girl quickly, with a change of tone. 

Poltavo bowed again. 

"Will they be returned?" she asked. 

Poltavo nodded, and the girl bit her lips thoughtfully. 

"I see, " she said. 

She looked at the letter again and without another word went out. 

Poltavo accompanied her to the outer door. 

"It is the prettiest kind of blackmail, " she said at parting, and shespoke without heat. "I have only now to consider which will pay mebest. "

The Pole closed the door behind her and walked back to his inner office, opened the door and stood aghast, for sitting in the chair which he hadso recently vacated was the veiled man. 

He was chuckling, partly at Poltavo's surprise, partly at some amusingthought. 

"Well done, Poltavo, " he said; "excellently fenced. "

"Did you hear?" asked the Pole, surprised in spite of himself. 

"Every word, " said the other. "Well, what do you think of it?"

Poltavo pulled a chair from the wall and sat down facing his chief. 

"I think it is very clever, " he said admiringly, "but I also think I amnot getting sufficient salary. "

The veiled man nodded. 

"I think you are right, " he agreed, "and I will see that it isincreased. What a fool the woman was to come here!"

"Either a fool or a bad actress, " said Poltavo. 

"What do you mean?" asked the other quickly. 

Poltavo shrugged his shoulders. 

"To my mind, " he said after a moment's thought, "there is no doubt thatI have witnessed a very clever comedy. An effective one, I grant, because it has accomplished all that was intended. "

"And what was intended?" asked Mr. Brown curiously. 

"It was intended by you and carried out by you in order to convey to methe exact character of your business, " said Poltavo. "I judged that factfrom the following evidence. " He ticked off the points one by one on hislong white fingers. "The lady's name was, according to the envelope, letus say, Lady Cruxbury; but the lady's real name, according to somesilver initials on her bag, began with 'G. ' Those initials I also notedon the little handkerchief she took from her bag. Therefore she was notthe person to whom the letter was addressed, or if she was, the letterwas a blind. In such an important matter Lady Cruxbury would comeherself. My own view is that there is no Lady Cruxbury, that the wholeletter was concocted and was delivered to me whilst you were watching mefrom some hiding place in order to test my discretion, and, as I say, tomake me wise in the ways of your admirable journal. "

Mr. Brown laughed long and softly. 

"You are a clever fellow, Poltavo, " he said admiringly, "and youcertainly deserve your rise of salary. Now I am going to be frank withyou. I admit that the whole thing was a blind. You now know my business, and you now know my _raison d'être_, so to speak. Are you willing tocontinue?"

"At a price, " said the other. 

"Name it, " said the veiled man quietly. 

"I am a poor adventurer, " began Poltavo; "my life----"

"Cut all that stuff out, " said Mr. Brown roughly, "I am not going togive you a fortune. I am going to give you the necessities of life and alittle comfort. "

Poltavo walked to the window and thrusting his hands deep into histrouser pockets stared out. Presently he turned. "The necessities oflife to me, " he said, "are represented by a flat in St. James's Street, a car, a box at the Opera----"

"You will get none of these, " interrupted Mr. Brown. "Be reasonable. "

Poltavo smiled. 

"I am worth a fortune to you, " he said, "because I have imagination. Here, for example. " He picked out a letter from a heap on the desk andopened it. The caligraphy was typically Latin and the handwriting wasvile. "Here is a letter from an Italian, " he said, "which to the grossmind may perhaps represent wearisome business details. To a mind of mycalibre, it is clothed in rich possibilities. " He leaned across thetable; his eyes lighted up with enthusiasm. "There may be an enormousfortune in this, " and he tapped the letter slowly. "Here is a man whodesires the great English newspaper, of which he has heard (thoughHeaven only knows how he can have heard it), to discover the whereaboutsand the identity of a certain M. Fallock. "

The veiled man started. 

"Fallock, " he repeated. 

Poltavo nodded. 

"Our friend Fallock has built a house 'of great wonder, ' to quote theletter of our correspondent. In this house are buried millions oflira--doesn't that fire your imagination, dear colleague?"

"Built a house, did he?" repeated the other. 

"Our friends tell me, " Poltavo went on, --"did I tell you it was writtenon behalf of two men?--that they have a clue and in fact that they knowMr. Fallock's address, and they are sure he is engaged in a nefariousbusiness, but they require confirmation of their knowledge. "

The man at the table was silent. 

His fingers drummed nervously on the blotting pad and his head was sunkforward as a man weighing a difficult problem. 

"All child's talk, " he said roughly, "these buried treasures!--I haveheard of them before. They are just two imaginative foreigners. Isuppose they want you to advance their fare?"

"That is exactly what they do ask, " said Poltavo. 

The man at the desk laughed uneasily behind his veil and rose. 

"It's the Spanish prison trick, " he said; "surely you are not deceivedby that sort of stuff?"

Poltavo shrugged his shoulders. 

"Speaking as one who has also languished in a Spanish prison, " hesmiled, "and who has also sent out invitations to the generous people ofEngland to release him from his sad position--a release which could onlybe made by generous payments--I thoroughly understand the delicateworkings of that particular fraud; but we robbers of Spain, dearcolleague, do not write in our native language, we write in good, orbad, English. We write not in vilely spelt Italian because we know thatthe recipient of our letter will not take the trouble to get ittranslated. No, this is no Spanish prison trick. This is genuine. "

"May I see the letter?"

Poltavo handed it across the table, and the man turning his back for amoment upon his assistant lifted his veil and read. He folded the letterand put it in his pocket. 

"I will think about it, " he said gruffly. 

"Another privilege I would crave from you in addition to the purelynominal privilege of receiving more salary, " said Poltavo. 

"What is it?"

The Pole spread out his hands in a gesture of self-depreciation. 

"It is weak of me, I admit, " he said, "but I am anxious--foolishlyanxious--to return to the society of well-clothed men and pretty women. I pine for social life. It is a weakness of mine, " he addedapologetically. "I want to meet stockbrokers, financiers, politiciansand other _chevaliers d'industrie_ on equal terms, to wear the _grandehabit_, to listen to soft music, to drink good wine. "

"Well?" asked the other suspiciously. "What am I to do?"

"Introduce me to society, " said Poltavo sweetly--"most particularly do Idesire to meet that merchant prince of whose operations I read in thenewspapers, Mr. How-do-you-call-him?--Farrington. "

The veiled man sat in silence for a good minute, and then he rose, opened the cupboard and put in his hand. There was a click and thecupboard with its interior swung back, revealing another room which wasin point of fact an adjoining suite of offices, also rented by Mr. Brown. He stood silently in the opening, his chin on his breast, hishands behind him, then:

"You are very clever, Poltavo, " he said, and passed through and thecupboard swung back in its place. 

CHAPTER II

"Assassin!"

This was the cry which rang out in the stillness of the night, andaroused the interest of one inhabitant of Brakely Square who was awake. Mr. Gregory Farrington, a victim of insomnia, heard the sound, and putdown the book he was reading, with a frown. He rose from his easy chair, pulled his velvet dressing gown lightly round his rotund form andshuffled to the window. His blinds were lowered, but these were of theordinary type, and he stuck two fingers between two of the laths. 

There was a moist film on the window through which the street lampsshowed blurred and indistinct, and he rubbed the pane clear with thetips of his fingers (he described every action to T. B. Smithafterwards). 

Two men stood outside the house. They occupied the centre of thedeserted pavement, and they were talking excitedly. Through the closedwindow Mr. Farrington could hear the staccato rattle of their voices, and by the gesticulations, familiar to one who had lived for many yearsin a Latin country, he gathered that they were of that breed. 

He saw one raise his hand to strike the other and caught the flash of apistol-barrel excitedly flourished. 

"Humph!" said Mr. Farrington. 

He was alone in his beautiful house in Brakely Square. His butler, thecook, and one sewing maid and the chauffeur were attending the servants'ball which the Manley-Potters were giving. Louder grew the voices on thepavement. 

"Thief!" shrilled a voice in French, "Am I to be robbed of----" and therest was indistinguishable. 

There was a policeman on point duty at the other side of the square. Mr. Farrington's fingers rubbed the glass with greater energy, and hisanxious eyes looked left and right for the custodian of the law. 

He crept down the stairs, opened the metal flap of the letter-box andlistened. It was not difficult to hear all they said, though they haddropped their voices, for they stood at the foot of the steps. 

"What is the use?" said one in French. "There is a reward large enoughfor two--but for him--my faith! there is money to be made, sufficientfor twenty. It is unfortunate that we should meet on similar errands, but I swear to you I did not desire to betray you----" The voice sank. 

Mr. Farrington chewed the butt of his cigar in the darkness of the halland pieced together the jigsaw puzzle of this disjointed conversation. These men must be associates of Montague--Montague Fallock, who else?

Montague Fallock, the blackmailer for whom the police of Europe weresearching, and individually and separately they had arranged toblackmail him--or betray him. 

The fact that T. B. Smith also had a house in Brakely Square, and thatT. B. Smith was an Assistant Commissioner of the police, and mostanxious to meet Montague Fallock in the flesh, might supply reasonenough to the logical Mr. Farrington for this conversation outside hisrespectable door. 

"Yes, I tell you, " said the second man, angrily, "that I have arrangedto see M'sieur--you must trust me----"

"We go together, " said the other, definitely, "I trust no man, least ofall a confounded Neapolitan----"

Constable Habit had not heard the sound of quarrelling voices, as faras could be gathered from subsequent inquiry. His statement, now in thepossession of T. B. Smith, distinctly says, "I heard nothing unusual. "

But suddenly two shots rang out. 

"Clack--clack!" they went, the unmistakable sound of an automatic pistolor pistols, then a police whistle shrieked, and P. C. Habit broke into arun in the direction of the sound, blowing his own whistle as he ran. 

He arrived to find three men, two undoubtedly dead on the ground, andthe third, Mr. Farrington's unpicturesque figure, standing shivering inthe doorway of his house, a police whistle at his lips, and his greyvelvet dressing-gown flapping in a chill eastern wind. 

Ten minutes later T. B. Smith arrived on the scene from his house, tofind a crowd of respectable size, half the bedroom windows of BrakelySquare occupied by the morbid and the curious, and the police ambulancealready on the spot. 

"Dead, sir, " reported the constable. 

T. B. Looked at the men on the ground. They were obviously foreigners. One was well, almost richly dressed; the other wore the shabby eveningdress of a waiter, under the long ulster which covered him from neck tofoot. 

The men lay almost head to head. One flat on his face (he had been inthis position when the constable found him, and had been restored tothat position when the methodical P. C. Habit found that he was beyondhuman assistance) and the other huddled on his side. 

The police kept the crowd at a distance whilst the head of the secretpolice (T. B. Smith's special department merited that description) madea careful examination. He found a pistol on the ground, and anotherunder the figure of the huddled man, then as the police ambulance wasbacked to the pavement, he interviewed the shivering Mr. Farrington. 

"If you will come upstairs, " said that chilled millionaire, "I will tellyou all I know. "

T. B. Sniffed the hall as he entered, but said nothing. He had hisolfactory sense developed to an abnormal degree, but he was a tactfuland a silent man. 

He knew Mr. Farrington--who did not?--both as a new neighbour and as thepossessor of great wealth. 

"Your daughter----" he began. 

"My ward, " corrected Mr. Farrington, as he switched on all the lights ofhis sitting-room, "she is out--in fact she is staying the night with myfriend Lady Constance Dex--do you know her?"

T. B. Nodded. 

"I can only give you the most meagre information, " said Mr. Farrington. He was white and shaky, a natural state for a law-abiding man who hadwitnessed wilful murder. "I heard voices and went down to the door, thinking I would find a policeman--then I heard two shots almostsimultaneously, and opened the door and found the two men as they werefound by the policeman. "

"What were they talking about?"

Mr. Farrington hesitated. 

"I hope I am not going to be dragged into this case as a witness?" heasked, rather than asserted, but received no encouragement in the spokenhope from T. B. Smith. 

"They were discussing that notorious man, Montague Fallock, " said themillionaire; "one was threatening to betray him to the police. "

"Yes, " said T. B. It was one of those "yesses" which signifiedunderstanding and conviction. 

Then suddenly he asked:

"Who was the third man?"

Mr. Farrington's face went from white to red, and to white again. 

"The third man?" he stammered. 

"I mean the man who shot those two, " said T. B. , "because if there isone thing more obvious than another it is that they were both killed bya third person. You see, " he went on, "though they had pistols neitherhad been discharged--that was evident, because on each the safety catchwas raised. Also the lamp-post near which they stood was chipped by abullet which neither could have fired. I suggest, Mr. Farrington, thatthere was a third man present. Do you object to my searching yourhouse?"

A little smile played across the face of the other. 

"I haven't the slightest objection, " he said. "Where will you start?"

"In the basement, " said T. B. ; "that is to say, in your kitchen. "

The millionaire led the way down the stairs, and descended the backstairway which led to the domain of the absent cook. He turned on theelectric light as they entered. 

There was no sign of an intruder. 

"That is the cellar door, " indicated Mr. Farrington, "this the larder, and this leads to the area passage. It is locked. "

T. B. Tried the handle, and the door opened readily. 

"This at any rate is open, " he said, and entered the dark passageway. 

"A mistake on the part of the butler, " said the puzzled Mr. Farrington. "I have given the strictest orders that all these doors should befastened. You will find the area door bolted and chained. "

T. B. Threw the rays of his electric torch over the door. 

"It doesn't seem to be, " he remarked; "in fact, the door is ajar. "

Farrington gasped. 

"Ajar?" he repeated. T. B. Stepped out into the well of the tinycourtyard. It was approached from the street by a flight of stonestairs. 

T. B. Threw the circle of his lamp over the flagged yard. He sawsomething glittering and stooped to pick it up. The object was a tinygold-capped bottle such as forms part of the paraphernalia in a woman'shandbag. 

He lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. 

"That is it, " he said. 

"What?" asked Mr. Farrington, suspiciously. 

"The scent I detected in your hall, " replied T. B. "A peculiar scent, isit not?" He raised the bottle to his nose again. "Not your ward's by anychance?"

Farrington shook his head vigorously. 

"Doris has never been in this area in her life, " he said; "besides, shedislikes perfumes. "

T. B. Slipped the bottle in his pocket. 

Further examination discovered no further clue as to the third person, and T. B. Followed his host back to the study. 

"What do you make of it?" asked Mr. Farrington. 

T. B. Did not answer immediately. He walked to the window and lookedout. The little crowd which had been attracted by the shots and arrivalof the police ambulance had melted away. The mist which had threatenedall the evening had rolled into the square and the street lamps showedyellow through the dingy haze. 

"I think, " he said, "that I have at last got on the track of MontagueFallock. "

Mr. Farrington looked at him with open mouth. 

"You don't mean that?" he asked incredulously. 

T. B. Inclined his head. 

"The open door below--the visitor?" jerked the stout man, "you don'tthink Montague Fallock was in the house to-night?"

T. B. Nodded again, and there was a moment's silence. 

"He has been blackmailing me, " said Mr. Farrington, thoughtfully, "but Idon't think----"

The detective turned up his coat collar preparatory to leaving. 

"I have a rather unpleasant job, " he said. "I shall have to searchthose unfortunate men. "

Mr. Farrington shivered. "Beastly, " he said, huskily. 

T. B. Glanced round the beautiful apartment with its silver fittings, its soft lights and costly panellings. A rich, warm fire burnt in anoxidized steel grate. The floor was a patchwork of Persian rugs, and afew pictures which adorned the walls must have been worth a fortune. 

On the desk there was a big photograph in a plain silver frame--thephotograph of a handsome woman in the prime of life. 

"Pardon me, " said T. B. , and crossed to the picture, "this is----"

"Lady Constance Dex, " said the other, shortly--"a great friend of mineand my ward's. "

"Is she in town?"

Mr. Farrington shook his head. 

"She is at Great Bradley, " he said; "her brother is the rector there. "

"Great Bradley?"

T. B. 's frown showed an effort to recollect something. 

"Isn't that the locality which contains the Secret House?"

"I've heard something about the place, " said Mr. Farrington with alittle smile. 

"C. D. , " said the detective, making for the door. 

"What?"

"Lady Constance Dex's initials, I mean, " said T. B. 

"Yes--why?"

"Those are the initials on the gold scent bottle, that is all, " said thedetective. "Good night. "

He left Mr. Farrington biting his finger nails--a habit he fell intowhen he was seriously perturbed. 

CHAPTER III

T. B. Smith sat alone in his office in Scotland Yard. Outside, theEmbankment, the river, even the bulk of the Houses of Parliament wereblotted out by the dense fog. For two days London had lain under thepall, and if the weather experts might be relied upon, yet another twodays of fog was to be expected. 

The cheery room, with its polished oak panelling and the chaste eleganceof its electroliers, offered every inducement to a lover of comfort tolinger. The fire glowed bright and red in the tiled fireplace, a silverclock on the mantelpiece ticked musically, and at his hand was awhite-covered tray with a tiny silver teapot, and the paraphernalianecessary for preparing his meal--that strange tea-supper which was oneof T. B. Smith's eccentricities. 

He glanced at the clock; the hands pointed to twenty-five minutes pastone. 

He pressed a little button let into the side of the desk, and a fewseconds later there was a gentle tap at the door, and a helmetlessconstable appeared. 

"Go to the record room and get me"--he consulted a slip of paper on thedesk--"Number G 7941. "

The man withdrew noiselessly, and T. B. Smith poured out a cup of teafor himself. 

There was a thoughtful line on his broad forehead, a look ofunaccustomed worry on the handsome face, tanned with the suns ofSouthern France. He had come back from his holiday to a task whichrequired the genius of a superman. He had to establish the identity ofthe greatest swindler of modern times, Montague Fallock. And now anotherreason existed for his search. To Montague Fallock, or his agent, mustbe ascribed the death of two men found in Brakely Square the nightbefore. 

No man had seen Montague; there was no photograph to assist the army ofdetectives who were seeking him. His agents had been arrested andinterrogated, but they were but the agents of agents. The man himselfwas invisible. He stood behind a steel network of banks and lawyers andanonymities, unreachable. 

The constable returned, bearing under his arm a little black leatherenvelope, and, depositing it on the desk of the Assistant Commissioner, withdrew. 

T. B. Opened the envelope and removed three neat packages tied with redtape. He unfastened one of these and laid three cards before him. Theywere three photographic enlargements of a finger print. It did not needthe eye of an expert to see they were of the same finger, though it wasobvious that they had been made under different circumstances. 

T. B. Compared them with a smaller photograph he had taken from hispocket. Yes, there was no doubt about it. The four pictures, secured bya delicate process from the almost invisible print on the latest letterof the blackmailer, proved beyond any doubt the identity of Lady Dex'scorrespondent. 

He rang the bell again and the constable appeared in the doorway. 

"Is Mr. Ela in his office?"

"Yes, sir. He's been taking information about that Dock case. "

"Dock case? Oh yes, I remember; two men were caught rifling the Customsstore; they shot a dock constable and got away. "

"They both got away, sir, " said the man, "but one was shot by theconstable's mate; they found his blood on the pavement outside wheretheir motor-car was waiting. "

T. B. Nodded. 

"Ask Mr. Ela to come in when he is through, " he said. 

Mr. Ela was evidently "through, " for almost immediately after themessage had gone, the long, melancholy face of the superintendentappeared in the doorway. 

"Come in, Ela, " smiled T. B. ; "tell me all your troubles. "

"My main trouble, " replied Ela, as he sank wearily into the paddedchair, "is to induce eyewitnesses to agree as to details; there isabsolutely no clue as to the identity of the robbers, and nearlymurderers. The number of the car was a spurious one, and was not tracedbeyond Limehouse. I am up against a blank wall. The only fact I have togo upon is the very certain fact that one of the robbers was eitherwounded or killed and carried to the car by his friend, and that hisbody will have to turn up somewhere or other--then we may have somethingto go on. "

"If it should prove to be that of my friend Montague Fallock, " said T. B. Humorously, "I shall be greatly relieved. What were your thievesafter--bullion?"

"Hardly! No, they seem to be fairly prosaic pilferers. They engaged ingoing through a few trunks--part of the personal baggage of the_Mandavia_ which arrived from Coast ports on the day previous. Thebaggage was just heavy truck; the sort of thing that a passenger leavesin the docks for a day or two till he has arranged for their carriage. The trunks disturbed, included one of the First Secretary to a HighCommissioner in Congoland, a dress basket of a Mrs. Somebody-or-otherwhose name I forget--she is the wife of a Commissioner--and a small boxbelonging to Dr. Goldworthy, who has just come back from the Congo wherehe has been investigating sleeping sickness. "

"Doesn't sound thrilling, " said T. B. Thoughtfully; "but why do swaggercriminals come in their motor-cars with their pistols and masks--theywere masked if I remember the printed account aright?" Ela nodded. "Whydo they come on so prosaic an errand?"

"Tell me, " said Ela, laconically, then, "What is your trouble?"

"Montague, " said the other, with a grim smile, "Montague Fallock, Esquire. He has been demanding a modest ten thousand pounds from LadyConstance Dex--Lady Constance being a sister of the Hon. And Rev. HarryDex, Vicar of Great Bradley. The usual threat--exposure of an old loveaffair. 

"Dex is a large, bland aristocrat under the thumb of his sister; thelady, a masterful woman, still beautiful; the indiscretion partly atonedby the death of the man. He died in Africa. Those are the circumstancesthat count. The brother knows, but our friend Montague will have it thatthe world should know. He threatens to murder, if necessary, should shebetray his demands to the police. This is not the first time he hasuttered this threat. Farrington, the millionaire, was the last man, andcuriously, a friend of Lady Dex. "

"It's weird--the whole business, " mused Ela. "The two men you found inthe square didn't help you?"

T. B. , pacing the apartment with his hand in his pocket, shook his head. 

"Ferreira de Coasta was one, and Henri Sans the other. Both menundoubtedly in the employ of Montague, at some time or other. The formerwas a well-educated man, who may have acted as intermediary. He was anarchitect who recently got into trouble in Paris over money matters. Sans was a courier agent, a more or less trusted messenger. There wasnothing on either body to lead me to Montague Fallock, save this. "

He pulled open the drawer of his desk and produced a small silverlocket. It was engraved in the ornate style of cheap jewellery and borea half-obliterated monogram. 

He pried open the leaf of the locket with his thumbnail. There wasnothing in its interior save a small white disc. 

"A little gummed label, " explained T. B. , "but the inscription isinteresting. "

Ela held the locket to the light, and read:

 "Mor: Cot. God sav the Keng. "

"Immensely patriotic, but unintelligible and illiterate, " said T. B. , slipping the medallion into his pocket, and locking away the dossier inone of the drawers of his desk. 

Ela yawned. 

"I'm sorry--I'm rather sleepy. By the way, isn't Great Bradley, aboutwhich you were speaking, the home of a romance?"

T. B. Nodded with a twinkle in his eye. 

"It is the town which shelters the Secret House, " he said, as he rose, "but the eccentricities of lovesick Americans, who build houses equallyeccentric, are not matters for police investigation. You can share mycar on a fog-breaking expedition as far as Chelsea, " he added, as heslipped into his overcoat and pulled on his gloves; "we may have theluck to run over Montague. "

"You are in the mood for miracles, " said Ela, as they were descendingthe stairs. 

"I am in the mood for bed, " replied T. B. Truthfully. Outside the fogwas so thick that the two men hesitated. T. B. 's chauffeur was a wiseand patient constable, but felt in his wisdom that patience would bewasted on an attempt to reach Chelsea. 

"It's thick all along the road, sir, " he said. "I've just 'phonedthrough to Westminster Police Station, and they say it is madness toattempt to take a car through the fog. "

T. B. Nodded. 

"I'll sleep here, " he said. "You'd better bed down somewhere, David, andyou, Ela?"

"I'll take a little walk in the park, " said the sarcastic Mr. Ela. 

T. B. Went back to his room, Ela following. 

He switched on the light, but stood still in the doorway. In the tenminutes' absence some one had been there. Two drawers of the desk hadbeen forced; the floor was littered with papers flung there hurriedly bythe searcher. 

T. B. Stepped swiftly to the desk--the envelope had gone. 

A window was open and the fog was swirling into the room. 

"There's blood here, " said Mr. Ela. He pointed to the dappled blottingpad. 

"Cut his hand on the glass, " said T. B. And jerked his head to thebroken pane in the window. He peered out through the open casement. Ahook ladder, such as American firemen use, was hanging to the parapet. So thick was the fog that it was impossible to see how long the ladderwas, but the two men pulled it up with scarcely an effort. It was madeof a stout light wood, with short steel brackets affixed at intervals. 

"Blood on this too, " said Ela, then, to the constable who had come tohis ring, he jerked his orders rapidly: "Inspector on duty to surroundthe office with all the reserve--'phone Cannon Row all men available tocircle Scotland Yard, and to take into custody a man with a cuthand--'phone all stations to that effect. "

"There's little chance of getting our friend, " said T. B. He took up amagnifying glass and examined the stains on the pad. 

"Who was he?" asked Ela. 

T. B. Pointed to the stain. 

"Montague, " he said, briefly, "and he now knows the very thing I did notwish him to know. "

"And that is?"

T. B. Did not speak for a moment. He stood looking down at the evidencewhich the intruder had left behind. 

"He knows how much I know, " he said, grimly, "but he may also imagine Iknow more--there are going to be developments. "

CHAPTER IV

It was a bad night in London, not wild or turbulent, but swathed to theeyes like an Eastern woman in a soft grey garment of fog. It engulfedthe walled canyons of the city, through which the traffic had roared allday, plugged up the maze of dark side-streets, and blotted out the opensquares. Close to the ground it was thick, viscous, impenetrable, sothat one could not see a yard ahead, and walked ghostlike, adventuringinto a strange world. 

Occasionally it dispersed. In front of the Jollity Theatre numbers ofarc-lights wrought a wavering mist-hung yellow space, into which aconstant line of vehicles, like monstrous shiny beetles, emerged fromthe outer nowhere, disgorged their contents, and were eclipsed again. And pedestrians in gay processional streamed across the rudy glisteningpatch like figures on a slide. 

Conspicuous in the shifting throng was a sharp-faced boy, ostensiblyselling newspapers, but with a keen eye upon the arriving vehicles. Suddenly he darted to the curb, where an electric coupe had just drawnup. A man alighted heavily, and turned to assist a young woman. 

For an instant the lad's attention was deflected by the radiant vision. The girl, wrapped in a voluminous cloak of ivory colour, was tall andslim, with soft white throat and graceful neck; her eyes under shadowylashes were a little narrow, but blue as autumn mist, and sparkling nowwith amusement. 

"Watch your steps, auntie, " she warned laughingly, as a plump, elderly, little lady stepped stiffly from the coupe. "These London fogs aredangerous. "

The boy stood staring at her, his feet as helpless as if they had takenroot to the ground. Suddenly he remembered his mission. His nativeimpudence reasserted itself, and he started forward. 

"Paper, sir?"

He addressed the man. For a moment it seemed as though he were to berebuffed, then something in the boy's attitude changed his mind. 

As the man fumbled in an inner pocket for change, the lad took a swiftinventory. The face beneath the tall hat was a powerful oval, paste-coloured, with thin lips, and heavy lines from nostril to jaw. The eyes were close set and of a turbid grey. 

"It's him, " the boy assured himself, and opened his mouth to speak. 

The girl laughed amusedly at the spectacle of her companion's passionfor news in this grimy atmosphere, and turned to the young man inevening dress who had just dismissed his taxi and joined the group. 

It was the diversion the boy had prayed for. He took a quick step towardthe older man. 

"T. B. S. , " he said, in a soft but distinct undertone. 

The man's face blanched suddenly, and a coin which he held in his large, white-gloved palm slipped jingling to the pavement. 

The young messenger stooped and caught it dexterously. 

"T. B. S. , " he whispered again, insistently. 

"Here?" the answer came hoarsely. The man's lips trembled. 

"Watchin' this theatre--splits[1] by the million, " finished the boypromptly, and with satisfaction. Under cover of returning the coin, hethrust a slip of white paper into the other's hand. 

[Footnote 1: Splits: detectives. ]

Then he wheeled, ducked to the girl with a gay little swagger ofimpudence, threw a lightning glance of scrutiny at her young escort, andturning, was lost in the throng. 

The whole incident occupied less than a minute, and presently the fourwere seated in their box, and the gay strains from the overture of _TheStrand Girl_ came floating up to them. 

"I wish I were a little street gamin in London, " said the girlpensively, fingering the violets at her corsage. "Think of theadventures! Don't you, Frank?"

Frank Doughton looked across at her with smiling significant eyes, whichbrought a flush to her cheeks. 

"No, " he said softly, "I do not!"

The girl laughed at him and shrugged her round white shoulders. 

"For a young journalist, Frank, you are too obvious--too delightfullyverdant. You should study indirection, subtlety, finesse--study ourmutual friend Count Poltavo!"

She meant it mischievously, and produced the effect she desired. 

At the name the young man's brow darkened. 

"He isn't coming here to-night?" Doughton asked, in aggrieved tones. 

The girl nodded, her eyes dancing with laughter. 

"What can you see in that man, Doris?" he protested. "I'll bet youanything you like that the fellow's a rogue! A smooth, soft-smilingrascal! Lady Dinsmore, " he appealed to the elder woman, "do you likehim?"

"Oh, don't ask Aunt Patricia!" cried the girl. "She thinks him quite themost fascinating man in London. Don't deny it, auntie!"

"I shan't, " said the lady, calmly, "for it's true! Count Poltavo"--shepaused, to inspect through her lorgnette some new-comers in the oppositebox, where she got just a glimpse of a grey dress in the misty depths ofthe box, the whiteness of a gloved hand lying upon the box'sedge--"Count Poltavo is the only interesting man in London. He is agenius. " She shut her lorgnette with a snap. "It delights me to talkwith him. He smiles and murmurs gay witticisms and quotes Talleyrand andLucullus, and all the while, in the back of his head, quite out ofreach, his real opinions of you are being tabulated and ranged neatly ina row like bottles on a shelf. "

Doris nodded thoughtfully. 

"I'd like to take down some of those bottles, " she said. "Some dayperhaps I shall. "

"They're probably labelled poison, " remarked Frank viciously. He lookedat the girl with a growing sense of injury. Of late she had seemedabsolutely changed towards him; and from being his good friend, withestablished intimacies, she had turned before his very eyes into analien, almost an enemy, more beautiful than ever, to be true, butperverse, mocking, impish. She flouted him for his youth, his bluntness, his guileless transparency. But hardest of all to bear was the delicatederision with which she treated his awkward attempts to express hispassion for her, to speak of the fever which had taken possession ofhim, almost against his will. And now, he reflected bitterly, with thisvelvet fop of a count looming up as a possible rival, with his _savoirfaire_, and his absurd penchant for literature and art, what chance hadhe, a plain Briton, against such odds?--unless, as he profoundlybelieved, the chap was a crook. He determined to sound her guardian. 

"Mr. Farrington, " he asked aloud, "what do _you_ think--hallo!" Hesprang up suddenly and thrust out a supporting arm. 

Farrington had risen, and stood swaying slightly upon his feet. He wasfrightfully pale, and his countenance was contracted as if in pain. Helifted a wavering hand to his head. 

With a supreme effort he steadied himself. 

"Doris, " he asked quickly, "I meant to ask you--where did you leave LadyConstance?"

The girl looked up in surprise. 

"I haven't seen her to-day--she went down to Great Bradley lastnight--didn't she, auntie?"

The elder woman nodded. 

"Mannish, and not a little discourteous _I_ think, " she said, "leavingher guests and motoring through the fog to the country. I sometimesthink Constance Dex is a trifle mad. "

"I wish I could share your views, " said Farrington, grimly. 

He turned abruptly to Doughton. 

"Look after Doris, " he said. "I have remembered--an engagement. "

He beckoned Frank, with a scarcely perceptible gesture, and the two menpassed out of the box. 

"Have you discovered anything?" he asked, when they were outside. 

"About what?" asked Frank, innocently. 

A grim smile broke the tense lines of Mr. Farrington's face. 

"Really!" he said, drily, "for a young man engaged in most importantinvestigations you are casual. "

"Oh!--the Tollington business, " said the other. "No, Mr. Farrington, Ihave found nothing. I don't think it is my game really--investigatingand discovering people. I'm a pretty good short story writer but apretty rotten detective. Of course, it is awfully kind of you to havegiven me the job----"

"Don't talk nonsense, " snapped the older man. "It isn't kindness--it'sself-interest. Somewhere in this country is the heir to the Tollingtonmillions. I am one of the trustees to that estate and I am naturallykeen on discovering the man who will relieve me of my responsibility. There is a hundred pounds awaiting the individual who unearths thisheir. "

He glanced at his watch. 

"There is one other thing I want to speak to you about--and that isDoris. "

They stood in the little corridor which ran at the back of the boxes, and Frank wondered why he had chosen this moment to discuss such urgentand intimate matters. He was grateful enough to the millionaire for thecommission he had given him--though with the information to go upon, looking for the missing Tollington heir was analogous to seeking theproverbial needle--but grateful for the opportunity which even thisassociation gave him for meeting Doris Gray, he was quite content tocontinue the search indefinitely. 

"You know my views, " the other went on--he glanced at his watch again. "I want Doris to marry you. She is a dear girl, the only human being inthe world for whom I have any affection. " His voice trembled, and nonecould doubt his sincerity. "Somehow I am getting nervous aboutthings--that shooting which I witnessed the other night has made mejumpy--go in and win. "

He offered a cold hand to the other, and Frank took it, then, with alittle jerk of his head, and a muttered "shan't be gone long, " he passedinto the vestibule, and out into the foggy street. A shrill whistlebrought a taxi from the gloom. 

"The Savoy, " said Farrington. He sprang in, and the cab started with ajerk. 

A minute later he thrust his head from the window. 

"You may drop me here, " he called. He descended and paid his fare. "I'llwalk the rest of the way, " he remarked casually. 

"Bit thickish on foot to-night, sir, " offered the driver respectfully. "Better let me set you down at the hotel. " But his fare was already lostin the enveloping mist. 

Farrington wrapped his muffler closely about his chin, pulled down hishat to shadow his eyes, and hurried along like a man with a setdestination. 

Presently he halted and signalled to another cab, crawling along closeto the curb. 

CHAPTER V

The fog was still heavy, and the blurred street-lamps looked ghastly inthe yellow mist, when the little newsboy messenger, the first half ofhis mission performed, struck briskly riverward to complete hisbusiness. He disposed of his papers by the simple expedient of throwingthem into a street refuse-bin. He jumped on a passing 'bus, and afterhalf an hour's cautious drive reached Southwark. He entered one of thenarrow streets leading from the Borough. Here the gas lamps were fewer, and the intersecting streets more narrow and gloomy. 

He plunged down a dark and crabbed way, glancing warily behind him nowand then to see if he was being followed. 

Here, between invisible walls, the fog hung thick and warm and sticky, crowding up close, with a kind of blowsy intimacy that whispered theatmosphere of the place. Occasionally, close to his ear, snatches ofloose song burst out, or a coarse face loomed head-high through thereek. 

But the boy was upon his native heath and scuttled along, whistlingsoftly between closed teeth, as, with a dexterity born of long practice, he skirted slush and garbage sinks, slipped around the blacker gulfsthat denoted unguarded basement holes, and eluded the hideous shadowsthat lurched by in the gloom. 

Hugging the wall, he presently became aware of footsteps behind him. Herounded a corner, and, turning swiftly, collided with something whichgrabbed him with great hands. Without hesitation, the lad leaned downand set his teeth deep into the hairy arm. 

The man let go with a hoarse bellow of rage and the boy, darting acrossthe alley, could hear him stumbling after him in blind search of thenarrow way. 

As he sped along a door suddenly opened in the blank wall beside him, and a stream of ruddy light gushed out, catching him square within itsradiance, mud-spattered, starry-eyed, vivid. 

A man stood framed in the doorway. 

"Come in, " he commanded, briefly. 

The boy obeyed. Surreptitiously he wiped the wet and mud from his faceand tried to reduce his wild breathing. 

The room which he entered was meagre and stale-smelling, with bare floorand stained and sagging wall-paper; unfurnished save for a battered dealtable and some chairs. 

He sank into one of them and stared with frank curiosity past hisemployer, who had often entrusted him with messages requiring secrecy, past his employer's companion, to the third figure in the room--aprostrate figure which lay quite still under the heavy folds of a longdark ulster with its face turned to the wall. 

"Well?" It was a singularly agreeable voice which aroused him, soft andwell-bred, but with a faint foreign accent. The speaker was hisemployer, a slender dark man, with a finely carved face, immobile as theSphinx. He had laid aside his Inverness and top hat, and showed himselfin evening dress with a large--perhaps a thought too large--buttonholeof Parma violets, which sent forth a faint fragrance. 

Of the personality of the man the messenger knew nothing more than thathe was foreign, eccentric in a quiet way, lived in a grand house nearPortland Place, and rewarded him handsomely for his occasional services. That the grand house was an hotel at which Poltavo had run up anuncomfortable bill he could not know. 

The boy related his adventures of the evening, not omitting to mentionhis late pursuer. 

The man listened quietly, brooding, his elbows upon the table, hisinscrutable face propped in the crotch of his hand. A ruby, set quaintlyin a cobra's head, gleamed from a ring upon his little finger. Presentlyhe roused. 

"That's all to-night, my boy, " he said, gravely. 

He drew out his purse, extracted a sovereign, and laid it in themessenger's hand. 

"And this, " he said, softly, holding up a second gold piece, "isfor--discretion! You comprehend?"

The boy shot a swift glance, not unmixed with terror, at the still, recumbent figure in the corner, mumbled an assent and withdrew. Out inthe dampness of the fog, he took a long, deep breath. 

As the door closed behind him, the door of an inner room opened andFarrington came out. He had preceded the messenger by five minutes. Theyoung exquisite leaned back in his chair, and smiled into the sombreeyes of his companion. 

"At last!" he breathed, softly. "The thing moves. The wheels arebeginning to revolve!"

The other nodded gloomily, his glance straying off toward the corner ofthe room. 

"They've got to revolve a mighty lot more before the night's done!" hereplied, with heavy significance. 

"I needn't tell you, " he continued, "that we must move in this venturewith extreme caution. A single misstep at the outset, the slightestbreath of suspicion, and pff! the entire superstructure falls to theground. "

"That is doubtless true, Mr. Farrington, " murmured his companion, pleasantly. He leaned down to inhale the fragrant scent of the violets. "But you forget one little thing. This grand superstructure you speakof--so mysteriously"--he hid a slight smile--"I don't know it--all. Youhave seen fit, in your extreme caution, to withhold complete informationfrom me. "

He paused, and regarded his companion with a level, steady gaze. Afaint, ironical smile played about the corners of his mouth; he spokewith a slightly foreign accent, which was at once pleasant and piquant. 

"Is it not so, my friend?" he asked, softly. "I am--how you say--leftout in the cold--I do not even know your immediate plans. "

His countenance was serene and unruffled, and it was only by hisslightly quickened breathing that the conversation held any unusualsignificance. 

The other stirred uneasily in his chair. 

"There are certain financial matters, " he said, with a light air. 

"There are others immediately pressing, " interrupted his companion. "Iobserve, for example, that your right hand is covered by a glove whichis much larger than that on your left. I imagine that beneath the whitekid there is a thin silk bandage. Really, for a millionaire, Mr. Farrington, you are singularly--shall I say--'furtive'?"

"Hush!" whispered Farrington, hoarsely. He glanced about half-fearfully. 

The younger man ignored the outburst. He laid a persuasive hand upon hiscompanion's arm. 

"My friend, " he said gravely, "let me give you a bit of good advice. Believe me, I speak disinterestedly. Take me into your counsel. I thinkyou need assistance--and I have already given you a taste of my qualityin that respect. This afternoon when I called upon you in your home inBrakely Square, suggesting that a man of my standing might be of immensevalue to you, you were at first innocently dull, then suspicious. AfterI told you of my adventures in the office of a certain Society journalyou were angry. Frankly, " the young man shrugged his shoulders, "I am apenniless adventurer--can I be more frank than that? I call myselfCount Poltavo--yet the good God knows that my family can give no greaterjustification to the claim of nobility than the indiscretions of lovelyLydia Poltavo, my grandmother, can offer. For the matter of that I mightas well be prince on the balance of probability. I am living by my wits:I have cheated at cards, I have hardly stopped short of murder--I needthe patronage of a strong wealthy man, and you fulfill all myrequirements. "

He bowed slightly to the other, and went on:

"You challenged me to prove my worth--I accepted that challenge. To-night, as you entered the theatre, you were told by a messenger thatT. B. Smith--a most admirable man--was watching you--that he hadpractically surrounded the Jollity with detectives, and, moreover, Ichose as my messenger a small youth who has served you more than once. Thus at one stroke I proved that not only did I know what stepsauthority was taking to your undoing, but also that I had surprised thissplendid rendezvous--and your secret. "

He waived his hand around the sordid room, and his eyes rested awhileupon the silent, ulster-covered figure on the bed; his action was notwithout intent. 

"You are an interesting man, " said Farrington, gruffly. He looked at hiswatch. "Join my party at the Jollity, " he said; "we can talk mattersover. Incidentally, we may challenge Mr. Smith. " He smiled, but grewgrave again. "I have lost a good friend there"--he looked at the form onthe bed; "there is no reason why you should not take his place. Is ittrue--what you said to-day--that you know something of appliedmechanics?"

"I have a diploma issued by the College of Padua, " said the otherpromptly. 

CHAPTER VI

At precisely ten o'clock, as the curtain came reefing slowly down uponthe first act of _The Strand Girl_, Lady Dinsmore turned withoutstretched hand to greet the first of the two men who had just enteredthe box. 

"My dear Count, " she exclaimed, "I am disappointed in you! Here I havebeen paying you really quite tremendous compliments to these youngpeople. I presume you are on Gregory's 'business'?"

"I am desolated!"

Count Poltavo had a way of looking at one gravely, with an air ofconcentrated attention, as if he were seeing through the words, into thevery soul of the speaker. He was, indeed, a wonderful listener, and thisquality, added to a certain buoyancy of temperament, accounted perhapsfor his popularity in such society as he had been able to penetrate. 

"Before I ask you to name the crime, Lady Dinsmore, " he said, "permitme to offer my humblest apologies for my lateness. "

Lady Dinsmore shook her head at him and glanced at Farrington, but thatdour man had drawn a chair to the edge of the box, and was staringmoodily down into the great auditorium. 

"You are an incorrigible!" she declared, "but sit down and make yourexcuses at your leisure. You know my niece, and I think you have met Mr. Doughton. He is one of our future leaders of thought!"

The Count bowed, and sank into a chair beside his hostess. 

Frank, after a frigidly polite acknowledgement, resumed his conversationwith Doris, and Lady Dinsmore turned to her companion. 

"Now for the explanation, " she exclaimed, briskly. "I shall not let youoff! Unpunctuality _is_ a crime, and your punishment shall be to confessits cause. "

Count Poltavo bent toward her with bright, smiling eyes. 

"A very stupid and foolish business engagement, " he replied, "whichrequired my personal attendance, and unfortunately that of Mr. Farrington. "

Lady Dinsmore threw up a protesting hand. 

"Business has no charms to soothe my savage breast! Mr. Farrington, "she lowered her voice confidentially, "can talk of nothing else. When hewas staying with us he was for ever telegraphing, cabling to America, ordecoding messages. There was no peace in the house, by day or by night. Finally I made a stand. 'Gregory, ' I said, 'you shall not pervert myservants with your odious tips, and turn my home into a publicstock-exchange. Take your bulls and bears over to the Savoy and playwith them there, and leave Doris to me. ' And he did!" she concludedtriumphantly. 

Count Poltavo looked about, as if noting for the first time Farrington'spreoccupation. "Is he quite well?" he inquired, in an undertone. 

Lady Dinsmore shrugged her shoulders. 

"Frankly, I think he had a slight indisposition, and magnified it inorder to escape small talk. He hates music. Doris has been quitedistrait ever since. The child adores her uncle--you know, of course, that she is his niece--the daughter of my sister. Gregory was herfather's brother--we are almost related. "

Her companion glanced across to the subject of their remarks. The girlsat in the front of the box, slim and elegant, her hands clasped looselyin her lap. She was watching the brilliant scene with a certain air ofdetachment, as if thinking of other things. Her usual lightness and gaybanter seemed for the moment to have deserted her, leaving a softbrooding wistfulness that was strangely appealing. 

The Count looked at her. 

"She is very beautiful, " he murmured under his breath. 

Something in his voice caught Lady Dinsmore's attention. She eyed himkeenly. 

The Count met her look frankly. 

"Is--is she engaged to her young friend?" he asked quietly. "Believe me, it is not vulgar curiosity which prompts the question. I--Iam--interested. " His voice was as composed as ever. 

Lady Dinsmore averted her gaze hurriedly and thought with lightningrapidity. 

"I have not her confidence, " she replied at length, in a low tone; "sheis a wise young woman and keeps her own counsel. " She appeared tohesitate. "She dislikes you, " she said. "I am sorry to wound you, but itis no secret. "

Count Poltavo nodded. "I know, " he said, simply. "Will you be my goodfriend and tell me why?"

Lady Dinsmore smiled. "I will do better than that, " she said kindly. "Iwill be your very good friend and give you a chance to ask her why. Frank, "--she bent forward and tapped the young man upon the shoulderwith her fan, --"will you come over here and tell me what your editormeans?"

The Count resigned his seat courteously, and took the vacant placebeside the girl. A silence fell between them, which presently the manbroke. 

"Miss Gray, " he began, seriously, "your aunt kindly gave me thisopportunity to ask you a question. Have I your permission also?"

The girl arched her eyebrows. Her lip curled ever so slightly. 

"A question to which you and my Aunt Patricia could find no answerbetween you! It must be subtle indeed! How can I hope to succeed?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "Because it concerns yourself. "

"Ah!" She drew herself up and regarded him with sparkling eyes. Onesmall foot began to tap the floor ominously. Then she broke into a vexedlittle laugh. 

"I am no match for you with the foils, Count. I admit it freely. Ishould have learned by this time that you never say what you mean, ormean what you say. "

"Forgive me, Miss Gray, if I say that you mistake me utterly. I meanalways what I say--most of all to you. But to say all that I mean--toput into speech all that one hopes or dreams--or dares, "--his voicedropped to a whisper--"to turn oneself inside out like an empty pocketto the gaze of the multitude--that is--imbecile. " He threw out his handswith an expressive gesture. 

"But to speak concretely--I have unhappily offended you, Miss Gray. Something I have done, or left undone--or my unfortunate personalitydoes not engage your interest. Is it not true?"

There was no mistaking his sincerity now. 

But the girl still held aloof, her blue eyes cool and watchful. For themoment, her face, in its young hardness, bore a curious resemblance toher uncle's. 

"Is that your question?" she demanded. 

The Count bowed silently. 

"Then I will tell you!" She spoke in a low voice surcharged withemotion. "I will give you candour for candour, and make an end of allthis make-believe. "

"That, " he murmured, "is what I most desire. "

Doris continued, heedless of the interruption. "It is true that Idislike you. I am glad to be able to tell you as much openly. And yet, perhaps, I should use another word. I dislike your secrecy--somethingdark and hidden within you--and I fear your influence over my uncle. Youhave known me less than a fortnight--Mr. Farrington, less than aweek--yet you have made what I can only conceive to be impertinentproposals of marriage to me. To-day you were for three hours with myuncle. I can only guess what your business has been. "

"You would probably guess wrong, " he said coolly. 

Farrington, at the other end of the box, shot a swift, suspicious glanceacross. Poltavo turned to the girl again. 

"I want only to be a friend of yours in the day of your need, " he said, in a low voice; "believe me, that day is not far distant. "

"That is true?" She leaned toward him, a little troubled. 

He bowed his head in assent. 

"If I could believe you, " she faltered. "I need a friend! Oh, if youcould know how I have been torn by doubts--beset by fears--oppressions. "Her voice quivered. "There is something wrong somewhere--I can't tellyou everything--if you would help me--wait. May I test you with aquestion?"

"A thousand if you like. "

"And you will answer--truthfully?" In her eagerness she was like achild. 

He smiled. "If I answer at all, be sure it will be truthful. "

"Tell me then, is Dr. Fall your friend?"

"He is my dearest enemy, " he returned, promptly. 

He had only the dimmest notion as to the identity of Dr. Fall, but itseemed that a lie was demanded--Poltavo could lie very easily. 

"Or Mr. Gorth?" she asked, and he shook his head. 

She drew a deep breath of relief. "And my uncle?" The question was awhisper. She appeared to hang upon his reply. 

The Count hesitated. "I do not know, " he admitted finally. "If he werenot influenced by Dr. Fall, I believe he would be my friend. " It was abow at a venture. He was following the bent of her inclination. 

For the first time that evening Doris looked at him with interest. 

"May I ask how your uncle came to know Gorth?"

He asked the question with the assurance of one who knew all that was tobe known save on this point. 

She hesitated awhile. 

"I don't quite know. The doctor we have always known. He lives in thecountry, and we only see him occasionally. He is----" She hesitated andthen went on rapidly: "I think he has rather dreadful work. He is incharge of a lunatic. "

Poltavo was interested. 

"Please go on, " he said. 

The girl smiled. "I am afraid you are an awful gossip, " she rallied, butbecame more serious. "I don't like him very much, but uncle says that ismy prejudice. He is one of those quiet, sure men who say very little andmake one feel rather foolish. Don't you know that feeling? It is asthough one were dancing the tango in front of the Sphinx. "

Poltavo showed his white teeth in a smile. 

"I have yet to have that experience, " he said. 

She nodded. 

"One of these days you will meet Dr. Fall and you will know how helplessone can feel in his presence. "

A remarkable prophecy which was recalled by Poltavo at a moment when hewas powerless to profit by the warning. 

"Mr. Gorth?"

Again she hesitated and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Well, " she said frankly, "he is just a common man. He looks almostlike a criminal to my mind. But apparently he has been a loyal servantto uncle for many years. "

"Tell me, " asked Poltavo, "on what terms is Dr. Fall with your uncle? Onterms of equality?"

She nodded. 

"Naturally, " she said with a look of surprise, "he is a gentleman, andis, I believe, fairly well off. "

"And Gorth?" asked Poltavo. 

He was interested for many reasons as one who had to take the place ofthat silent figure which lay in the fog-shrouded house. 

"I hardly know how to describe uncle's relations with Gorth, " sheanswered, a little puzzled. "There was a time when they were on terms ofperfect equality, but sometimes uncle would be very angry with himindeed. He was rather a horrid man really. Do you know a paper called_Gossip's Corner_?" she asked suddenly. 

Poltavo had heard of the journal and had found a certain malicious joyin reading its scandalous paragraphs. 

"Well, " she said in answer to his nod, "that was Mr. Gorth's idea ofliterature. Uncle would never have the paper in his house, but wheneveryou saw Mr. Gorth--he invariably waited for uncle in the kitchen--youwould be sure to find him chuckling over some of the horrid things whichthat paper published. Uncle used to get more angry about this thananything else, Mr. Gorth took a delight in all the unpleasant thingswhich this wretched little paper printed. I have heard it said that hehad something to do with its publication; but when I spoke to uncleabout it, he was rather cross with me for thinking such a thing. "

Poltavo was conscious that the eyes of Farrington were searching hisface narrowly, and out of the corner of his eye he noted the obviousdisapproval. He turned round carelessly. 

"An admirable sight--a London theatre crowd. "

"Very, " said the millionaire, drily. 

"Celebrities on every hand--Montague Fallock, for instance, is here. "

Farrington nodded. 

"And that wise-looking young man in the very end seat of the fourthrow--he is in the shadow, but you may see him. "

"T. B. Smith, " said Farrington, shortly. "I have seen him--I have seeneverybody but----"

"But----?"

"The occupant of the royal box. She keeps in the shadow all the time. She is not a detective, too, I suppose?" he asked, sarcastically. Helooked round. Frank Doughton, his niece and Lady Dinsmore were engrossedin conversation. 

"Poltavo, " he said, dropping his voice, "I want to know who that womanis in the opposite box--I have a reason. "

The orchestra was playing a soft intermezzo, and of a sudden the lightswent down in the house, hushed to silence as the curtain went slowly upupon the second act. 

There was a shifting of chairs to distribute the view, a tense moment ofsilence as the chorus came down a rocky defile and then--a white pencilof flame shot out from the royal box and a sharp crash of a pistolreport. 

"My God!" gasped Mr. Farrington, and staggered back. 

There was a loud babble of voices, a stentorian voice from the back ofthe stalls shouted, "House lights--quick!" The curtain fell as the housewas bathed in the sudden glare of lights. 

T. B. Saw the flash and leapt for the side aisle: two steps and he wasat the door which led to the royal box. It was empty. He passed quicklythrough the retiring room--empty also, but the private entrance givingon to the street was open and the fog was drifting through in greatwreaths. 

He stepped out into the street and blew a shrill whistle. Instantlyfrom the gloom came a plain clothes policeman--No, he had seen nobodypass. T. B. Went back to the theatre, raced round to the box oppositeand found it in confusion. 

"Where is Mr. Farrington?" he asked, quickly. 

He addressed his remark to Poltavo. 

"He is gone, " said the other, with a shrug. 

"He was here when the pistol was fired--at this box, my friend, as thebullet will testify. " He pointed to the mark on the enamelled panelbehind. "When the lights came he had gone--that is all. "

"He can't have gone, " said T. B. Shortly. "The theatre is surrounded. Ihave a warrant for his arrest. "

A cry from the girl stopped him. She was white and shaking. 

"Arrest!" she gasped, "on what charge?"

"On a charge of being concerned with one Gorth in burglary at theDocks--and with an attempted murder. "

"Gorth!" cried the girl, vehemently. "If any man is guilty, it isGorth--that evil man----"

"Speak softly of the dead, " said T. B. Gently. "Mr. Gorth, as I haveevery reason to believe, received wounds from which he died. Perhaps youcan enlighten me, Poltavo?"

But the Count could only spread deprecating hands. 

T. B. Went out into the corridor. There was an emergency exit to thestreet, but the door was closed. On the floor he found a glove, on thedoor itself the print of a bloody hand. 

But there was no sign of Farrington. 

CHAPTER VII

Two days later, at the stroke of ten, Frank Doughton sprang from histaxi in front of the office of the _Evening Times_. 

He stood for a moment, drawing in the fresh March air, sweet with thebreath of approaching spring. The fog of last night had vanished, leaving no trace. He caught the scent of Southern lilacs from anadjoining florist shop. 

He took the stairs three at a time. 

"Chief in yet?" he inquired of Jamieson, the news editor, who looked upin astonishment at his entrance, and then at the clock. 

"No, he's not down yet. You've broken your record. "

Frank nodded. 

"I've got to get away early. "

Tossing his hat upon his desk, he sat down and went methodically throughhis papers. He unfolded his _Times_, his mind intent upon the problemof the missing millionaire. He had not seen Doris since that night inthe box. The first paper under his hand was an early edition of a rivalevening journal. 

He glanced down at the headlines on the front page, then with ahorrified cry he sprang to his feet He was pale, and the hand whichgripped the paper shook. 

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. 

Jamieson swung round in his swivel chair. 

"What's up?" he inquired. 

"Farrington!" said Frank, huskily. "Farrington has committed suicide!"

"Yes, we've a column about it, " remarked Jamieson, complacently. "Apretty good story. " Then suddenly: "You knew him?" he asked. 

Frank Doughton lifted a face from which every vestige of colour had beendrained. "I--I was with him at the theatre on the night he disappeared, "he said. 

Jamieson whistled softly. 

Doughton rose hurriedly and reached for his hat. 

"I must go to them. Perhaps something can be done. Doris----" he brokeoff, unable to continue, and turned away sharply. 

Jamieson looked at him sympathetically. 

"Why don't you go round to Brakely Square?" he suggested. "There may benew developments--possibly a mistake. You note that the body has notbeen discovered. "

Out upon the pavement, Frank caught a passing taxi. 

He drove first to the city offices which were Farrington's headquarters. A short talk with the chief clerk was more than enlightening. A briefnote in the handwriting of the millionaire announced his intention, "tired of the world, " to depart therefrom. 

"But why?" asked the young man, in bewilderment. 

"Mr. Doughton, you don't seem to quite realize the importance of thistragedy, " said the chief clerk, quietly. "Mr. Farrington was a financialking--a multi-millionaire. Or at least, he was so considered up tillthis morning. We have examined his private books, and it now appearsthat he had speculated heavily during the last few weeks--he has losteverything, every penny of his own and his ward's fortune. Last night, in a fit of despair, he ended his life. Even his chief clerk had noknowledge of his transactions. "

Doughton looked at him in a kind of stupefaction. Was it of Farringtonthe man was talking such drivel? Farrington, who only the week beforehad told him in high gratification that within the last month he hadadded a cool million to his ward's marriage portion. Farrington, whohad, but two days ago, hinted mysteriously of a gigantic financial coupin the near future. And now all that fortune was lost, and the loser waslying at the bottom of the Thames!

"I think I must be going mad, " he muttered. "Mr. Farrington wasn't thekind to kill himself. "

"It is not as yet known to the public, but I think I may tell you, sinceyou were a friend of Farrington's, that Mr. T. B. Smith has been givencharge of the matter. He will probably wish to know your address. And inthe meantime, if you run across anything----"

"Certainly! I will let you know. Smith is an able man, of course. "Doughton gave the number of his chambers, and retreated hastily, gladthat the man had questioned him no further. 

He found his cab and flung himself wearily against the cushions. And nowfor Doris!

But Doris was not visible. Lady Dinsmore met him in the morning room, her usually serene countenance full of trouble. He took her hand insilence. 

"It is good of you, my dear Frank, to come so quickly. You have heardall?"

He nodded. 

"How is Doris?"

She sank into a chair and shook her head. 

"The child is taking it terribly hard! Quite tearless, but with a facelike frozen marble! She refused to believe the news, until she saw hisown writing. Then she fainted. "

Lady Dinsmore took out her lace handkerchief and wiped her eyes. 

"Doris, " she continued, in a moment, "has sent for Count Poltavo. "

Frank stared at her. 

"Why?" he demanded. 

Lady Dinsmore shook her head. 

"I cannot say, definitely, " she replied, with a sigh. "She is a silentgirl. But I fancy she feels that the Count knows something--she believesthat Gregory met with foul play. "

Frank leaned forward. 

"My own idea!" he said, quietly. 

Lady Dinsmore surveyed him with faint, good-humoured scorn. 

"You do not know Gregory, " she said, after a pause. 

"But--I do not follow you! If it was not murder it must have beensuicide. But why should Mr. Farrington kill himself?"

"I am sure that he had not the slightest idea of doing anything sounselfish, " returned Lady Dinsmore, composedly. 

"Then what----"

"Why are you so absolutely sure that he _is_ dead?" she asked softly. 

Frank stared at her in blank amazement. 

"What do you mean?" he gasped. Was she mad also?

"Simply that he is no more dead than you or I, " she retorted, coolly. "What evidence have we? A letter, in his own handwriting, telling usgravely that he has decided to die! Does it sound probable? It is a safepresumption that that is the farthest thing from his intentions. Forwhen did Gregory ever tell the truth concerning his movements? No, depend upon it, he is not dead. For purposes of his own, he ispretending to be. He has decided to exist--surreptitiously. "

"Why should he?" asked the bewildered young man. This was the maddesttheory of all. His head swam with a riot of conflicting impressions. Heseemed to have been hurled headlong into a frightful nightmare, and helonged to emerge again into the light of the prosaic, everyday world. 

The door at the farther end of the room opened. He looked up eagerly, half expecting to see Farrington himself, smiling upon the threshold. 

It was Doris. She stood there for a moment, uncertain, gazing at themrather strangely. In her white morning dress, slightly crumpled, and herdark hair arranged in smooth bandeaux, she was amazingly like a child. The somewhat cold spring sunlight which streamed through the windowshowed that the event of the night had already set its mark upon her. There were faint violet shadows beneath her eyes, and her face was pale. 

Frank came forward hastily, everything blotted from his mind but thesight of her white, grief-stricken face. He took both her hands in hiswarm clasp. 

The girl gave him a long, searching scrutiny, then her lips quivered, and with a smothered sob she flung herself into his arms and hid herface on his shoulder. 

Frank held her tenderly. "Don't, " he whispered unsteadily--"don't cry, dear. "

In her sorrow, she was inexpressibly sweet and precious to him. 

He bent down and smoothed with gentle fingers the soft, dusky hair. Thefragrance of it filled his nostrils. Its softness sent a deliciousecstasy thrilling from his finger-tips up his arm. All his life hewould remember this one moment. He gazed down at her tenderly, awonderful light in his young face. 

"Dear!" he whispered again. 

She lifted a pallid face to him. Her violet eyes were misty, and tinydrops of dew were still tangled in her lashes. 

"You--you are good to me, " she murmured. 

At his answering look, a faint colour swept into her cheeks. She gentlydisengaged herself and sat down. 

Lady Dinsmore came forward, and seating herself beside the girl upon thedivan, drew her close within the shelter of her arms. 

"Now, Frank, " she said, cheerily, indicating a chair opposite, "sitdown, and let us take counsel together. And first of all, "--she pressedthe girl's cold hand--"let me speak my strongest conviction. Gregory isnot dead. Something tells me that he is safe and well. "

Doris turned her eyes to the young man wistfully. "You have heardsomething--later?" she asked. 

He shook his head. "There has been no time for fresh developments yet. Scotland Yard is in charge of the affair, and T. B. Smith has been putupon the case. "

She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. 

"He said he was going to arrest him--how strange and ghastly it all is!"she whispered. "I--I cannot get it out of my head. The dark river--mypoor uncle--I can see him there--" She broke off. 

Lady Dinsmore looked helplessly across to the young man. 

It was at that moment that a servant brought a letter. 

Lady Dinsmore arched her eyebrows significantly. "Poltavo!" shemurmured. 

Doris darted forward and took the letter from the salver. She broke theseal and tore out the contents, and seemed to comprehend the message ata glance. A little cry of joy escaped her. Her face, which had beenpale, flushed a rosy hue. She bent to read it again, her lips parted. Her whole aspect breathed hope and assurance. She folded the note, slipped it into her bosom, and, without a word, walked from the room. 

Frank stared after her, white to the lips with rage and wounded love. 

Lady Dinsmore rose briskly to her feet. 

"Excuse me. Wait here!" she said, and rustled after her niece. 

Frank Doughton paced up and down the room distractedly, momentarilyexpecting her reappearance. Only a short half-hour ago, with Doris' headupon his breast, he had felt supremely happy; now he was plunged into anabyss of utter wretchedness. What were the contents of that brief notewhich had affected her so powerfully? Why should she secrete it withsuch care unless it conveyed a lover's assurance? His foot came intocontact with a chair, and he swore under his breath. 

The servant, who had entered unobserved, coughed deprecatingly. 

"Her ladyship sends her excuses, sir, " he said, "and says she will writeyou later. "

He ushered the young man to the outer door. 

Upon the top step Frank halted stiffly. He found himself face to facewith Poltavo. 

The Count greeted him gravely. 

"A sad business!" he murmured. "You have seen the ladies? How does MissGray bear it? She is well?"

Frank gazed at him darkly. 

"Your note recovered her!" he said, quietly. 

"Mine!" Surprise was in the Count's voice. "But I have not written. I amcome in person. "

Frank's face expressed scornful incredulity. He lifted his hat grimlyand descended the steps, and came into collision with a smiling, brown-faced man. 

"Mr. Smith!" he said, eagerly, "is there any news?"

T. B. Looked at him curiously. 

"The Thames police have picked up the body of a man bearing upon hisperson most of Mr. Farrington's private belongings. "

"Then it is true! It is suicide?"

T. B. Looked past him. 

"If a man cut his own head off before jumping into the river, it wassuicide, " he said carefully, "for the body is headless. As for myself, Ihave never witnessed such a phenomenon, and I am sceptical. "

A train drew into the arrival platform at Waterloo and a tall manalighted. Nearer at hand he did not appear to be so young as the firstimpression suggested. For there was a powdering of grey at each templeand certain definite lines about his mouth. 

His face was tanned brown, and it required no great powers ofobservation and deduction to appreciate the fact that he had recentlyreturned to England after residence in a hot climate. 

He stood on the edge of the curb outside the new entrance of thestation, hesitating whether he should take his chance of finding a cabor whether he should pick up one in the street, for the night was wetand cold and his train had been full. 

Whilst he stood a big taxi came noiselessly to the curb and the drivertouched his cap. 

"Thank you, " said the man with a smile. "You can drive me to theMetropole. "

He swung the door open and his foot was on the step when a hand touchedhim lightly, and he turned to meet the scrutiny of a pair of humorousgrey eyes. 

"I think you had better take another cab, Dr. Goldworthy, " said thestranger. 

"I am afraid----" began the doctor. 

The driver of the car, after a swift glance at the new-comer, would havedriven off, but an unmistakable detective-officer had jumped on to thestep by his side. 

"I am sorry, " said T. B. Smith, for he it was who had detained the youngdoctor, "but I will explain. Don't bother about the taxi driver; my menwill see after him. You have had a narrow escape of being kidnapped, " headded. 

He drove the puzzled doctor to Scotland Yard, and piece by piece heextracted the story of one George Doughton who had died in his arms, ofa certain box containing papers which the doctor had promised to deliverto Lady Constance, and of how that lady learnt the news of her sometimelover's death. 

"Thank you, " said T. B. When the other had finished. "I think Iunderstand. "

CHAPTER VIII

It was the morning after the recovery of Farrington's body that T. B. Smith sat in his big study overlooking Brakely Square. He had finishedhis frugal breakfast, the tray had been taken away, and he was busy athis desk when his man-servant announced Lady Constance Dex. T. B. Lookedat the card with an expressionless face. 

"Show the lady up, George, " he said, and rose to meet his visitor as shecame sweeping through the doorway. 

A very beautiful woman was his first impression. Whatever hardness therewas in the face, whatever suggestion there might be of those masterfulqualities about which he had heard, there could be no questioning therare clearness of the skin, the glories of those hazel eyes, or theexquisite modelling of the face. He judged her to be on the right sideof thirty, and was not far out, for Lady Constance Dex at that time wastwenty-seven. 

She was well, even richly, dressed, but she did not at first give thisimpression. T. B. Imagined that she might be an authority on dress, andin this he took an accurate view, for though not exactly a leader offashion, Lady Constance had perfect taste in such matters. 

He pulled forward a chair to the side of his desk. 

"Won't you sit down?" he said. 

She gave a brief smile as she seated herself. 

"I am afraid you will think I am a bore, disturbing you, Mr. Smith, especially at this hour of the morning, but I wanted to see you aboutthe extraordinary happenings of the past few days. I have just come upto town, " she went on; "in fact, I came up the moment I heard the news. "

"Mr. Farrington is, or was, a friend of yours?" said T. B. 

She nodded. 

"He and I have been good friends for many years, " she replied, quietly;"he is an extraordinary man with extraordinary qualities. "

"By the way, " said T. B. , "his niece was staying with you a few nightsago, was she not?"

Lady Constance Dex inclined her head. 

"She came to a ball I was giving, and stayed the night, " she said. "Imotored back to Great Bradley after the dance, so that I have not seenher since I bade her good night. I am going along to see what I can dofor her, " she concluded. She had been speaking very deliberately andcalmly, but now it was with an effort that she controlled her voice. 

"I understand, Mr. Smith, " she said suddenly, "that you have a smallscent bottle which is my property; Mr. Farrington wrote to me about it. "

T. B. Nodded. 

"It was found in the area of Mr. Farrington's house, " he said, "on thenight that the two men were killed in Brakely Square. "

"What do you suggest?" she asked. 

"I suggest that you were at Mr. Farrington's house that night, " said T. B. Bluntly. "We are speaking now, Lady Constance, as frankly as it ispossible for man and woman to speak. I suggest that you were in thehouse at the time of the shooting, and that when you heard the shots youdoubled back into the house, through the kitchen, and out again by aback way. "

He saw her lips press tighter together, and went on carelessly:

"You see, I was not satisfied with the examination I made that night. Icame again in the early hours of the morning, when the fog had risen alittle, and there was evidence of your retirement plainly to be seen. The back of the house opens into Brakely Mews, and I find there are fourmotor-cars located in the various garages in that interestingthoroughfare, none of which correspond with the tire tracks which I wasable to pick up. My theory is that you heard the altercation before thehouse, that you came out to listen, not to make your escape, and thatwhen you had satisfied yourself you hurried back to the mews, got intothe car which was waiting for you, and drove off through the fog. "

"You are quite a real detective, " she drawled. "Can you tell me anythingmore?"

"Save that you drove yourself and that the car was a two-seater, with aself-starting arrangement, I can tell you nothing. " She laughed. 

"I am afraid you have been all the way to Great Bradley makinginquiries, " she mocked him. "Everybody there knows I drive a car, andeverybody who takes the trouble to find out will learn that it is such acar as you describe. "

"But I have not taken that trouble, " said T. B. With a smile. "I amcurious to know, Lady Constance, what you were doing in the house atthat time. I do not for one moment suspect that you shot these men;indeed, I have plenty of evidence that the shots were fired from someother place than the area. "

"Suppose I say, " she countered, "that I was giving a party that night, that I did not leave my house. "

"If you said that, " he interrupted, "you would be contradictingsomething you have already said; namely, that you did leave the house, ajourney in the middle of the night as far as I can gather, and evidentlyone which was of considerable moment. "

She looked past him out of the window, her face set, her brows knit in athoughtful frown. 

"I can tell you a lot of things that possibly you do not know, " shesaid, turning to him suddenly. "I can explain my return to Great Bradleyvery simply. There is a friend of mine, or rather a friend of myfriend, " she corrected herself, "who has recently returned from WestAfrica. I received news that he had gone to Great Bradley to carry amessage from some one who was very dear to me. "

There was a little tremor in her voice, and, perfect actress as shemight be, thought T. B. , there was little doubt that here she wasspeaking the truth. 

"It was necessary for me that I should not miss this visitor, " said LadyConstance, quietly, "though I do not wish to make capital out of thathappening. "

"I must again interrupt you, " said T. B. Easily. "The person you arereferring to was Dr. Thomas Goldworthy, who has recently returned froman expedition organized by the London School of Tropical Medicine, inCongoland; but your story does not quite tally with the known fact thatDr. Goldworthy arrived in Great Bradley the night before your party, andyou interviewed him then. He brought with him a wooden box which he hadcollected at the Custom House store at the East India Docks. An attemptwas made by two burglars to obtain possession of that box and itscontents, a fact that interested me considerably, since a friend of mineis engaged upon that somewhat mysterious case of attempted burglary. Butthat is confusing the issue. These are the facts. " He tapped the tableslowly as he enumerated them. "Dr. Goldworthy brought this box to GreatBradley, telegraphed to you that he was coming, and you interviewed him. It was subsequent to the interview that you returned to London for yourparty. Really, Lady Constance, your memory is rather bad. "

She faced him suddenly resolute, defiant. 

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "You do not accuse me of themurder of your two friends; you cannot even accuse me of the attempt onMr. Farrington. You know so much of my history, " she went on, speakingrapidly, "that you may as well know more. Years ago, Mr. Smith, I wasengaged to a man, and we were passionately fond of one another. His namewas George Doughton. "

"The explorer, " nodded T. B. 

"He went abroad, " she continued, "suddenly and unexpectedly, breakingoff our engagement for no reason that I could ascertain, and all myletters to him, all my telegrams, and every effort I made to get intouch with him during the time he was in Africa were without avail. Forfour years I had no communication from him, no explanation of hisextraordinary behaviour, and then suddenly I received news of his death. At first it was thought he had died as a result of fever, but Dr. Goldworthy who came to see me convinced me that George Doughton waspoisoned by somebody who was interested in his death. "

Her voice trembled, but with an effort she recovered herself. 

"All these years I have not forgotten him, his face has never left mymind, he has been as precious to me as though he were by my side in theflesh. Love dies very hard in women of my age, Mr. Smith, " she said, "and love injured and outraged as mine has been developed all the tigerpassion which women can nurture. I have learnt for the first time whyGeorge Doughton went out to his death. He used to tell me, " she said, asshe rose from her chair, and paced the room slowly, "that when you areshooting wild beasts you should always shoot the female of the speciesfirst, because if she is left to the last she will avenge herslaughtered mate. There is a terrible time coming for somebody, " shesaid, speaking deliberately. 

"For whom?" asked T. B. 

She smiled. 

"I think you know too much already, Mr. Smith, " she said; "you must findout all the rest in your own inimitable way; so far as I am concerned, you must leave me to work out my plan of vengeance. That sounds horriblymelodramatic, but I am just as horribly in earnest, as you shall learn. They took George Doughton from me and they murdered him; the man who didthis was Montague Fallock, and I am perhaps the only person in the worldwho has met Montague Fallock in life and have known him to be what heis. "

She would say no more, and T. B. Was too cautious a man to force thepace at this particular moment. He saw her to the door, where herbeautiful limousine was awaiting her. 

"I hope to meet you again very soon, Lady Constance. "

"Without a warrant?" she smiled. 

"I do not think it will be with a warrant, " he said, quietly, "unlessit is for your friend Fallock. "

He stood in the hall and watched the car disappear swiftly round thecorner of the square. Scarcely was it out of sight than from the littlethoroughfare which leads from the mews at the back of the houses shot amotor-cyclist who followed in the same direction as the car had taken. 

T. B. Nodded approvingly; he was leaving nothing to chance. LadyConstance Dex would not be left day or night free from observation. 

"And she did not mention Farrington!" he said to himself, as he mountedthe stairs. "One would almost think he was alive. "

It was nine o'clock that evening when the little two-seated motor-carwhich Lady Constance drove so deftly came spinning along the broad roadwhich runs into Great Bradley, skirted the town by a side road andgained the great rambling rectory which stood apart from the little townin its own beautiful grounds. She sprang lightly out of the car. 

The noise of the wheels upon the gravel walk had brought a servant tothe door, and she brushed past the serving man without a word; ranupstairs to her own room and closed and locked the door behind herbefore she switched on the electric light. The electric light was anunusual possession in so small a town, but she owed its presence in thehouse to her friendship with that extraordinary man who was the occupantof the Secret House. 

Three miles away, out of sight of the rectory in a fold of the hill wasthis great gaunt building, erected, so popular gossip said, by one whohad been crossed in love and desired to live the life of a recluse, adesire which was respected by the superstitious town-folk of GreatBradley. The Secret House had been built in the hollow which was knownlocally as "Murderers' Valley, " a pretty little glen which many yearsbefore had been the scene of an outrageous crime. The house added to, rather than detracted from, the reputation of the glen; no man saw theoccupant of the Secret House; his secretary and his two Italian servantscame frequently to Great Bradley to make their purchases; now and againhis closed car would whizz through the streets; and Great Bradley, speculating as to the identity of its owner, could do no more than hopethat one of these fine days a wheel would come off that closed car andits occupant be forced to disclose himself. 

But in the main the town was content to allow the eccentric owner of theSecret House all the privacy he desired. He might do things which wereunheard of, as indeed he did, and Great Bradley, standing aloof, wascontent to thank God that it was not cast in the same bizarre mould asthis wealthy unknown, and took comfort from the reflection. 

For he did many curious things. He had a power house of his own; youcould see the chimney showing over Wadleigh Copse, with dynamos ofenormous power which generated all that was necessary for lighting andheating the big house. 

There were honest British working men in Great Bradley who spokebitterly of the owner's preference for foreign labour, and it was a factthat the men engaged in the electrical works were without exception offoreign origin. They had their quarters and lived peacefully apart, neither offering nor desiring the confidence of their fellow-townsmen. They were, in fact, frugal people of the Latin race who had no otherwish than to work hard and to save as much of their salaries as waspossible in order that at some future date they might return to theirbeloved Italy, and live in peace with the world; they were well paid fortheir discretion, a sufficient reason for its continuance. 

Lady Constance Dex had been fortunate in that she had secured one of thefew favours which the Secret House had shown to the town. An undergroundcable had been laid to her house, and she alone of all human beings inthe world was privileged to enter the home of this mysterious strangerwithout challenge. 

She busied herself for some time changing her dress and removing thesigns of her hasty journey from London. Her maid brought her dinner on atray, and when she had finished she went again into her boudoir, andopening the drawer of her bureau she took out a slender-barrelledrevolver. She looked at it for some time, carefully examined thechambers and into each dropped a nickel-tipped cartridge. She snappedback the hinged chamber and slipped the pistol into a pocket of herwoollen cloak. She locked the bureau again and went out through the doorand down the stairs. Her car was still waiting, but she turned to theservant who stood deferentially by the door. 

"Have the car put in the garage, " she said; "I am going to see Mrs. Jackson. "

"Very good, my lady, " said the man. 

CHAPTER IX

T. B. Smith came down to Great Bradley with only one object in view. Heknew that the solution to the mystery, not only of Farrington'sdisappearance, but possibly the identity of the mysterious Mr. Fallock, was to be found rather in this small town than in the metropolis. Scotland Yard was on its mettle. Within a space of seven days there hadbeen two murders, a mysterious shooting, and a suicide so full ofextraordinary features as to suggest foul play, without the police beingin the position to offer a curious and indignant public the slightestresemblance of a clue. This, following as it had upon a shooting affrayat the Docks, had brought Scotland Yard to a position of defence. 

"There are some rotten things being said about us, " said the ChiefCommissioner on the morning of T. B. 's departure. He threw a paperacross the table, and T. B. Picked it up with an enigmatic smile. Heread the flaring column in which the intelligence of the policedepartment was called into question, without a word, and handed thepaper back to his chief. 

"I think we might solve all these mysteries in one swoop, " he said. "Iam going down to-day to inspect the Secret House--that is where one endof the solution lies. "

The Chief Commissioner looked interested. 

"It is very curious that you should be talking about that, " he said. "Ihave had a report this morning from the chief constable of the county onthat extraordinary menage. "

"And what has he to say about it?"

Sir Gordon Billings shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is one of those vague reports which chief constables are in thehabit of furnishing, " he said, drily. "Apparently the owner is anAmerican, an invalid, and is eccentric. More than this--and this willsurprise you--he has been certified by competent medical authorities asbeing insane. "

"Insane?" T. B. Repeated in surprise. 

"Insane, " nodded the chief; "and he has all the privileges which theLunacy Act confers upon a man. That is rather a facer. "

T. B. Looked thoughtful. 

"I had a dim idea that I might possibly discover in the occupant onewho was, at any rate, a close relative to Fallock. "

"You are doomed to disappointment, " smiled the chief; "there is no doubtabout that. I have had all the papers up. The man was certified insaneby two eminent specialists, and is under the care of a doctor who liveson the premises, and who also acts as secretary to this Mr. Moole. Thesecret of the Secret House is pretty clear; it is a private lunaticasylum, --that, and nothing else. "

T. B. Thought for a while. 

"At any rate no harm can be done by interviewing this cloistered Mr. Moole, or by inspecting the house, " he said. 

He arrived in Great Bradley in the early part of the afternoon, anddrove straight away to the Secret House. The flyman put him down at somedistance from the big entrance gate, and he made a careful and cautiousreconnaissance of the vicinity. The house was a notable one. It made nopretence at architectural beauty, standing back from the road, and inthe very centre of a fairly uncultivated patch of ground. All thatafternoon he measured and observed the peculiarities of the approach, the lie of the ground, the entrances, and the exits, and had obtainedtoo a cautious and careful observation of the great electrical powerhouse, which stood in a clump of trees about a hundred yards from thehouse itself. 

The next morning he paid a more open visit. This time his fly put himdown at the gateway of the house, and he moved slowly up the gravelpathway to the big front entrance door. He glanced at the tip of thepower house chimney which showed over the trees, and shook his head insome doubt. He had furtively inspected the enormous plant which theeccentric owner of the Secret House had found it necessary to lay down. 

"Big enough to run an electric railway, " was his mental comment. He hadseen, too, the one-eyed engineer, a saturnine man with a disfiguringscar down one side of his face, and a trick of showing his teeth on oneside of his mouth when he smiled. 

T. B. Would have pursued his investigations further, but suddenly he hadfelt something click under his feet, as he stood peering in at thewindow, and instantly a gong had clanged, and a shutter droppednoiselessly behind the window, cutting off all further view. 

T. B. Had retired hastily and had cleared the gates just before theyswung to, obviously operated by somebody in the power house. 

His present visit was less furtive and it was in broad daylight, withtwo detectives ostentatiously posted at the gates, that he made hiscall--for he took no unnecessary risks. 

He walked up the four broad marble steps to the portico of the house, and wiped his feet upon a curious metal mat as he pressed the bell. Thedoor itself was half hidden by a hanging curtain, such as one may seescreening the halls of suburban houses, made up of brightly colouredbeads or lengths of bamboo. In this case it was made by suspendingthousands of steel beads upon fine wire strings from a rod above thedoor. It gave the impression that the entrance itself was of steel, butwhen in answer to his summons the door was opened, the _chick_ loopeditself up on either side in the manner of a stage curtain, and it seemedto work automatically on the opening of the door. 

There stood in the entrance a tall man, with a broad white face andexpressionless eyes. He was dressed soberly in black, and had therestrained and deferential attitude of the superior man-servant. 

"I am Mr. Smith, of Scotland Yard, " said T. B. Briefly, "and I wish tosee Mr. Moole. "

The man in black looked dubious. 

"Will you come in?" he asked, and T. B. Was shown into a largecomfortably furnished sitting-room. 

"I am afraid you can't see Mr. Moole, " said the man, as he closed thedoor behind him; "he is, as you probably know, a partial invalid, but ifthere is anything I can do----"

"You can take me to Mr. Moole, " said T. B. With a smile; "short ofthat--nothing. "

The man hesitated. 

"If you insist, " he began. 

The detective nodded. 

"I am his secretary and his doctor--Doctor Fall, " the other introducedhimself, "and it may mean trouble for me--perhaps you will tell me yourbusiness?"

"My business is with Mr. Moole. "

The doctor bowed. 

"Come this way, " he said, and he led the detective across the broadhall. He opened a plain door, and disclosed a small lift, standing asidefor the other to enter. 

"After you, " said T. B. Politely. 

Dr. Fall smiled and entered, and T. B. Smith followed. 

The lift shot swiftly upward and came to a rest at the third floor. 

It was not unlike an hotel, thought T. B. , in the general arrangement ofthe place. 

Two carpeted corridors ran left and right, and the wall before him waspunctured with doorways at regular intervals. His guide led him to theleft, to the end of the passage, and opened the big rosewood door whichfaced him. Inside was another door. This he opened, and entered a bigapartment and T. B. Followed. The room contained scarcely any furniture. The panelling on the walls was of polished myrtle; a square of deep bluecarpet of heavy pile was set exactly in the centre, and upon this stooda silver bedstead. But it was not the furnishing or the rich little gilttable by the bedside or the hanging electrolier which attracted T. B. 'sattention; rather his eyes fell instantly upon the man on the bed. 

A man with an odd yellow face, who, with his steady unwinking eyes mighthave been a figure of wax save for the regular rise and fall of hisbreast, and the spasmodic twitching of his lips. T. B. Judged him to besomewhere in the neighbourhood of seventy, and, if anything, older. Hisface was without expression; his eyes, which turned upon the intruder, were bright and beady. 

"This is Mr. Moole, " said the suave secretary. "I am afraid if you talkto him you will get little in the way of information. "

T. B. Stepped to the side of the bed and looked down. He nodded his headin greeting, but the other made no response. 

"How are you, Mr. Moole?" said T. B. Gently. "I have come down fromLondon to see you. "

There was still no response from the shrunken figure under thebedclothes. 

"What is your name?" asked T. B. After a while. 

For an instant a gleam of intelligence came to the eyes of the wreck. His mouth opened tremulously and a husky voice answered him. 

"Jim Moole, " it croaked, "poor old Jim Moole; ain't done nobody harm. "

Then his eyes turned fearfully to the man at T. B. 's side; the old lipscame tightly together and no further encouragement from T. B. Could makehim speak again. 

A little later T. B. Was ushered out of the room. 

"You agree with me, " said the doctor smoothly, "Mr. Moole is not in aposition to carry on a very long conversation. "

T. B. Nodded. 

"I quite agree, " he said, pleasantly. "An American millionaire--Mr. Moole--is he not?"

Dr. Fall inclined his head. His black eyes never left T. B. 's face. 

"An American millionaire, " he repeated. 

"He does not talk like an American, " said T. B. ; "even making allowancesthat one must for his mental condition, there is no inducement toaccept the phenomenon. "

"Which phenomenon?" asked the other, quickly. 

"That which causes an American millionaire, a man probably of somerefinement and education, at any rate of some lingual characteristics, to talk like a Somerset farm labourer. "

"What do you mean?" asked the other harshly. 

"Just what I say, " said T. B. Smith; "he has the burr of a man who hasbeen brought up in Somerset. He is obviously one who has had very littleeducation. My impression of him does not coincide with yourdescription. "

"I think, Mr. Smith, " said the other, quietly, "that you have had verylittle acquaintance with people who are mentally deficient, otherwiseyou would know that those unfortunate fellow-creatures of ours who areso afflicted are very frequently as unrecognizable from their speech asfrom their actions. "

He led the way to the lift door, but T. B. Declined its service. 

"I would rather walk down, " he said. 

He wanted to be better acquainted with this house, to have a largerknowledge of its topography than the ascent and descent by means of anelectric lift would allow him. Dr. Fall offered no objection, and ledthe way down the red carpeted stairs. 

"I am well acquainted with people of unsound mind, " T. B. Went on, "especially that section of the insane whose lunacy takes the form ofdropping their aitches. "

"You are being sarcastic at my expense, " said the other, suddenlyturning to him with a lowered brow. "I think it is only right to tellyou that, in addition to being Mr. Moole's secretary, I am a doctor. "

"That is also no news to me, " smiled T. B. "You are an American doctorwith a Pennsylvania degree. You came to England in eighteen hundred andninety-six, on board the _Lucania_. You left New York hurriedly as theresult of some scandal in which you were involved. It is, in fact, mucheasier to trace your movements since the date of your arrival than it isto secure exact information concerning Mr. Moole, who is apparentlyquite unknown to the American Embassy. "

The large face of the secretary flushed to a deep purple. 

"You are possibly exceeding your duty, " he said, gratingly, "inrecalling a happening of which I was but an innocent victim. "

"Possibly I am, " agreed T. B. 

He bowed slightly to the man, and descended the broad steps to theunkempt lawn in front of the house. He was joined at the gate by the twomen he had brought down. One of these was Ela. 

"What did you find?" asked that worthy man. 

"I found much that will probably be useful to us in the future, " said T. B. , as he stepped into the fly, followed by his subordinate. 

He turned to the third detective. 

"You had better wait here, " he said, "and report on who arrives and whodeparts. I shall be back within a couple of hours. "

The man saluted, and the fly drove off. 

"I have one more call to make, " said T. B. Smith, "and I had better makethat alone, I think. Tell the flyman to drop me at Little BradleyRectory. "

Lady Constance Dex was not unprepared for the visit of the detective. She had seen him from the window of her room, driving past the rectoryin the direction of the Secret House, and he found her expectantlywaiting him in the drawing-room. 

He came straight to the heart of the matter. 

"I have just been to visit a man who I understand is a friend of yours, "he said. 

She inclined her head. 

"You mean Mr. Moole?"

"That is the man, " said the cheerful T. B. 

She thought for a long time before she spoke again. She was evidentlymaking up her mind as to how much she would tell this insistent officerof the law. 

"I suppose you might as well know the whole facts of the case, " shesaid; "if you will sit over there, I will supplement the information Igave you in Brakely Square a few days ago. "

T. B. Seated himself. 

"I am certainly a visitor to the Secret House, " she said, after a while. She did not look at the detective as she spoke, but kept her gaze fixedupon the window and the garden without. 

"I told you that I have had one love affair in my life; that affair, "she went on steadily, "was with George Doughton; you probably know hisson. "

T. B. Nodded. 

"It was a case of love at first sight. George Doughton was a widower, agood-natured, easy-going, lovable man. He was a brave and brilliant mantoo, famous as an explorer as you know. I met him first in London; heintroduced me to the late Mr. Farrington, who was a friend of his, andwhen Mr. Farrington came to Great Bradley and took a house here for thesummer, George Doughton came down as his guest, and I got to know himbetter than ever I had known any human being before in my life. "

She hesitated again. 

"We were lovers, " she went on, defiantly, --"why should I not confess toan experience of which I am proud?--and our marriage was to have takenplace on the very day he sailed for West Africa. George Doughton was thevery soul of honour, a man to whom the breath of scandal was as a desertwind, withering and terrible. He was never in sympathy with the modernspirit of our type, was old-fashioned in some respects, had an immenseand beautiful conception of women and their purity, and carried hisprejudices against, what we call smart society, to such an extent that, if a man or woman of his set was divorced in circumstances discreditableto themselves, he would cut them out of his life. "

Her voice faltered, and she seemed to find difficulty in continuing, butshe braced herself to it. 

"I had been divorced, " she went on, in a low voice; "in my folly I hadbeen guilty of an indiscretion which was sinless as it was foolish. Ihad married a cold, rigid and remorseless man when I was little morethan a child, and I had run away from him with one who was never more tome than a brother. A chivalrous, kindly soul who paid for his chivalrydearly. All the evidence looked black against me, and my husband had nodifficulty in securing a divorce. It passed into the oblivion offorgotten things, yet in those tender days when my love for GeorgeDoughton grew I lived in terror least a breath of the old scandal shouldbe revived. I had reason for that terror, as I will tell you. I was, asI say, engaged to be married. Two days before the wedding GeorgeDoughton left me without a word of explanation. The first news that Ireceived was that he had sailed for Africa; thereafter I never heardfrom him. " She dropped her voice until she was hardly audible. 

T. B. Preserved a sympathetic silence. It was impossible to doubt thetruth of all she was saying, or to question her anguish. Presently shespoke again. 

"Mr. Farrington was most kind, and it was he who introduced me to Dr. Fall. "

"Why?" asked T. B. Quickly. 

She shook her head. 

"I never understood until quite lately, " she said. "At the time Iaccepted as a fact that Dr. Fall had large interests in West Africa, andwould enable me to get into communication with George Doughton. Iclutched at straws, so to speak; I became a constant visitor to theSecret House, the only outside visitor that extraordinary domain hasever had within memory. I found that my visits were not without result. I was enabled to trace the movements of my lover; I was enabled, too, tosend letters to him in the certainty that they would reach him. I havereason now to know that Mr. Farrington had another object in introducingme; he wanted me kept under the closest observation lest I should getinto independent communication with George Doughton. That is all thestory so far as my acquaintance with the Secret House is concerned. Ihave only seen Mr. Moole on one occasion. "

"And Farrington?" asked T. B. 

She shook her head. 

"I have never seen Mr. Farrington in the house, " she replied. 

"Or Montague Fallock?" he suggested. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

"I have never seen Montague Fallock, " she said slowly, "though I haveheard from him. He, too, knew of the scandal; he it was who blackmailedme in the days of my courtship. "

"You did not tell me about that, " said T. B. 

"There is little to tell, " she said, with a weary gesture; "it was thismysterious blackmailer who terrified me, and to whose machinations Iascribe George Doughton's discovery, for now I know that he was told ofmy past, and was told by Montague Fallock. He demanded impossible sums. I gave him as much as I could, almost ruined myself to keep thisblackmailer at bay, but all to no purpose. "

She rose and paced the room. 

"I have not finished with Montague Fallock, " she said. 

She turned her white face to the detective, and he saw a hard gleam inher eye. 

"There is much that I could tell you, Mr. Smith, which would enable youperhaps to bring to justice the most dastardly villain that has everwalked the earth. "

"May I suggest, " said T. B. Gently, "that you place me in possession ofthose facts?"

She smiled, implying a negative. 

"I have my own plans for avenging the murder of my lover and the ruin ofmy life, " she said hardly. "When Montague Fallock dies, I would ratherhe died by my hand. "

CHAPTER X

Count Poltavo, a busy man of affairs in these days, walked up the stairsof the big block of flats in which he had his modest dwelling with alittle smile upon his lips and a sense of cheer in his heart. There weremany reasons why this broken adventurer, who had arrived in London onlya few months before with little more than his magnificent wardrobe, should feel happy. He had been admitted suddenly into the circle of theelect. Introductions had been found which paved a way for furtherintroductions. He was the confidential adviser of the most beautifulwoman in London, was the trusted of aristocrats. If there was a wrathfuland suspicious young newspaper man obviously and undisguisedly thirstingfor his blood that was not a matter which greatly affected the Count. Ithad been his good fortune to surprise the secret of the late Mr. Farrington; by the merest of chances he had happened upon the truefinancial position of this alleged millionaire; had discovered him tobe a swindler and in league, so he guessed, with the mysterious MontagueFallock. All this fine position which Farrington had built up was averitable house of cards. It remained now for the Count to discover howfar Farrington's affection for his niece had stayed his hand in hispredatory raid upon the cash balances of his friends and relatives. Anyway, the Count thought, as he fitted a tiny key into the lock of hisflat, he was in a commanding position. He had all the winning cards inhis hand, and if the prizes included so delectable a reward as DorisGray might be, the Count, a sentimental if unscrupulous man, wasperfectly satisfied. He walked through his sitting-room to the bedroombeyond and stood for a moment before the long mirror. It was a trick ofCount Poltavo to commune with himself, and when he was rallied on thispractice, suggestive of vanity to the uninitiated, he confirmed ratherthan disabused that criticism by protesting that there was none whom hecould trust with such absence of fear of consequence as his own brightworthy image. 

He had reason for the smile which curved his thin lips. Every day he wasmaking progress which placed Doris Gray more and more, if not in hispower, at least under his influence. 

He lived alone without any servants save for the old woman who cameevery morning to tidy his flat, and when the bell rang as he stoodbefore the mirror, he answered it himself without any thought as to theimportance of the summons. For Count Poltavo was not above taking in themilk or chaffering with tradesmen over the quality of a cabbage. It wasnecessary that he must jealously husband his slender resources untilfate placed him in possession of a larger and a more generous fortunethan that which he now possessed. He opened the door, and took a stepback, then with a little bow:

"Come in, Mr. Doughton, " he said. 

Frank Doughton strode across the tiny hall, waited until the Count hadclosed the door, and opened another, ushering the visitor into hisstudy. 

"To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit?" asked Poltavo, ashe pushed forward a chair. 

"I wanted to see you on a matter which deeply affects you and me, " saidthe young man briskly, even rudely. 

Count Poltavo inclined his head. He recognized all the disagreeableportents, but he was not in any way abashed or afraid. He had hadexperience of many situations less pleasant than this threatened to beand had played his part worthily. 

"I can give you exactly a quarter of an hour, " he said, looking at hiswatch; "at the end of that period I must leave for Brakely Square. Youunderstand there is to be a reading of the will of our departed friend, and----"

"I know all about that, " interrupted Frank, roughly; "you are not theonly person who has been invited to that pleasant function. "

"You also?" The Count was a little surprised. He himself went as friendand adviser to the bereaved girl, a position which a certain letter hadsecured for him. That letter in three brief lines had told the girl totrust Poltavo. It was about this letter that Frank had come, and he camestraight to the point. 

"Count Poltavo, " he said, "the day after Mr. Farrington's disappearancea messenger brought a letter for Miss Gray. "

Poltavo nodded. 

"So I understand, " he said, smoothly. 

"So you know, " challenged the other, "because it concerned you. It was aletter in which Doris was told to trust you absolutely; it was a letteralso which gave her hope that the man whose body was found in the Thameswas not that of Farrington. "

Poltavo frowned. 

"That is not a view that has been accepted by the authorities, " he saidquickly. "The jury had no doubt that this was the body of Mr. Farrington, and brought in a verdict accordingly. "

Frank nodded. 

"What a jury thinks and what Scotland Yard thinks, " he said, drily, "arenot always in agreement. As a result of that letter, " he went on, "MissGray has reposed a great deal of trust in you, Count, and day by day myefforts to serve her have been made more difficult by her attitude. I ama plain-speaking Englishman, and I am coming to the point, rightnow, "--he thumped the table: "Doris Gray's mind is becoming poisonedagainst one who has no other object in life than to serve herfaithfully. "

Count Poltavo shrugged his shoulders and smiled. 

"My dear young man, " he said, smoothly, "you do not come to me, I trust, to act as your agent in order to induce Miss Gray to take any other viewof you than she does. Because if you do, " he went on suavely, "I amafraid that I cannot help you very much. There is an axiom in theEnglish language to which I subscribe most thoroughly, and it is that'all is fair in love and war. '"

"In love?" repeated Frank, looking the other straight in the eyes. 

"In love, " the Count asserted, with a nod of his head, "it is not theprivilege of any human being to monopolize in his heart all the love inthe world, or to say this thing I love and none other shall love it. Those qualities in Miss Gray which are so adorable to you are equallyadorable to me. "

He spread out his hands in deprecation. 

"It is a pity, " he said, with his little smile, "and I would do anythingto avoid an unpleasant outcome to our rivalry. It is a fact that cannotbe gainsaid that such a rivalry exists. I have reason to know that thelate Mr. Farrington had certain views concerning his niece and ward, andI flatter myself that those views were immensely favourable to me. "

"What do you mean?" asked Frank, harshly. 

The Count shrugged again. 

"I had a little conversation with Mr. Farrington in the course of whichhe informed me that he would like nothing better than to see the futureof Doris assured in my hands. "

Frank went white. 

"That is a lie, " he said, hoarsely. "The views of Mr. Farrington were aswell known to me as they are to you--better, if that is yourinterpretation of them. "

"And they were?" asked the Count, curiously. 

"I decline to discuss the matter with you, " said Frank. "I want only totell you this. If by chance I discover that you are working against meby your lies or your cunning, I will make you very sorry that you evercame into my life. "

"Allow me to show you the door, " said Count Poltavo. "People of my raceand of my family are not usually threatened with impunity. "

"Your race I pretty well know, " said Frank, coolly; "your family is alittle more obscure. If it is necessary for me to go any farther intothe matter, and if I am so curious that I am anxious for information, Ishall know where to apply. "

"And where will that be?" asked the Count softly, his hand upon thedoor. 

"To the Governor of Alexandrovski Prison, " said Frank. 

The Count closed the door behind his visitor, and stood for some momentsin thought. 

It was a depressed little party which assembled an hour later in thedrawing-room of the Brakely Square house. To the Count's annoyance, Frank was one of these, and he had contrived to secure a place near thesad-faced girl and engage her in conversation. The Count did not deem itadvisable at this particular moment to make any attempt to separatethem: he was content to wait. 

T. B. Smith was there. 

He had secured an invitation by the simple process of informing thoseresponsible for the arrangements that if that courtesy was not offeredto him he would come in another capacity than that of a friend. 

The senior partner of Messrs. Debenham & Tree, the great city lawyers, was also present, seated at a table with his clerk, on which paper andink was placed, and where too, under the watchful eyes of his assistant, was a bulky envelope heavily sealed. 

There were many people present to whom the reading of this will would bea matter of the greatest moment. Farrington had left no private debts. Whatever plight the shareholders of the company might be in, he himself, so far as his personal fortune was concerned, was certainly solvent. 

T. B. 's inquiries had revealed, to his great astonishment, that thegirl's fortune was adequately secured. Much of the contents of the will, which was to astonish at least three people that day, was known to T. B. Smith, and he had pursued his investigations to the end of confirmingmuch which the dead millionaire had stated. 

Presently, when Doris left the young man to go to the lawyer for alittle consultation, T. B. Made his way across the room and sat down bythe side of Frank Doughton. 

"You were a friend of Mr. Farrington's, were you not?" he asked. 

Frank nodded. 

"A great friend?"

"I hardly like to say that I was a great friend, " said the other; "hewas very kind to me. "

"In what way was he kind?" asked T. B. "You will forgive me for askingthese somewhat brutal questions, but as you know I have every reason tobe interested. "

Frank smiled faintly. 

"I do not think that you are particularly friendly disposed toward him, Mr. Smith, " he said; "in fact, I rather wonder that you are present, after what happened at the theatre. "

"After my saying that I wanted to arrest him, " smiled T. B. "But whynot? Even millionaires get mixed up in curious illegal proceedings, " hesaid; "but I am rather curious to know what is the reason for Mr. Farrington's affection and in what way he was kind to you. "

Frank hesitated. He desired most of all to be loyal to the man who, withall his faults, had treated him with such kindness. 

"Well, for one thing, " he said, "he gave me a jolly good commission, acommission which might easily have brought me in a hundred thousandpounds. "

T. B. 's interest was awakened. 

"What was that?" he asked. 

In as few words as possible Frank told the story of the search for theheir to the Tollington millions. 

"Of course, " he said, with an apologetic smile, "I was not the man forthe job--he should have given it to you. I am afraid I am not cut outfor a detective, but he was very keen on my taking the matter in hand. "

T. B. Bit his lips thoughtfully. 

"I know something of the Tollington millions, " he said; "they were leftby the timber king of America who died without issue, and whose heir orheirs were supposed to be in this country. We have had communicationsabout the matter. "

He frowned again as he conjured to his mind all the data of thisparticular case. 

"Of course, Farrington was one of the trustees; he was a friend of oldTollington. That money would not be involved, " he said, half to himself, "because the four other trustees are men of integrity holding highpositions in the financial world of the United States. Thank you fortelling me; I will look up the matter, and if I can be of anyassistance to you in carrying out Mr. Farrington's wishes you may besure that I will. "

There was a stir at the other end of the room. With a preliminary cough, the lawyer rose, the papers in his hand. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said, and a silence fell upon the room, "itis my duty to read to you the terms of the late Mr. Farrington's will, and since it affects a great number of people in this room, I shall beglad if you will retain the deepest silence. "

There was a murmur of agreement all round, and the lawyer began readingthe preliminary and conventional opening of the legal document. The willbegan with one or two small bequests to charitable institutions, and thelawyer looking over his glasses said pointedly:

"I need hardly say that there will be no funds available from the estatefor carrying out the wishes of the deceased gentleman in this respect, since they are all contingent upon Mr. Farrington possessing a certainsum at his death which I fear he did not possess. The will goes on tosay, " he continued reading:

"'KNOWING that my dear niece and ward is amply provided for, I can do nomore than leave her an expression of my trust and love, and it may betaken as my last and final request that she marries with the leastpossible delay the person whom it is my most earnest desire she shouldtake as a husband. '"

Two people in the audience felt a sudden cold thrill of anticipation. 

"'That person, '" continued the lawyer, solemnly, "'is my good friend, Frank Doughton. '"

There was a gasp from Frank; a startled exclamation from the girl. Poltavo went red and white and his eyes glowed. T. B. Smith, to whomthis portion of the will was known, watched the actors keenly. He sawthe bewildered face of the girl, the rage in Poltavo's eyes, and theblank astonishment on the face of Frank as the lawyer went on:

"'Knowing the insecurity of present-day investments, and seized with thefear that the fortune entrusted to my keeping might be dissipated by oneof those strange accidents of finance with which we are all acquainted, I have placed the whole of her fortune, to the value of eight hundredthousand pounds, in a safe at the London Safe Deposit, and in the termsof the power vested in me as trustee by her late father I haveinstructed my lawyers to hand her the key and the authority to open thesafe on the day she marries the aforesaid Frank Doughton. And if sheshould refuse or through any cause or circumstance decline to carry outmy wishes in this respect, I direct that the fortune contained thereinshall be withheld from her for the space of five years as from the dateof my death. '"

There was another long silence. T. B. Saw the change come over the faceof Poltavo. From rage he had passed to wonder, from wonder to suspicion, and from suspicion to anger again. T. B. Would have given somethingsubstantial to have known what was going on inside the mind of thissmooth adventurer. Again the lawyer's voice insisted upon attention. 

"'To Frank Doughton, '" he read, "'I bequeath the sum of a thousandpounds to aid him in his search for the Tollington heir. To T. B. Smith, the assistant commissioner at Scotland Yard with whom I have had someacquaintance, and whose ability I hold in the highest regard, I leavethe sum of a thousand pounds as a slight reward for his service tocivilization, and I direct that on the day he discovers the mostinsidious enemy to society, Montague Fallock, he shall receive a furthersum of one thousand pounds from the trustees of my estate. '"

The lawyer looked up from his reading. 

"That again, Mr. Smith, is contingent upon certain matters. "

T. B. Smiled. 

"I quite understand that, " he said, drily, "though possibly you don't, "he added under his breath. 

This was a portion of the will about which he knew nothing for thedocument had been executed but a few days before the tragedy which haddeprived the world of Gregory Farrington. There were a few moreparagraphs to read; certain jewelleries had been left to his dear friendCount Ernesto Poltavo, and the reading was finished. 

"I have only to say now, " said the lawyer, as he carefully folded hisglasses and put them away in his pocket, "that there is a veryconsiderable sum of money at Mr. Farrington's bank. It will be for thecourts to decide in how so far that money is to be applied to theliquidation of debts incurred by the deceased as director of a publiccompany. That is to say, that it will be a question for the supremejudicature whether the private fortune of the late Mr. Farrington willbe seized to satisfy his other creditors. "

There was a haze and a babble of talk. Poltavo crossed with quick stepsto the lawyer, and for a moment they were engaged in quick conversation;then suddenly the adventurer turned and left the room. T. B. Had seenthe move and followed with rapid steps. He overtook the Count in theopen doorway of the house. 

"A word with you, Count, " he said, and they descended the steps togetherinto the street. "The will was rather a surprise to you?"

Count Poltavo was now all smooth equanimity. You might not have thoughtfrom his smooth face and his smile, and his gentle drawling tone, thathe had been affected by the reading of this strange document. 

"It is a surprise, I confess, " he said. "I do not understand my friendFarrington's action in regard to----" he hesitated. 

"In regard to Miss Gray, " smiled T. B. 

Of a sudden the self-control of the man left him, and he turned with asnarling voice on the detective, but his wrath was not directed towardthe cool man who stood before him. 

"The treacherous dog!" he hissed, "to do this--to me. But it shall notbe, it shall not be, I tell you; this woman is more to me than you canimagine. " He struck his breast violently. "Can I speak with youprivately?"

"I thought you might wish to, " said T. B. 

He lifted his hand and made an almost imperceptible signal, and ataxicab which had stood on the opposite side of the road, and followedthem slowly as they walked along Brakely Square, suddenly developedsymptoms of activity, and came whirring across the road to the sidewalk. 

T. B. Opened the door and Poltavo stepped in, the detective following. There was no need to give any instructions, and without any furtherorder the cab whirled its way through the West End until it came to thearched entrance of Scotland Yard, and there the man alighted. By thetime they had reached T. B. 's room, Poltavo had regained something ofhis self-possession. He walked up and down the room, his hands thrustinto his pockets, his head sunk upon his breast. 

"Now, " said T. B. , seating himself at his desk, "what would you like tosay?"

"There is much I would like to say, " said Poltavo, quietly, "and I amnow considering whether it will be in my interest to tell all at thismoment or whether it would be best that I should maintain my silencelonger. "

"Your silence in regard to Farrington I presume you are referring to, "suggested T. B. Smith easily; "perhaps I can assist you a little tounburden your mind. "

"I think not, " said Poltavo, quickly; "you cannot know as much aboutthis man as I. I had intended, " he said, frankly, "to tell you much thatwould have surprised you; at present it is advisable that I should waitfor one or two days in order that I may give some interested people anopportunity of undoing a great deal of mischief which they have done. Imust go to Paris at once. "

T. B. Said nothing; there was no purpose to be served in hastening theissue at this particular moment. The man had recovered hisself-possession, he would talk later, and T. B. Was content to wait, andfor the moment to entertain his unexpected guest. 

"It is a strange place, " said the Count calmly, scrutinizing the room;"this is Scotland Yard! The Great Scotland Yard! of which all criminalsstand in terror, even with which our local criminals in Poland have someacquaintance. "

"It is indeed a strange place, " said T. B. "Shall I show you thestrangest place of all?"

"I should be delighted, " said the other. 

T. B. Led the way along the corridor, rang for the lift, and they wereshot up to the third floor. Here at the end of a long passage, was alarge room, in which row after row of cabinets were methodicallyarrayed. 

"This is our record department, " said T. B. ; "it will have a specialinterest for you, Count Poltavo. "

"Why for me?" asked the other, with a smile. 

"Because I take it you are interested in the study of criminaldetection, " replied T. B. Easily. 

He walked aimlessly along one extensive row of drawers, and suddenlycame to a halt. 

"Here, for instance, is a record of a remarkable man, " he said. Hepulled open a drawer unerringly, ran his fingers along the top of abatch of envelopes and selected one. He nodded the Count to a polishedtable near the window, and pulled up two chairs. 

"Sit down, " he said, "and I will introduce you to one of the minormasters of the criminal world. "

Count Poltavo was an interested man as T. B. Opened the envelope andtook out two plain folders, and laid them on the table. 

He opened the first of these; the photograph of a military-looking manin Russian uniform lay upon the top. Poltavo saw it, gasped, and lookedup, his face livid. 

"That was the Military Governor of Poland, " said T. B. , easily; "he wasassassinated by one who posed as his son many years ago. "

The Count had risen quickly, and stood shaking from head to foot, histrembling hand at his mouth. 

"I have never seen him, " he muttered. "I think your record office isvery close--you have no ventilation. "

"Wait a little, " said T. B. , and he turned to the second dossier. 

Presently he extracted another photograph, the photograph of a youngman, a singularly good-looking youth, and laid it on the table by theside of the other picture. 

"Do you know this gentleman?" asked T. B. 

There was no reply. 

"It is the photograph of the murderer, " the detective went on, "andunfortunately this was not his only crime. You will observe there aretwo distinct folders, each filled with particulars of our young friend'sprogress along the path which leads to the gallows. "

He sorted out another photograph. It was a beautiful girl in a Russianpeasant costume; evidently the portrait of some one taken at a fancydress ball, because both the refined face and the figure of the girlwere inconsistent with the costume. 

"That is the Princess Lydia Bontasky, " said T. B. , "one of the victimsof our young friend's treachery. Here is another. "

The face of the fourth photograph was plain, and marked with sorrow. 

"She was shot at Kieff by our young and high-spirited friend, and diedof her wounds. Here are particulars of a bank robbery organized fiveyears ago by a number of people who called themselves anarchists, butwho were in reality very commonplace, conventional thieves unpossessedof any respect for human life. But I see this does not interest you. "

He closed the dossier and put it back into its envelope, before helooked up at the Count's face. The man was pale now, with a waxen pallorof death. 

"They are very interesting, " he muttered. 

He stumbled rather than walked the length of the room, and he had notrecovered when they reached the corridor. 

"This is the way out, " said T. B. , as he indicated the broad stairs. "Iadvise you, Count Poltavo, to step warily. It will be my duty to informthe Russian police that you are at present in this country. Whether theymove or do not move is a problematical matter. Your fellow-countrymenare not specially energetic where crimes of five years' standing areconcerned. But this I warn you, "--he dropped his hand upon the other'sshoulder, --"that if you stand in my way I shall give you trouble whichwill have much more serious consequences for you. "

Three minutes later Poltavo walked out of Scotland Yard like a man in adream. He hailed the first cab that came past and drove back to hisflat. He was there for ten minutes and emerged with a handbag. 

He drove to the Grand Marylebone Hotel, and detective inspector Ela, whohad watched his every movement, followed in another taxi. He waiteduntil he saw Poltavo enter the hotel, then the officer descended somedistance from the door, and walked nonchalantly to the entrance. 

There was no sign of Poltavo. 

Ela strolled carelessly through the corridor, and down into the big palmcourt. From the palm court another entrance led into the MaryleboneRoad. Ela quickened his steps, went through the big swing doors to thevestibule. 

Yes, the porter on duty had seen the gentleman; he had called a taxi andgone a few minutes before. 

Ela cursed himself for his folly in letting the man out of his sight. 

He reported the result of his shadowing to T. B. Smith over thetelephone, and T. B. Was frankly uncomplimentary. 

"However, I think I know where we will pick him up, " he said. "Meet meat Waterloo; we must catch the 6:15 to Great Bradley. "

CHAPTER XI

"You want to see Mr. Moole?" Dr. Fall asked the visitor. 

"I wish to see Mr. Moole, " replied Poltavo. He stood at the door of theSecret House, and after a brief scrutiny the big-faced doctor admittedhim, closing the door behind him. 

"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked. He had seen the curious gesturethat Poltavo had made--the pass sign which had unbarred the entrance tomany strange people. 

"I want to see Farrington!" replied Poltavo, coolly. 

"Farrington!" Fall's brow knit in a puzzled frown. 

"Farrington, " repeated Poltavo, impatiently. "Do not let us have any ofthis nonsense, Fall. I want to see him on a matter of urgency. I amPoltavo. "

"I know just who you are, " said Fall, calmly, "but why you should comehere under the impression that the late Mr. Farrington is an inmate ofthis establishment I do not understand. We are a lunatic asylum, not amortuary, " he said, with heavy humour. 

Still, he led the way upstairs to the drawing-room on the first floor. 

"What is the trouble?" he asked, as he closed the door behind him. 

Poltavo chose to tell the story of his identification by T. B. Smithrather than the real object of his journey. Fall listened in silence. 

"I doubt very much whether he will see you, " he said: "he is in hisworst mood. However, I will go along and find out what his wishes are. "

He was absent for ten minutes, and when he returned he beckoned to thevisitor. 

Poltavo followed him up the stairs till he came to the room in which thebedridden Mr. Moole lay. 

A man turned as the two visitors came in--it was Farrington in the life, Farrington as he had seen him on the night of his disappearance from thebox at the Jollity. The big man nodded curtly. 

"Why have you come down here, " he asked, harshly, "leading half thedetectives in London to me?"

"I do not think you need bother about half the detectives in London, "said Poltavo. He looked at Fall. "I want to see you alone, " he said. 

Farrington nodded his head and the other departed, closing the doorbehind him. 

"Now, " said Poltavo, --he crossed the room with two strides, --"I want toknow what you mean--you treacherous dog--by this infernal will ofyours!"

"You can sit down, " said Farrington, coolly, "and you can learn rightnow, Poltavo, that I do not stand for any man questioning me as to why Ishould do this or that, and I certainly do not stand for any human beingin the world speaking to me as you are doing. "

"You know that you are in my power, " said Poltavo, viciously. "Are youaware that I could raise my finger and tumble your precious plot intothe dust?"

"There are many things I know, " said Farrington, "and if you knew themtoo you would keep a civil tongue in your head. Sit down. What is thetrouble?"

"Why did you leave that instruction in your will? That Doris was tomarry this infernal Doughton?"

"For a very good reason. "

"Explain the reason!" stormed the angry man. 

"I shall do nothing so absurd, " smiled Farrington, crookedly; "it isenough when I say I want this girl's happiness. Don't you realize, " hewent on rapidly, "that the only thing I have in my life, that is at allclean, or precious, or worth while, is my affection for my niece? I wantto see her happy; I know that her happiness lies with Doughton. "

"You are mad, " snarled the other; "the girl is half in love with me. "

"With you, " Farrington's eyes narrowed; "that is absolutely impossible. "

"Why impossible?" demanded Poltavo loudly; "why impossible?" He thumpedthe table angrily. 

"For many reasons, " said Farrington. "First, because you are unworthy tobe her under-gardener, much less her husband. You are, forgive myfrankness, a blackguard, a thief, a murderer, a forger and a bankrobber, so far as I know. " He smiled. "Yes, I was an interested listenerto your conversation with Fall. I have all sorts of weird instrumentshere by which I can pick up unguarded items of talk, but fortunately Ihave no need to be informed on this subject. I have as complete a recordof your past as our friend Smith, and I tell you, Poltavo, that whilst Iam willing that you shall be my agent, and that you shall profitenormously by working hand in hand with me, I would sooner see myselfdead than I should hand Doris over to your tender mercies. "

An ugly smile played about the lips of Poltavo. 

"That is your last word?" he asked. 

"That is my last word, " said Farrington; "if you will be advised by me, you will let the matter stand where it is. Leave things as they are, Poltavo. You are on the way to making a huge fortune; do not let thisabsurd sentiment, or this equally absurd ambition of yours, step in andspoil everything. "

"And whatever happens you would never allow Doris to marry me?"

"That is exactly what I meant, and exactly what I still say, " saidFarrington, firmly. 

"But, suppose, "--Poltavo's hands caressed his little moustache, and hewas smiling wickedly, --"suppose I force your hand?"

Farrington's eyebrows rose. "How?" he demanded. 

"Suppose I take advantage of the fact that Miss Doris Gray, animpressionable young English girl, receptive to sympathetic admirationand half in love with me--suppose, I say, I took advantage of this fact, and we marry in the face of your will?"

"You would be sorry, " said Farrington, grimly; "you may be sorry thatyou even threatened as much. "

"I not only threaten, " snarled Poltavo, "but I will carry out my threat, and you interfere with me at your peril!" He shook his clenched fist inFarrington's face. The elder man looked at him with a long, earnestglance in which his keen eyes seemed to search the very soul of theRussian. 

"I wish this had not happened, " he said, half to himself. "I had hopedthat there was the making of a useful man in you, Poltavo, but I havebeen mistaken. I never thought that sentiment would creep in. Is itmoney--her fortune?" he asked, suddenly. 

Poltavo shook his head. 

"Curse the money, " he said, roughly; "I want the girl. I tell you, Farrington, every day she grows more precious and more desirable to me. "

"Other women have become precious and desirable to you, " said Farringtonin a low, passionate voice, "and they have enjoyed the fleetinghappiness of your favour for--how long? Just as long as you wanted, Poltavo, and when you have been satisfied and sated yourself with joy, you have cast them out as they had been nothing to you. I know yourrecord, my man, " he said. "All that I want now is to assure myself thatyou are in earnest, because if you are----" He paused. 

"If I am----?" sneered Poltavo. 

"You will not leave this house alive, " said Farrington. 

He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, and the full significance of hisspeech did not dawn upon the Russian until long after he had said it. 

For the space of a second or two his lips were smiling, and then thesmile suddenly froze. His hand went back to his hip pocket andreappeared, holding a long-barrelled automatic pistol. 

"Don't you try any of your tricks on me, " he breathed. "I am quiteprepared for all eventualities, Mr. Farrington; you make a mistake tothreaten me. "

"Not such a mistake as you have made, " smiled Farrington. "You may fireyour pistol to see if it will go off. My own impression is that themagazine has been removed. "

One glance at the weapon was sufficient to demonstrate to the other thatthe man had spoken the truth. He went deathly white. 

"Look here, " he said, genially, "let us make an end to this absurdbreach of friendship. I have come down to see what I can do for you. "

"You have come down now to force me to grant your wishes regardingDoris, " said Farrington. "I think the matter had better end. " He pressedthe bell, and Fall came in after a few moments' interval. 

"Give the Count some refreshment before he goes, " he said; "he is goingto London. "

The very matter-of-factness of the instructions reassured Count Poltavo, who for one moment had stood in a panic of fear; there was that in thisbig silent house which terrified him. And with the removal of this fearhis insolent assurance returned. He stood in the doorway. 

"You have made up your mind about Doris?" he said. 

"Absolutely, " said Farrington. 

"Very good, " said Poltavo. 

He followed Fall along the corridor, and the doctor opened a small doorand illuminated a tiny lift inside, and Poltavo stepped in. As he did sothe door clicked. 

"How do I work this lift?" he asked through the ornamental ironwork ofthe doorway. 

"I work it from outside, " said Dr. Fall, cheerfully, and pressed abutton. The lift sank. It passed one steel door--that was the firstfloor; and another--that was the ground floor, but still the lift didnot stop. It went on falling slowly, evenly, without jar or haste, andsuddenly it came to a stop before a door made of a number of thin steelbars placed horizontally. As the lift stopped, the steel-barred doorwayopened noiselessly. All Poltavo's senses were now alert; he, a pastmaster in the art of treachery, had been at last its victim. He did notleave the tiny lift for a moment, but prepared for eventualities. Hetook a pencil out of his pocket and wrote rapidly on the woodenpanelling of the elevator, and then he stepped out into thesemi-darkness. He saw a large apartment, a bed and chair, and above alarge table one dim light. A number of switches on the wall facing himpromised further illumination. Anyway, if the worst came to the worst, he could find a way by the lift well to safety again. He searched hispockets with feverish haste. He usually carried one or two pistolcartridges in case of necessity, and he was rewarded, for, in his topwaistcoat pocket, he discovered two nickel-pointed shapes. Hastily heremoved the dummy magazine from the butt of his pistol. The removal ofthe magazine must have been effected by his servant, and the servant, now he came to give the matter consideration, was possibly in the pay ofFarrington, and had probably warned the occupants of the Secret House ofPoltavo's departure. 

It was but natural that the big man would take no chances, and Poltavocursed himself for a fool for allowing himself to be lured into a senseof security. He stepped out of the lift; there was enough light to guidehim across the room. He reached the switchboard and pulled one of thelittle levers. Three lights appeared at the far end of the room; hepulled over the rest and the room was brilliantly illuminated. 

It was an underground chamber, with red, distempered walls, artisticallyfurnished. The small bed in the corner was of brass; the air wasconveyed to his gloomy chamber by means of ventilators placed atintervals in the wall. 

Not an uncomfortable prison, thought Poltavo. He was making hisinspection when he heard a clang, and swung round. The steel door of thelift had closed and he reached it just in time to see the floor of thelittle cage ascending out of sight. He cursed himself again for hisinsensate folly; he might have fixed the door with a chair; it was anelementary precaution to take, but he had not realized the possibilitiesof this house of mystery. 

Perhaps the chairs were fixed. He tried them, but found he was mistaken, except in one case. The great chair at the head of the table, solid andheavy, was immovable, for it was clamped to the floor. 

In one corner was a framework, and he guessed it to be the slide inwhich the small provision lift ran. 

His surmise was accurate, for even while he was examining it, a trapopened in the ceiling, and there slid down noiselessly between the oiledgrids a tiny platform on which was a tray filled with covered dishes. Helifted the viands from the little elevator to the table and inspectedthem. There was a note written in pencil. 

"You need have no fear in consuming the food we provide for you, " itran. "Dr. Fall will personally vouch for its purity, and will, ifnecessary, sample it in your presence. If you should need attendance youwill find a small bell fixed on the under side of the table. "

Poltavo looked at the dinner. He was ravenously hungry; he must take thechance of poison; after all, these people had him so completely in theirpower that there was no necessity to take any precaution so far as hisfood was concerned. He attacked an excellent dinner without discomfortto himself, and when he had finished he bethought himself of the bell, and finding it under the edge of the table, he pressed the button. Hehad not long to wait; he heard the faint hum of machinery and walkedacross to the barred gate of the lift, his pistol ready. He waited, hiseyes fixed up at the black square through which he expected the lift tosink, and heard himself suddenly called by name. 

He turned; Doctor Fall was standing in the centre of the room. By whatmeans he had arrived there was no evidence to show. 

"I hope I did not surprise you, " said the doctor, with his quiet smile;"I did not come the way you expected. There are three entrances to thisroom, and they are all equally difficult to negotiate. "

"May I inquire the meaning of this outrage?" asked Poltavo. 

"Your virtuous indignation does you credit, Count, " said the doctor. Hesat down by the table, took a cigar-case from his pocket, and offered itto his unwilling guest. 

"You do not smoke; I am sorry. Would you like a cigarette?"

"Thank you, I have all the cigarettes I require, " said Poltavo, briefly. 

The doctor did not speak until he had leisurely bitten off the end of acigar and lit it. 

"As I say, " he went on, "I admire your _sang froid_. The word 'outrage'comes curiously from you, Count, but I am merely carrying out Mr. Farrington's wishes, when I say that I am perfectly willing to explainyour present unhappy position. In some way you have made our friend veryangry, " he went on, easily; "and at present he is disposed to treat youwith considerable harshness, to mete out the same harsh justice, infact, that he accorded to two of the people who were engaged in thebuilding of this house, and who were predisposed to blackmail him with athreat of betrayal. "

"I knew nothing of these, " said Poltavo. 

"Then you are one of the few people in London who do not, " said Dr. Fall, with a smile. "One was an architect, the other a fairly efficientman of a type you will find on the continent of Europe, and who will bean electrician's assistant or a waiter with equal felicity. These menwere engaged to assist in the construction of the house, they werebrought from Italy with a number of other workmen, and entrusted with asection of its completion. Not satisfied with the handsome pay theyreceived for their workmanship, they instituted a system of blackmailwhich culminated one night at Brakely Square in their untimely death. "

"Did Farrington kill them?" gasped Poltavo. 

"I will not go so far as to say that, " said the suave secretary; "I onlysay that they died. Unfortunately for them, they were actingindependently of one another and quarrelled violently when they foundthat they had both come upon a similar errand, having at last identifiedthe mysterious gentleman, who had commissioned the house, with GregoryFarrington, a worthy and blackmailable millionaire. "

"So that was it, " said Poltavo, thoughtfully. 

"What a fool I was not to understand, not to see the connection. Theywere shot dead outside Farrington's house. Who else could have committedthe crime but he?"

"Again, I will not go so far as to say that, " repeated the secretary; "Imerely remark that the men died a most untimely death, as a result oftheir eagerness to extract advantages from Mr. Farrington, which he wasnot prepared to offer. You, Count Poltavo, are in some danger of sharingthe same fate. "

"I have been in tighter holes than this, " smiled Poltavo, but he wasuneasy. 

"Do not boast, " said the doctor quietly. "I doubt very much whether inyour life you have been in so tight a hole as you are in now. We arequite prepared to kill you; I tell you that much, because Mr. Farringtondoes not ordinarily take risks. In your case, however, he is prepared, just so long as you are impressed with his power to punish, to give youone chance of life. Whether you take that chance or not entirely dependsupon yourself. He will not extract any oaths or promises or pledges ofany kind; he will release you with the assurance that if you will servehim you will be handsomely rewarded, and if you fail him you will bemost handsomely killed; do I make myself clear?"

"Very, " said Poltavo, and the hand that raised the cigarette to his lipstrembled a little. 

"I would like to add, " began the doctor, when the shrill sound of aringing bell rang through the vaulted apartment. Fall sprang up, walkedquietly to the wall, and placed his ear against a portion which appearedto be no different to any other, but which, as Poltavo gathered, concealed a hidden telephone. 

"Yes?" he asked. He listened. "Very good, " he said. 

He turned to Poltavo, and surveyed him gravely. 

"You will be interested to learn, " he said, "that the house is entirelysurrounded by police. You have evidently been followed here. "

A light sprang into Poltavo's eyes. 

"That is very awkward for you, " he said, with a laugh. 

"More awkward for you, I think, " said Doctor Fall, walking slowly tothe farthermost wall of the room. 

"Stop!" said Poltavo. 

The doctor turned. He was covered by the black barrel of Poltavo'spistol. 

"I beg to assure you, " said the Count mockingly, "that this pistol isloaded with two small cartridges which I found in my waistcoat pocket, and which I usually carry in case of emergency. There is at any ratesufficient----"

He said no more, for suddenly the room was plunged in darkness, thelights were extinguished by an unseen hand as at some signal, and amocking laugh came back to him from where Fall had stood. 

"Shoot!" said the voice, but the two cartridges were too precious forPoltavo to take any risks in the dark. He stood waiting, suddenly hearda click, and then the lights came up again. He was alone in the room. Heshrugged his shoulders; there was nothing to do but wait. 

If T. B. Smith had followed him here, and if he had taken the drasticstep of surrounding the house with police, there was hope that he mightbe rescued from his present unhappy plight. If not, he had the promisewhich Farrington had given of his release on terms. 

He heard the whirr of the descending lift; this time it was theelevator by which he himself had descended. It came to a halt at thefloor level and the steel gates swung open invitingly. He must take hischance; anyway, anything was better than remaining in this undergroundroom. 

He stepped into the lift and pulled the gates close after him. To hissurprise they answered readily, and as the lock snapped the lift wentupwards slowly. Two overhanging electric lamps illuminated the littleelevator. They were dangerous to him. With the steel barrel of hispistol he smashed the bulbs and crouched down in the darkness, hisfinger on the trigger, ready for any emergency. 

T. B. Smith was standing in the hall, and behind him three hard-featuredmen from the Yard. Before him was Dr. Fall, imperturbable and obeying asever. 

"You are perfectly at liberty to search the house, " he was saying, "and, as far as Count Poltavo is concerned, there is no mystery whatever. Heis one of the people who have been attracted here by curiosity, and atthe present moment he is inspecting the wonders of our beautifulestablishment. "

There was something of truth in his ironic tone, and T. B. Was puzzled. 

"Will you kindly produce Count Poltavo?"

"With pleasure, " said the secretary. 

It was at that moment that the lift door opened and Poltavo stepped out, pistol in hand. 

He saw the group and took in its significance. He had now to decide inthat moment with whom he should run. His mind was made up quickly; heknew he had no friends in the police force; whatever prosperity awaitedhim must come from Farrington and his influence. 

"An interesting weapon you have in your hand, Count, " drawled T. B. "DoI understand that you have been inspecting the art treasures of theSecret House in some fear of your life?"

"Not at all, " said Poltavo, as he slipped the pistol into his pocket. "Ihave merely been engaged in a little pistol practice in the undergroundshooting gallery; it is an interesting place; you should see it. "

Dr. Fall's eyes did not leave the face of his late prisoner, and Poltavosaw an approving gleam in the dark eyes. 

"I should not, ordinarily, take the trouble to inspect your shootinggallery, " said T. B. Smith with a smile, "because I know that you arenot speaking the exact truth, Count Poltavo. My own impression is thatyou have every reason to be thankful for my arrival. In the presentcircumstances, perhaps, it would be advisable to look over a portion ofyour domain which, so far, has escaped my inspection. "

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is hardly a shooting gallery, but since it is so far removed fromthe living portion of the house we sometimes use it for that purpose, "he said. "I have not the slightest objection to your descending. "

T. B. Entered the lift. It was in darkness, as a result of Poltavo'sprecautions. 

"I will go alone, " said T. B. , and Fall, with a little bow, closed thegates, and the lift descended. 

They waited some time; Fall had the power, from where he was, of closingthe gates below and bringing the lift up again. This Poltavo knew to hiscost, but there were good reasons why the doctor should not exercise hisknowledge, and in a few minutes the lift came back to its originalposition and T. B. Stepped out. 

"Thank you, I have learned all I want to know, " he said with a keenglance at Poltavo. "Really, you have an extraordinary house, Dr. Fall. "

"It is always open to your inspection, " said the doctor, with a heavysmile. 

T. B. Was fingering the little electric lamp, which he carried in hishand, in an absent-minded manner. Presently he put it into his pocket, and, with a nod to his host, walked across the hall. He turned suddenlyand addressed Poltavo. 

"When you were trapped in this house, " he said, quietly, "and expectedconsiderable trouble in escaping from the trap, you took the precaution, like the careful man that you are, of inscribing a message which mightaid those who came to your relief. This message has now served itspurpose, " he smiled, as he saw the look of consternation on Poltavo'sface, "and you will be well advised to invite your friend to wipe itout"; and with another nod he passed from the house, followed by histhree men. 

"What does this mean?" asked Fall, quickly. 

"I--I--" stammered Poltavo, flustered for once in his life, "wrote onthe side of the lift a few words only, nothing incriminating, my deardoctor, just a line to say that I was imprisoned below. "

With a curse Fall dashed into the little elevator. 

"Bring a light, " he said, and struck a match to read the scrawl whichPoltavo had written. Fortunately there was nothing in it which betrayedthe great secret of the house, but it was enough, as he realized, toawaken the dormant suspicion, even supposing it was dormant, of thisindefatigable detective. 

"You have made a nice mess of things, " he said to Poltavo, sternly; "seethat you do not make a greater. We will forgive you once, but the secondattempt will be fatal. "

CHAPTER XII

The distant chime of Little Bradley church had struck one o'clock, whenT. B. Smith stepped from the shadow of the hedge on the east side of theSecret House, and walked slowly toward the road. Two men, crouched inthe darkness, rose silently to meet him. 

"I think I have found a place, " said T. B. , in a low voice. "As Ithought, there are electric alarms on the top of the walls, and electricwires threaded through all the hedges. There is a break, however, where, I think, I can circumvent the alarm. "

He led the way back to the place from which he had been making hisreconnaissance. 

"Here it is, " said T. B. 

He touched a thin twine-like wire with his finger. The third man put theconcentrated ray of an electric lamp upon it. 

"I can make another circuit for this, " he said, and pulled a length ofwire from his pocket. Two minutes later, thanks to quick manipulation ofhis wire, they were able to step in safety across the wall and dropnoiselessly into the grounds. 

"We shall find a man on duty, " whispered T. B. ; "he is patrolling thehouse, and I have an idea that there are trip-wires on the lawn. "

He had fixed a funnel-like arrangement to the head of his lamp, and nowhe carefully scrutinized the ground as he walked forward. The funnel wasso fixed that it showed no light save on the actual patch of ground hewas surveying. 

"Here is one, " he said, suddenly. 

The party stepped cautiously over the almost invisible line of wire, supported a few inches from the ground by steel uprights, placed atregular intervals. 

"They fix these every night after sunset; I have watched them doing it, "said T. B. "There is another line nearer the house. "

They found this, too, and carefully negotiated it. 

"Down!" whispered T. B. Suddenly, and the party sank flat on the turf. 

Ela for a moment could not see the cause for alarm, but presently hediscerned the slow moving figure of the sentry as it passed betweenthem and the house. The man was walking leisurely along, and even in thestarlight they could see the short rifle slung at his shoulder. Theywaited until he had disappeared round the corner of the house, and thencrossed the remaining space of lawn. T. B. Had been carrying a littlecanvas bag, and now he put his hand inside and withdrew by the ears astruggling rabbit. 

"Little friend, " he whispered, "You must be sacrificed in the cause ofscientific criminal investigation. "

He mounted the steps which led to the entrance hall. The steel-beadedcurtain still hung before the door almost brushing the mat as he hadseen it. He released the rabbit, and the startled beast, after a vainattempt to escape back to the lawn, went with hesitating hop on to themat, and then, at a threatening gesture from T. B. , pushed his nose tothe hanging curtain to penetrate his way to safety. Instantly as hetouched it there was a quick flicker of blue light, and the unfortunateanimal was hurled back past T. B. To the gravel path below. Thedetective descended hastily and picked it up. It was quite dead. He feltthe singed hair about its head, and murmured a sympathetic "vale. "

"As I suspected, " he said in a low voice, "an electric death-trap foranybody trying to get into the house that way. Now, Johnson. "

The third man was busy pulling out a pair of rubber boots; he took fromhis pocket a pair of thick rubber gloves, and made his way withconfidence up the steps. He leant down and tried to pull the mat fromits place, but that was impossible. He gathered up the beads cautiouslywith his hands; he was free, by reason of his boots and hishand-covering, from the danger of a shock, but he took good care that noportion of the curtain touched any other part of his body. Verycautiously he drew the bead "chick" aside, looping it back by means ofstrong rubber bands, and then T. B. Went forward. In the meantime he hadfollowed the other's example, and had drawn stout rubber goloshes overhis feet and had put on gloves of a similar material. The lock that hehad noticed earlier in the day was of a commonplace type; the onlydanger was that the inmates had taken the precaution of bolting orchaining the door, but apparently they were content with the protectionwhich their electric curtain might reasonably be expected to afford. Thedoor opened after a brief manipulation of keys, and T. B. Stepped intothe hall. He listened, all his senses strained, for the sound of awarning bell, but none came. Ela and the other man followed. 

"Better remain in the hall, " said T. B. "We shall have to chance theguard not noticing what has happened to the curtain, anyway; perhaps hewill not be round for some time, " he added, hopefully. 

They made a quick scrutiny of the hall, and found no indication ofcables or of wires which would suggest that an alarm had been fixed. T. B. Stole carefully up the stairs, leaving the two men to guard the hallbelow. At every landing he halted, and listened, but the house waswrapped in silence, and he searched the third floor without mishap. 

He recognized the corridor, having taken very careful note of certainpeculiarities, and a scratch on the side of the lift door, which he hadmentally noted for future reference, showed him he was on the righttrack. 

Unerringly and swiftly he passed along the passage till he came to thebig rosewood doors which opened upon the invalid's bedroom. He turnedthe handle gently, it yielded, and he stepped noiselessly through thedoor, and pushed the inner door cautiously. The room was dimlyilluminated, evidently by a night light, thought T. B. , and he pressedthe door farther open that he might secure a better view of theapartment, and then he gasped, for this was not the room he had been inbefore. 

It was a sumptuously arranged bureau, panelled in rosewood, and setabout with costly furniture. A man was sitting at the desk, busilywriting by the light of a table lamp; his back was toward T. B. Thedetective pushed the door farther open, and suddenly the man at the deskleapt up, and turning round, confronted the midnight visitor. 

T. B. Had only time to see that his face was hidden behind a black maskwhich extended from his forehead to his chin. As soon as he saw T. B. Standing in the doorway, he reached out his hand. Instantly the room wasin darkness, and the door, which T. B. Was holding ajar, was suddenlyforced back as if by an irresistible power, flinging the detective intothe corridor, which almost simultaneously was flooded with light. T. B. Turned to meet the smiling face of Dr. Fall. 

The big man, with his white, expressionless countenance, was regardinghim gravely, and with amused resentment. 

Where he had come from T. B. Could only conjecture; he had appeared asif by magic and was fully dressed. 

"To what do I owe the honour of this visit, Mr. Smith?" he said, in hisdry, grim way. 

"A spirit of curiosity, " said T. B. , coolly. "I was anxious to secureanother peep at your Mr. Moole. "

"And how did he look?" asked the other, with a faint smile. 

"Unfortunately, " said T. B. , "I have mistaken the floor, and instead ofseeing our friend, I have unexpectedly and quite unwittingly interrupteda gentleman who, for reasons best known to himself, has hidden hisface. "

Dr. Fall frowned. 

"I do not quite follow you, " he said. 

"Perhaps if I were to follow you back to the room, " said T. B. Good-humouredly, "you might understand better. "

He heard a strange wailing sound and a shivering motion beneath hisfeet, as though a heavy traction engine were passing close to the house. 

"What is that?" he asked. 

"It is one of the unpleasant consequences of building one's house over adisused coal-mine, " said the doctor easily; "but as regards your strangehallucination, " he went on, "I should rather like to disabuse your mindof your fantastic vision. "

He walked slowly back to the room which T. B. Had quitted, and theinner door yielded to his touch. It was in darkness. Dr. Fall put hishand inside the room and there was a click of a switch. 

"Come in, " he said, and T. B. Stepped into the room. 

It was the room he had left in the earlier part of the day. There wasthe blue square of carpet and the silver bedstead, and the same yellowface and unwinking eyes of the patient. The walls were panelled inmyrtle, the same electrolier hung from the ceiling as he had seen on hisprevious visit. Smith gasped, and passed his hand over his forehead. 

"You see, " said the secretary, "you have been the victim of a peculiarand unhappy trick of eyesight; in fact, Mr. Smith, may I suggest thatyou have been dreaming?"

"You may suggest just what you like, " said T. B. Pleasantly. "I shouldlike to see the room below and the room above. "

"With pleasure, " said the other; "there is a storeroom up above whichyou may see if you wish. "

He led the way upstairs, unlocked the door of the room immediately overthat which they had just left, and entered. The room was bare, and theplain deal floor, the distempered walls, and the high skylight showed itto be just as the doctor had described, a typical storeroom. 

"You do not seem to use it, " said T. B. 

"We are very tidy people, " smiled the doctor; "and now you shall see theroom below. "

As they went down the stairs again they heard the curious wail, and T. B. Experienced a tremulous jar which he had noted before. 

"Unpleasant, is it not?" said Dr. Fall. "I was quite alarmed at that atfirst, but it has no unpleasant consequences. "

On the second floor he entered the third room, immediately below that inwhich the sick Mr. Moole was lying. He unlocked this door and theyentered a well-furnished bedroom; on a more elaborate scale than thatwhich T. B. Had seen before. 

"This is our spare bedroom, " said Dr. Fall, easily; "we seldom use it. "

T. B. Slipped into the apartment and made a quick scrutiny. There wasnothing of a suspicious character here. 

"I hope you are satisfied now, " said Dr. Fall as he led the way out, "and that your two friends below are not growing impatient. "

"You have seen them, then, " said T. B. 

"I have seen them, " said the other gravely. "I saw them a few momentsafter you entered the hall. You see, Mr. Smith, " he went on, "we do notemploy anything so vulgar as bells to alarm us. When the entrance dooropens, a red light shows above my bed. Unfortunately, the moment youcame in I happened to be in an adjoining room at work. I had to go intomy bedroom to get a paper, when I saw the light. So, though I am perhapsinaccurate in saying that I have been keeping you under observation fromthe moment you arrived, there was little you did which was notwitnessed. I will show you, if you will be good enough to accompany meto my room. "

"I shall be delighted, " said T. B. 

He was curious to learn anything that the house or its custodian couldteach him. Dr. Fall's room was on the first floor, immediately over theentrance hall, a plain office with a door leading to a cosily, thoughcomparatively expensively furnished bedroom. By the side of the doctor'sbed was a round pillar, which looked for all the world like one of thoseconventional and useless articles of furniture which the suburbanhousewife employs to balance a palm upon. 

"Look down into that, " said the doctor. 

T. B. Obeyed. It was quite hollow, and a little way down was whatappeared to be a square sheet of silver paper. It was unlike any othersilver paper because it appeared to be alive. He could see figuresstanding against it, two figures that he had no difficulty inrecognizing as Ela and Johnson. 

"It is a preparation of my own, " said the doctor. "I thought of takingout a patent for it. An adjustment of mirrors throws the image upon aluminous screen which is so sensitive to light that it can record animpression of your two friends even in the semi-darkness of the hall. "

"Thank you, " said T. B. 

There was nothing to do but to accept his defeat as graciously aspossible. For baffled he was, caught at every turn, and puzzled, moreover, by his extraordinary experience. 

"You will find some difficulty in opening the door, " said the pleasantDoctor Fall. 

"In that I think you are mistaken, " smiled T. B. 

The doctor stopped to switch on the light, and the two discomforteddetectives watched the scene curiously. 

"We have left the door ajar. "

"Still I think you will find a difficulty in getting out, " insisted theother. "Open the door. "

Ela pulled at it, but it was impossible to move the heavy oaken panel. 

"Electrically controlled, " said the doctor; "and you can neither move itone way nor the other. It is an ingenious idea of mine, for which I mayalso apply for a patent one of these days. "

He took a key from his pocket and inserted it in an almost invisiblehole in the oak panelling of the hall; instantly the door opened slowly. 

"I wish you a very good night, " said Doctor Fall, as they stood on thesteps. "I hope we shall meet again. "

"You may be sure, " said T. B. Smith, grimly, "that we shall. "

CHAPTER XIII

Doris Gray was face to face with a dilemma. She stood in a tragicposition; even now, she could not be sure that her guardian was dead. But dead or alive, he had left her a terrible problem, for terrible itseemed to her, for solution. 

She liked Frank Doughton well enough, but she was perhaps too young, hadtoo small a knowledge of the great elements of life to appreciate fullyher true feelings in the matter; and then the influence of this polishedman of the world, this Count of the Roman Empire as he describedhimself, with his stories of foreign capitals, his easy conversation, his acquaintance with all the niceties of social intercourse, had made aprofound impression upon her. At the moment, she might not say with anycertainty, whether she preferred the young Englishman or this suave manof the world. 

The balance was against Frank, and the command contained in the will, the knowledge that she must, so she told herself, make something of asacrifice, was a subject for resentment. Not even the sweetest girl inthe world, obeying as she thought the command of a dead man, who wasespecially fond and proud of her, could be compensated for the fact thathe had laid upon her his dead hands, charging her to obey a commandwhich might very easily be repugnant and hateful to her. 

She did not, in truth, wish to marry anybody. She could well afford toallow the question of her fortune to lapse; she had at least five yearsin which to make up her mind, as to how she felt toward Frank Doughton. She liked him, there was something especially invigorating and wholesomein his presence and in his very attitude towards her. He was socourteous, so kindly, so full of quick, strong sympathy and yet--therewere some depths he could not touch, she told herself, and was vagueherself as to what those depths were. 

She was strolling in Green Park on a glorious April morning, in acomplacent mood, for the trees were in fresh green bud and the flowerbeds were a blaze of colour, when she met Frank, and Frank was soobviously exhilarated that something of his enthusiasm was conveyed toher. He saw her before she had seen him, and came with quickeningfootsteps toward her. 

"I say, " he said explosively, "I have some splendid news!"

"Let us sit down, " she said, with a kindly smile, and made a place forhim by her side on a bench near by. "Now, what is this wonderful news?"

"You remember Mr. Farrington gave me a commission to find the missingheir of Tollington?"

She nodded. 

"Well, I have found him, " he said, triumphantly; "it is an extraordinarything, " he went on, "that I should have done so, because I am not adetective. I told Mr. Farrington quite a long time ago that I neverexpected to make any discovery which would be of any use to him. You seeMr. Farrington was not able to give me any very definite data to workon. It appears that old Tollington had a nephew, the son of his deadsister, and it was to this nephew that his fortune was left. Tollington's sister had been engaged to a wealthy Chicago stockbroker, and the day before the wedding she had run away with an Englishman, withwhom her family was acquainted, but about whom they knew very little. She guessed that he was a ne'er-do-well, who had come out to the Statesto redeem his fallen fortune. But he was not a common adventurerapparently, for he not only refused to communicate with the girl'sparents, although he knew they were tremendously wealthy, but he neverallowed them to know his real name. It appears that he was in Chicagounder a name which was not his own. From that moment they lost sight ofhim. In a roundabout way they learned that he had gone back to Englandand that he had by his own efforts and labours established himselfthere. This news was afterwards confirmed. The girl was in the habit ofwriting regularly to her parents, giving neither her surname noraddress. They answered through the columns of the London _Times_. Thatis how, though they knew where she was situated, all efforts to get intouch with her proved to be unavailing; and when her parents died, andher brother renewed his search, he was met with a blank wall. You see, "Frank went on, a little naïvely, "it is quite impossible to discoveranybody when their name is not even known to one. "

"I see, " smiled the girl; "and have you succeeded where all these peoplehave failed?"

"I have hardly progressed so far as that, " he laughed. "What I havediscovered is this: that the man, who seventy years ago left the UnitedStates with the sister of old Tollington, lived for some years in GreatBradley. "

"Great Bradley!" she said, in surprise; "why, isn't that where LadyConstance Dex lives?"

He nodded. 

"Everybody seems to live there, " he said, ruefully; "even our friend, "he hesitated. 

"Our friend?" she repeated, inquiringly. 

"Your friend Poltavo is there now, " he said, "permanently established asthe guest of Dr. Fall. You have heard of the Secret House?--buteverybody in England has heard of it. "

"I am afraid that everybody does not include me, " she smiled, "but go onwith your story; how did you find that he lived in Great Bradley?"

"Well, it was rather a case of luck, " he explained. "You see, I livedsome years in Great Bradley myself; that is where I first met youruncle. I was a little boy at the time. But it wasn't my acquaintancewith Great Bradley which helped me. Did you see in the paper the otherday the fact that, in pulling down an old post office building, a numberof letters were discovered which had evidently slipped through the floorof the old letter-box, and had not been delivered?"

"I read something about it, " she smiled; "forty or fifty years old, werethey not?"

He nodded. 

"One of these, " he said, quietly, "was addressed to Tollington, and wassigned by his sister. I saw it this morning at the General Post Office. I happened to spot the paragraph, which was sent in to my paper, to theeffect that these letters had been undelivered for forty or fifty years, and fortunately our correspondent at Great Bradley had secured a list ofthe addresses. I saw that one of these was to George Tollington ofChicago, and on the off chance I went down to Great Bradley. Thanks tothe courtesy of the Postmaster-General I was able to copy the letter. Itwas a short one. "

He fumbled in his pocket and produced a sheet of paper. 

"DEAR GEORGE, " he read, "this is just to tell you that we are quite welland prosperous. I saw your advertisement in the _Times_ newspaper andwas pleased to hear from you. Henry sends to you his kindest regards andduties. 

 "Your loving sister, "ANNIE. "

"Of course, it is not much to go on, " he said apologetically, foldingthe letter up and replacing it in his pocket. "I suppose Great Bradleyhas had a constant procession of Annies, but at any rate it issomething. "

"It is indeed, " she smiled. 

"It means quite a lot to me, or at least it did, " he corrected himself. "I had an arrangement with your uncle, which was approved by the othertrustees of the estate. It means a tremendous lot, " he repeated. Therewas some significance in his tone and she looked up to him quickly. 

"In money?" she asked. 

"In other things, " he said, lowering his voice. "Doris, I have not hadan opportunity of saying how sorry I am about the will; it is hatefulthat you should be forced by the wishes of your guardian to take a stepwhich may be unpleasant to you. "

She coloured a little and turned her eyes away. 

"I--I do not want to take advantage of that wish, " he went on awkwardly. "I want you to be happy. I want you to come to me for no other reasonthan the only one that is worth while; that you have learned to care forme as I care for you. "

Still she made no response and he sighed heavily. 

"Some day, " he said, wistfully, "I had hoped to bring in my hands allthe material advantages which a man can offer to the woman he loves. "

"And do you think that would make a difference?" she asked quickly. 

"It would make this difference, " he replied, in the same quiet tone, "that you could not think of me as one who loved you for your fortune, or one who hoped to gain anything from the marriage but the dearest, sweetest woman in the world. "

The eyes which she turned upon him were bright with unshed tears. 

"I do not know how I feel, Frank, " she said. "I am almost as much amystery to myself as I must be to you. I care for you in a way, but I amnot sure that I care for you as you would like me to. "

"Is there anybody else?" he asked, after a pause. 

She avoided his glance, and sat twining the cord of her sunshade abouther fingers. 

"There is nobody else--definitely, " she said. 

"Or tentatively?" he insisted. 

"There are always tentative people in life, " she smiled, parrying hisquestion. "I think, Frank, you stand as great a chance as anybody. " Sheshrugged her shoulders. "I speak as though I were some wonderful prizeto be bestowed; I assure you I do not feel at all like that. I have avery humble opinion of my own qualities. I do not think I have felt someek or so modest about my own qualities as I do just now. "

He walked with her to the end of the park, and saw her into a taxicab, standing on the pavement and watching as she was whirled into theenveloping traffic, out of sight. 

As for Doris Gray, she herself was suffering from some uneasiness ofmind. She needed a shock to make her realize one way or the other whereher affections lay. Poltavo loomed very largely; his face, his voice, the very atmosphere which enveloped him, was constantly present withher. 

She reached Brakely Square and would have passed straight up to herroom, but the butler, with an air of importance, stopped her. 

"I have a letter here, miss. It is very urgent. The messenger asked thatit should be placed in your hands at the earliest possible moment. "

She took the letter from him. It was addressed to her in typewrittencharacters. She stripped the envelope and found yet another inside. Onit was typewritten:

"Read this letter when you are absolutely alone. Lock the door and besure that nobody is near when you read it. "

She raised her pretty eyebrows. What mystery was this? she asked. Still, she was curious enough to carry out the request. She went straight toher own room, opened the envelope, and took out a letter containing halfa dozen lines of writing. 

She gasped, and went white, for she recognized the hand the moment hereyes fell upon it. The letter she held in her shaking hand ran:

"I command you to marry Frank Doughton within seven days. My wholefortune and my very life may depend upon this. "

It was signed "Gregory Farrington, " and heavily underlined beneath thesignature were the words, "Burn this, as you value my safety. "

 * * * * *

T. B. Smith stepped briskly into the office of his chief and closed thedoor behind him. 

"What is the news?" asked Sir George, looking up. 

"I can tell you all the news that I know, " said T. B. , "and a great dealthat I do not know, but only surmise. "

"Let us hear the facts first and the romance afterwards, " growled SirGeorge, leaning back in his chair. 

"Fact one, " said T. B. Drawing up a chair to the table, and ticking offhis fact on the first finger of his hand, "is that Gregory Farrington isalive. The man whose body was picked up in the Thames is undoubtedly thegentleman who was shot in the raid upon the Custom House. The inferenceis, that Gregory was the second party in the raid, and that the attemptto secure the trunk of the admirable Dr. Goldworthy was carefullyconceived. The box apparently contained a diary which gave away Gregoryto one who had it in her power to do him an immense amount of harm. "

"You refer to Lady Constance Dex?" asked the chief, interestedly. 

T. B. Nodded. 

"That is the lady, " he said. "Evidently Farrington has played it prettylow down upon her; was responsible for the death of her lover, and, moreover, for a great deal of her unhappiness. Farrington was the manwho told George Doughton about some scandal of her youth, and Doughton, that high-spirited man, went straight off to Africa withoutcommunicating with the lady or discovering how far she was guilty in thematter. The documents in the box would, I surmise, prove this to LadyDex's satisfaction, and Farrington, who was well informed through hisagents on the Coast, would have every reason for preventing theseletters getting into the hands of a woman who would be remorseless inher vengeance. "

"Is that fact established?" asked the chief. 

"Pretty well, " said T. B. 

He took some papers out of his pocket and laid them on the desk beforehim. 

"I have now got a copy of the letter which the dead lover wrote to LadyConstance. I need not say, " he said lightly, "how I obtained possessionof this, but we in our department do not hesitate to adopt the mostdrastic methods----"

"I know all about that, " said the chief, with a little smile; "there wasburglary at the rectory two days ago, and I presume your interestingburglar was your own Private Sikes. "

"Exactly, " said T. B. Cheerfully. "Fact number two, " he went on, "isthat Gregory Farrington and the international blackmailer named MontagueFallock are one and the same person. "

The chief looked up. 

"You do not mean that?"

"I do indeed, " said T. B. "That interesting paragraph in the will of thelate Mr. Farrington confirms this view. The will was especially preparedto put me off the scent. Letters which have been received by eminentpersonages signed 'Montague Fallock' and demanding, as usual, money withthreats of exposure have recently been received and confirm thistheory. "

"Where is Montague Fallock now?"

"Montague Fallock is an inmate of the Secret House, " said T. B. 

"It seems pretty easy to take him, does it not?" asked Sir George, insurprise. "Have you moved in the matter?"

T. B. Shook his head. 

"It is not so easy as you imagine, " he said. "The Secret House containsmore secrets than we can at present unravel. It was built, evidently andobviously, by a man of extraordinary mechanical genius as Farringtonwas, and the primary object with which it was built was to enable him onsome future occasion to make his escape. I am perfectly certain that anyattempt to raid the house would result immediately in the bird flying. We have got to wait patiently. "

"What I cannot understand, " said his chief, after awhile, "is why heshould make a dramatic exit from the world. "

"That is the easiest of all to explain, " smiled T. B. "He was scared; heknew that I identified him with the missing Fallock; he knew, too, thatI strongly suspected him of the murder of the two men in Brakely Square. Don't you see the whole thing fits together? He imported from variousplaces on the Continent, and at various periods, workmen of every kindto complete the house at Great Bradley. Although he began his workthirty years ago, the actual finishing touches have not been made untilwithin the last few years. Those finishing touches were the mostessential. I have discovered that the two men who were shot in BrakelySquare, were separately and individually employed in making certainalterations to the house and installing certain machinery. 

"One was a young architect, the other was a general utility man. Theywere unknown to each other; each did his separate piece of work and wassent back to his native land. By some mischance they succeeded indiscovering who their employer was, and they both arrived, unfortunatelyfor them, simultaneously at the door of Fallock or Farrington's housewith the object of blackmailing him. Farrington overheard theconversation; he admitted as much. 

"He stood at the door, saw them flourishing their pistols and thought itwas an excellent opportunity to rid himself of a very serious danger. Heshot them from the doorway, closed the doorway behind him, and returnedthe revolver to its drawer in his study, and came down in time to meetthe policeman with energetic protestations of his terror. I smelt thepowder when I went into the house; there is no mistaking the smell ofcordite fired in so confined a place as the hallway of a house. AndLady Dex was also there; she must have witnessed the shooting. "

"Why did she come?" asked the chief. 

"My conjecture is that she came either to confront Farrington withevidence of his complicity, which is unlikely, or else to secureconfirmation of the story her lover told in his last letter. "

"But why shouldn't Farrington disappear in an ordinary way--or why needhe disappear at all?" asked Sir George. "He had plenty of credit in thecity. He had the handling of his niece's fortune. He could have blockedout your suspicion; he is not the kind of man to be scared of a littlething like that. "

"That is where I am at sea, " said T. B. "I must confess hisdisappearance is not consistent with his known character. He certainlyhad the fortune of the girl, and I have no doubt in my mind that he hasa very genuine affection for his niece. Her inheritance, by the way, falls due next month; I do not suppose that had anything to do with it. If he had robbed her of it, or he had dissipated this money which wasleft in his care, one could have understood it, but the fact that he isdead will not restore the fortune if it is gone. "

"What are you doing?" asked the chief. 

"About Farrington?" asked T. B. "I am having the house kept underobservation, and I am taking whatever precautions I can to prevent ourfriend from being scared. I am even attempting to lure him into theopen. Once I can catch him outside of the Secret House, I think he willbe a clever man to escape. "

"And Poltavo?"

"He is in town, " said T. B. "I think he will be a fairly easy man tocircumvent; he is obviously acting now as the agent of our friendFarrington, and he is horribly proud of himself!"

CHAPTER XIV

As T. B. Had said, Poltavo had returned from his brief sojourn in GreatBradley, and emerged into society a new and more radiant being than everhe had been before. 

There had always been some doubt as to the Count's exact financialposition, and cautious hostesses had hesitated before they had invitedthis plausible and polished man to their social functions. There werewhispers adverse as to his standing; there were even bold people whocalled into question his right to employ the title which graced hisvisiting cards. There were half a dozen Poltavos in the _Almanack DeGotha_, any one of whom might have been Ernesto, for so vague is thePolish hierarchy that it was impossible to fix him to any particularfamily, and he himself answered careless inquiries with a cryptic smilewhich might have meant anything. 

But with his return to London, after his brief absence, there was noexcuse for any hostess, even the most sceptical, in refusing to admithim to social equality on the ground of poverty. The very day hereturned he acquired the lease of a house in Burlington Gardens, purchased two motor-cars, paying cash down for an early delivery, gaveorders left and right for the enrichment of his person and his domicile, and in forty-eight hours had established himself in a certain mode ofliving which suggested that he had never known any other. 

He had had his lesson and had profited thereby. He had experienced anunpleasant fright, though he might not admit it to Dr. Fall and hismaster; it was nevertheless a fact that, realizing as he did that he hadstood face to face with a particularly unpleasant death, he had beenseized by a panic which had destroyed his ordinary equilibrium. 

"You may trust me, my friend, " he muttered to himself, as he sorted overthe papers on his brand-new desk in his brand-new study, in a housewhich was still redolent of the painter's art and presence. "You maytrust me just so long as I find it convenient for you to trust me, butyou may be sure that never again will I give you the benefit of mypresence in the Secret House. "

He had come back with a large sum of money to carry out his employer'splans. There were a hundred agents through the country, particulars ofwhom Poltavo now had in his possession. Innocent agents, and guiltyagents; agents in high places and active agents in the servants' hall. Undoubtedly _Gossip's Corner_ was a useful institution. 

Farrington had not made a great deal of money from its sale; indeed, asoften as not, it showed a dead loss every year. But he paid well forcontributions which were sent to him, and offered a price, whichexceeded the standard rate of pay, for such paragraphs as wereacceptable. 

Men and women, with a malicious desire to score off some enemy, wouldsend him items which the newspapers would publish if they concernedsomebody who might not be bled. Many of these facts in an amended formwere, in fact, printed. 

But more often than not the paragraphs and articles which came to theunknown editor dealt with scandal which it was impossible to put intoprint. Nevertheless, the informant would be rewarded. In some far-awaycountry home a treacherous servant would receive postal orders to his orher great delight, but the news she or he had sent in their malice, atit-bit concerning some poor erring woman or some foolish man, wouldnever see the light of day, and the contributor might look in vain forthe spicy paragraph which had been composed with such labour. 

The unfortunate subjects of domestic treachery would receive in a day ortwo a letter from the mysterious Montague Fallock, retailing, to theirhorror, those precious secrets which they had imagined none knew butthemselves. They would not associate the gossipy little rag, whichsometimes found its way to the servants' hall, with the magnificentdemand of this prince of blackmailers, and more often than not theywould pay to the utmost of their ability to avoid exposure. 

It was not only the servants' hall which supplied Montague Fallock withall the material for his dastardly work. There were men scarcelydeserving the name, and women lost to all sense of honour, who found inthis little journal means by which they could "come back" at thosefavoured people who had offered them directly or indirectly some slightoffence. Sometimes the communication would reach the _Gossip_anonymously, but if the facts retailed were sufficiently promising, oneof Fallock's investigators would be told off to discover how much truththere was in it. A bland letter would follow, and the wretched victimwould emerge from the transaction the poorer in pocket and often inhealth. 

For this remorseless and ruthless man destroyed more than fortunes; hetrafficked in human lives. There had been half a dozen mysterioussuicides which had been investigated by Scotland Yard, and founddirectly traceable to letters received in the morning, and burnt by thedespairing victim before his untimely and violent departure from life. 

The office of the paper was situated at the top of a building in FleetStreet; one back room comprised the whole of its editorial space, andone dour man its entire staff. It was his duty to receive thecorrespondence as it came and to convey it to the cloakroom of a Londonstation. An hour later it would be called for by a messenger andtransferred to another cloakroom. Eventually it would arrive in thepossession of the man who was responsible for the contents of the paper. Many of these letters contained contributions in the ordinary way ofbusiness, a story or two contributed by a more or less well-knownwriter. Fallock, or Farrington, needed these outside contributions, notonly to give the newspaper a verisimilitude of genuineness, but also tofill the columns of the journal. 

He himself devoted his energies to two pages of shrewdly edited tit-bitsof information about the great. They were carefully written, oftendevoid of any reference to the person whom they affected, and were moreor less innocuous. But in every batch of letters there were always oneor two which gave the master blackmailer an opportunity for extractingmoney from people, who had been betrayed by servants or friends. Therewas a standing offer in the _Gossip_ of five guineas for any paragraphwhich might be useful to the editor, and it is a commentary upon themorality of human nature that there were times when Farrington paid outnearly a thousand pounds a week for the information which hisunscrupulous contributors gave him. 

There was work here for Poltavo; he was an accomplished scholar, and ashrewd man of affairs. If Farrington had been forced to accept hisservice, having accepted them, he could do no less than admit the wisdomof his choice. In his big study, with the door locked, Poltavo carefullysorted the correspondence, thinking the while. 

If he played his cards well he knew his future was assured. Theconsequence of his present employment, the misery it might bring to theinnocent and to the foolishly guilty alike, did not greatly trouble him;he was perfectly satisfied with his own position in the matter. He hadfound a means of livelihood, which offered enormous rewards and theminimum of risk. In his brief stay at the Secret House, Farrington hadimpressed upon him the necessity for respecting trifles. 

"If you can make five shillings out of a working man, " was his dictum, "make it. We cannot afford to despise the smallest amount, " and inconsequence Poltavo was paying as much attention to the ill-written andilliterate scrawls which came from the East End of London, as he was tothe equally illiterate efforts of the under-butler, describing an errorof his master's in a northern ducal seat. Poltavo went through theletters systematically, putting this epistle to the right, and that tothe left; this to make food for the newspaper; that, as a subject forfurther operations. Presently he stopped and looked up at the ceiling. 

"So she must marry Frank Doughton within a week, " he said to himself inwonder. 

Yes, Farrington had insisted upon carrying out his plans, knowing thepower he held, and he, Poltavo, had accepted the ultimatum in allmeekness of spirit. 

"I must be losing my nerve, " he muttered. "Married in a week! Am I togive her up, this gracious, beautiful girl--with her future, or withouther fortune?"

He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile to see. "No, my friend, Ithink you have gone a little too far. You depended too much upon myacquiescence. Ernesto, _mon ami_, you have to do some quick thinkingbetween now and next Monday. "

A telephone buzzed at his elbow, and he took it off and listened. 

"Yes?" he asked, and then he recognized the speaker's voice, and hisvoice went soft and caressing, for it was the voice of Doris Gray thathe heard. 

"Can you see me to-morrow?" she asked. 

"I can see you to-day, my lady, at once, if you wish it, " he said, lightly. 

There was a little hesitation at the other end of the wire. 

"If you could, I should feel glad, " she said. "I am rather troubled. "

"Not seriously, I hope?" he asked, anxiously. 

"I have had a letter from some one, " she said, meaningly. 

"I think I understand, " he replied; "some one wishes you to do a thingwhich is a repugnant to you. "

"I cannot say that, " she said, and there was despair in her voice; "allI know is that I am bewildered by the turn events have taken. Do youknow the contents of the letter?"

"I know, " he said, gently; "it was my misfortune to be the bearer of thecommunication. "

"What do you think?" she asked, after a while. 

"You know what I think, " he said, passionately. "Can you expect me toagree to this?"

The intensity of his voice frightened her, and she rapidly strove tobring him down to a condition of normality. 

"Come to-morrow, " she said, hastily. "I would like to talk it over withyou. "

"I will come at once, " he said. 

"Perhaps you had better not, " she hesitated. 

"I am coming at once, " he said, firmly, and hung up the receiver. 

In that moment of resentment against the tyranny of his employer, heforgot all the dangers which the Secret House threatened; all its swiftand wicked vengeance. He only knew, with the instinct of a beast of preywho saw its quarry stolen under its very eyes, the loss which this manwas inflicting upon him. Five minutes later he was in Brakely Squarewith the girl. She was pale and worried; there were dark circles roundher eyes which spoke eloquently of a sleepless night. 

"I do not know what to do, " she said. "I am very fond of Frank. I canspeak to you, can I not, Count Poltavo?"

"You may confide in me absolutely, " he said, gravely. 

"And yet I am not so fond of him, " she went on, "that I can marry himyet. "

"Then why do you?" he asked. 

"How can I disobey this?" She held the letter out. 

He took it from her hand with a little smile, walked to the fireplaceand dropped it gently upon the glowing coals. 

"I am afraid you are not carrying out instructions, " he said, playfully. 

There was something in this action which chilled her; he was thinkingmore of his safety and his duty to Farrington than he was of her, shethought: a curiously inconsistent view to take in all the circumstances, but it was one which had an effect upon her after actions. 

"Now listen to me, " he said, with his kindly smile; "you have not totrouble about this; you are to go your own way and allow me to make itright with Farrington. He is a very headstrong and ambitious man, andthere is some reason perhaps why he should want you to marry Doughton, but as to that I will gain a little more information. In the meantimeyou are to dismiss the matter from your mind, leaving everything to me. "

She shook her head. 

"I am afraid I cannot do that, " she said. "Unless I have a letter frommy guardian expressing wishes to the contrary, I must carry out hisdesires. It is dreadful--dreadful, "--she wrung her handspiteously, --"that I should be placed in this wretched position. How canI help him by marrying Frank Doughton? How can I save him--can you tellme?"

He shook his head. 

"Have you communicated with Mr. Doughton?"

She nodded. 

"I sent him a letter, " she hesitated. "I have kept a draft of it; wouldyou like to see it?"

A little shade of bitter anger swept across his face, but with an efforthe mastered himself. 

"I should, " he said, evenly. 

She handed the sheet of paper to him. 

"DEAR FRANK, " it ran, "for some reason which I cannot explain to you, itis necessary that the marriage which my uncle desired should take placewithin the next week. You know my feelings towards you; that I do notlove you, and that if it were left to my own wishes this marriage wouldnot take place, but for a reason which I cannot at the moment give you Imust act contrary to my own wishes. This is not a gracious nor an easything to say to you, but I know you well enough, with your large, generous heart and your kindly nature, to realize that you willunderstand something of the turmoil of feelings which at presentdominate my heart. "

Poltavo finished reading, and put the letter back on the table; hewalked up and down the room without saying a word, then he turned on hersuddenly. 

"Madonna!" he said, in the liquid Southern accents of his--he had spenthis early life in Italy and the address came naturally to him--"if FrankDoughton were I, would you hesitate?"

A look of alarm came into the girl's eyes; he saw then his mistake. Hehad confounded her response to his sympathy with a deeper feeling whichshe did not possess. In that one glimpse he saw more than she knewherself, that of the two Frank was the preferable. He raised his handand arrested her stammering speech. 

"There is no need to tell me, " he smiled; "perhaps some day you willrealize that the love Count Poltavo offered you was the greatestcompliment that has ever been paid to you, for you have inspired the onepassion of my life which is without baseness and without ulteriormotives. "

He said this in a tremulous voice, and possibly he believed it. He hadsaid as much before to women whom he had long since forgotten, but whocarried the memory of his wicked face to their graves. 

"Now, " he said, briskly, "we must wait for Mr. Doughton's answer. "

"He has already answered, " she said; "he telephoned me. "

He smiled. 

"How typically English, almost American, in his hustle; and when is thehappy event to take place?" he bantered. 

"Oh, please, don't, don't, "--she raised her hands and covered herface, --"I hardly know that, even now, I have the strength to carry outmy uncle's wishes. "

"But when?" he asked, more soberly. 

"In three days. Frank is getting a special licence; we are----" Shehesitated, and he waited. 

"We are going to Paris, " she said, with a pink flush in her face, "butFrank wishes that we shall live"--she stopped again, and then went onalmost defiantly--"that we shall live apart, although we shall not beable to preserve that fact a secret. "

He nodded. 

"I understand, " he said; "therein Mr. Doughton shows an innate delicacy, which I greatly appreciate. "

Again that little sense of resentment swept through her; the patronagein his tone, the indefinable suggestion of possession was, she thought, uncalled for. That he should approve of Frank in that possessive mannerwas not far removed from an impertinence. 

"Have you thought?" he asked, after a while, "what would happen if youdid not marry Frank Doughton in accordance with your uncle'swishes--what terrible calamity would fall upon your uncle?"

She shook her head. 

"I do not know, " she said, frankly. "I am only beginning to get a dimidea of Mr. Farrington's real character. I always thought he was akindly and considerate man; now I know him to be----" She stopped, andPoltavo supplied her deficiency of speech. 

"You know him to be a criminal, " he smiled, "a man who has for yearsbeen playing upon the fears and the credulity of his fellow-creatures. That must have been a shocking discovery, Miss Gray, but at least youwill acquit him of having stolen your fortune. "

"It is all very terrible, " she said; "somehow every day brings it to me. My aunt, Lady Dinsmore, was right. "

"Lady Dinsmore is always right, " he said, lightly; "it is one of theprivileges of her age and position. But in what respect was she right?"

The girl shook her head. 

"I do not think it is loyal of me to tell you, but I must. She alwaysthought Mr. Farrington was engaged in some shady business and has warnedme time after time. "

"An admirable woman, " said Poltavo, with a sneer. 

"In three days, " he went on, thoughtfully. "Well, much may happen inthree days. I must confess that I am anxious to know what would be theresult of this marriage not taking place. "

He did not wait for an expression of her views, but with a curt littlebow he ushered himself out of the room. 

"Three days, " he found himself repeating, as he made his way back to hishouse. "Why should Farrington be in such a frantic hurry to marry thegirl off, and why should he have chosen this penniless reporter?"

This was a matter which required a great deal of examination. 

Two of those three days were dream days for Frank Doughton; he could notbelieve it possible that such a fortune could be his. But with his joythere ran the knowledge that he was marrying a woman who had no desirefor such a union. 

But she would learn to love him; so he promised himself in his optimismand the assurance of his own love. He had unbounded faith in himself, and was working hard in these days, not only upon his stories, but uponthe clue which the discovery of the belated letter afforded him. He hadcarefully gone through the parish list to discover the Annies of thepast fifty years. In this he was somewhat handicapped by the fact thatthere must have been hundreds of Annies who enjoyed no separateexistence, married women who had no property qualification to appear onratepayers' lists; anonymous Annies, who perhaps employed that as a petname, instead of the name with which they had been christened. 

He had one or two clues and was following these industriously. For themoment, however, he must drop this work and concentrate his mind uponthe tremendous and remarkable business which his coming marriageinvolved. He had a series of articles to write for the _Monitor_, and heapplied himself feverishly to this work. 

It was two nights before his marriage that he carried the last of hiswork to the great newspaper office on the Thames Embankment, anddelivered his manuscript in person to the editor. 

That smiling man offered his congratulations to the embarrassed youth. 

"I suppose we shall not be looking for any articles from you for quite along time, " he said, at parting. 

"I hope so, " said the other. "I do not see why I should starve because Iam married. My wife will be a very rich woman, " he said quietly, "but sofar as I am concerned that will make no difference; I do not intendtaking one penny of her fortune. "

The journalist clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Good lad, " he said, approvingly; "the man who lives on his wife'sincome is a man who has ceased to live. "

"That sounds like an epigram, " smiled Frank. 

He looked at his watch as he descended the stairs. It was nine o'clockand he had not dined; he would go up to an eating house in Soho and havehis frugal meal before he retired for the night. He had had a heavy day, and a heavier day threatened on the morrow. Outside the newspaper officewas a handsome new car, its lacquer work shining in the electric light. Frank was passing when the chauffeur called him. 

"Excuse me, sir, " he said, touching his cap, "are you Mr. FrankDoughton?"

"That is my name, " said Frank, in surprise, for he did not recognizethe man. 

"I have been asked to call and pick you up, sir. "

"Pick me up?" asked the astonished Frank--"by whom?"

"By Sir George Frederick, " said the man, respectfully. 

Frank knew the name of the member of Parliament and puzzled his brain asto whether he had ever met him. 

"But what does Sir George want with me?" he asked. 

"He wanted five minutes' conversation with you, sir, " said the man. 

It would have been churlish to have refused the member's request;besides, the errand would take him partly on his way. He opened the doorof the landaulet and stepped in, and as the door swung to behind him, hefound he was not alone in the car. 

"What is the----" he began, when a powerful hand gripped his throat, andhe was swung backward on the padded seat as the car moved slowly forwardand, gathering speed as it went, flew along the Thames Embankment withits prisoner. 

CHAPTER XV

In the rectory at Great Bradley, Lady Constance Dex arose from asleepless night to confront her placid brother at the breakfast table. The Reverend Jeremiah Bangley, a stout and easy man, who spent as muchof his time in London as in his rectory, was frankly nonplussed by theapparition. He was one of those men, common enough, who accept the mostextraordinary happenings as being part of life's normal round. Anearthquake in Little Bradley which swallowed up his church and the majorportion of his congregation would not have interested him any more thanthe budding of the trees, or a sudden arrival of flower life in his bigwalled garden. Now, however, he was obviously astonished. 

"What brings you to breakfast, Constance?" he asked. "I have not seenyou at this table for many years. "

"I could not sleep, " she said, as she helped herself at the sideboardto a crisp morsel of bacon. "I think I will take my writing pad to MoorCottage. "

He pursed his lips, this easy going rector of Little Bradley. 

"I have always thought, " he said, "that Moor Cottage was not the mostdesirable gift the late Mr. Farrington could have made to you. " Hepaused, to allow her a rejoinder, but as she made no reply, he went on:"It is isolated, standing on the edge of the moor, away from theordinary track of people. I am always scared, my dear Constance, thatone of these days you will have some wretched tramp, or a person of thecriminal classes, causing you a great deal of distress and no littleinconvenience. "

There was much of truth in what he said. Moor Cottage, a pretty littleone-storied dwelling, had been built by the owner of the Secret House atthe same time that the house itself had been erected. It was intended, so the builder said, to serve the purpose of a summer house, andcertainly it offered seclusion, for it was placed on the edge of themoor, approached by a by-road which was scarcely ever traversed, sinceBradley mines had been worked out and abandoned. 

Many years ago when the earth beneath the moor had been tunnelled leftand right by the seekers after tin and lead, Moor Cottage might havestood in the centre of a hive of industry. The ramshackle remains of theminers' cottage were to be seen on the other side of the hill; thebroken and deserted headgear of the pit, and the discoloured chimney ofthe old power house were still visible a quarter of a mile from thecottage. 

It suited the owner of the Secret House, however, to have this littlecottage erected, though it was nearly two miles from the Secret House, and he had spared neither expense nor trouble in preparing a handsomeinterior. 

Lady Constance Dex had been the recipient of many gifts from Mr. Farrington and his friends. There had been a period when Farringtoncould not do enough for her, and had showered upon her every mark of hisesteem, and Moor Cottage had perhaps been the most magnificent of thesepresents. Here she could find seclusion, and in the pretty oak-panelledrooms reconstruct those happy days which Great Bradley had at one timeoffered to her. 

"It is a little lonely, " she smiled at her brother. 

She had a good-natured contempt for his opinion. He was a large, lethargic man, who had commonplace views on all subjects. 

"But really you know, Jerry, I am quite a capable person, and Brownwill be near by, in case of necessity. "

He nodded, and addressed himself again to the _Times_, the perusal ofwhich she had interrupted. 

"I have nothing more to say, " he said from behind his newspaper. By andby he put it down. 

"Who is this Mr. Smith?" he asked, suddenly. 

"Mr. Smith?" she said, with interest. "Which Mr. Smith are you referringto?"

"I think he is a detective person, " said the Reverend Jeremiah Bangley;"he has honoured us with a great number of visits lately. "

"You mean----?"

"I mean Great Bradley, " he explained. "Do you think there is anythingwrong at the Secret House?"

"What could there be wrong, " she asked, "that has not been wrong for thelast ten or twenty years?"

He shrugged his massive shoulders. 

"I have never quite approved of the Secret House, " he said, unnecessarily. 

She finished her hurried breakfast and rose. 

"You have never approved of anything, Jerry, " she said, tapping him onthe shoulder as she passed. 

She looked through the window; the victoria she had ordered was waitingat the door, with the imperturbable Brown sitting on the box. 

"I shall be back to lunch, " she said. 

Looking through a window he saw her mount into the carriage carrying aportfolio. In that letter case, although he did not know it, were theletters and diaries which Dr. Goldworthy had brought from the Congo. Inthe seclusion of Moor Cottage she found the atmosphere to understand thewords, written now in fire upon her very soul, and to plan her future. 

There was no servant at Moor Cottage. She was in the habit of sendingone of her own domestic staff after her visit to make it tidy for herfuture reception. 

She let herself in through the little door placed under thegreen-covered porch. 

"You can unharness the horse; I shall be here two hours, " she said tothe waiting Brown. 

The man touched his hat. He was used to these excursions and waspossessed of the patience of his class. He backed the victoria on to themoor by the side of the fence which surrounded the house. There was alittle stable at the back, but it was never used. He unharnessed thehorse, fixed his nosebag, and sat down to read his favourite newspaper;a little journal which dealt familiarly with the erratic conduct of theupper classes. He was not a quick reader, and there was sufficient inthe gossipy journal to occupy his attention for three or four hours. Atthe end of an hour he thought he heard his lady's voice calling him, andjumping up, he walked to the door of the cottage. 

He listened, but there was no other sound, and he came back to hisprevious position, and continued his study of the decadent aristocracy. Four hours he waited, and assailed by a most human hunger, his patiencewas pardonably exhausted. 

He rose slowly, harnessed the horse, and drove the victoriaostentatiously before the window of the little sitting-room which LadyConstance Dex used as a study. Another half an hour passed without anyresponse, and he got down from his box and knocked at the door. 

There was no answer; he knocked again; still no reply. 

In alarm he went to the window and peered in. The floor was strewn withpapers scattered in confusion. A chair had been overturned. More to thepoint, he saw an overturned inkpot, which was eloquent to his orderedmind of an unusual happening. 

Increasingly alarmed, he put his shoulder to the door, but it did notyield. He tried the window; it was locked. 

It was at that moment that a motor came swiftly over the hill from thedirection of the rectory. With a jar it came to a sudden stop before thehouse, and T. B. Smith leapt out. 

Brown had seen the detective before on his visits to the rectory, andnow hailed him as veritably god-sent. 

"Where is Lady Constance?" asked T. B. , quickly. 

The man pointed to the house with trembling finger. 

"She's in there somewhere, " he said, fretfully, "but I can't make heranswer ... And the room appears to be very disordered. "

He led the way to the window. T. B. Looked in and saw that whichconfirmed his worst fears. 

"Stand back, " he said. 

He raised his ebony stick and sent it smashing through the glass. In asecond his hand was inside unlocking the latch of the window; a fewseconds later he was in the room itself. He passed swiftly from room toroom, but there was no sign of Lady Constance. On the floor of the studywas a piece of lace collar, evidently wrenched from her gown. 

"Hullo!" said Ela, who had followed him. He pointed to the table. On asheet of paper was the print of a bloody palm. 

"Farrington, " said T. B. , briefly, "he has been here; but how did heget out?"

He questioned the coachman closely, but the man was emphatic. 

"No, sir, " he said, "it would have been impossible for anybody to havepassed out of here without my seeing them. Not only could I see thecottage from where I sat, but the whole of the hillside. "

"Is there any other place where she could be?"

"There is the outhouse, " said Brown, after a moment's thought; "we usedto put up the victoria there, but we never use it nowadays in fineweather. "

The outhouse consisted of a large coachhouse and a small stable. Therewas no lock to the doors, T. B. Noticed, and he pulled them open wide. There was a heap of straw in one corner, kept evidently as a provisionagainst the need of the visiting coachman. T. B. Stepped into theouthouse, then suddenly with a cry he leant down, and caught a figure bythe collar and swung him to his feet. 

"Will you kindly explain what you are doing here?" he asked, and thengave a gasp of astonishment, for the sleepy-eyed prisoner in his handswas Frank Doughton. 

"It is a curious story you tell me, " said T. B. 

"I admit it is curious, " said Frank, with a smile, "and I am so sleepythat I do not know how much I have told you, and how much I haveimagined. "

"You told me, " recapitulated T. B. , "that you were kidnapped last nightin London, that you were carried through London and into the country inan unknown direction, and that you made your escape from the motor-carby springing out in the early hours of this morning, whilst the car wasgoing at a slackened speed. "

"That is it, " said the other. "I have not the slightest idea where I am;perhaps you can tell me?"

"You are near Great Bradley, " said T. B. , with a smile. "I wonder you donot recognize your home; for home it is, as I understand. "

Frank looked round with astonished eyes. 

"What were they bringing me here for?" he demanded. 

"That remains to be discovered, " replied T. B. ; "my own impression isthat you----"

"Do you think I was being taken to the Secret House?" interrupted theyoung man, suddenly. 

T. B. Shook his head. 

"I should think that was unlikely. I suspect our friend Poltavo ofhaving carried out this little coup entirely on his own. I furthersuspect his having brought the car in this direction with no otherobject than to throw suspicion upon our worthy friends across thehill--and how did you come to the outhouse?"

"I was dead beat, " explained Frank. "I had a sudden spasm of strengthwhich enabled me to out-distance those people who were pursuing me, butafter I had shaken them off I felt that I could drop. I came upon thiscottage, which seemed the only habitation in view, and afterendeavouring to waken the occupants I did the next best thing, I made myway into the coachhouse and fell asleep. "

T. B. Had no misgivings so far as this story was concerned; he acceptedit as adding only another obstacle to the difficulties of his alreadydifficult task. 

"You heard no sound whilst you lay there?"

"None whatever, " said the young man. 

"No sound of a struggle, I mean, " said T. B. , and then it was that heexplained to Frank Doughton the extraordinary disappearance of the ownerof Moor Cottage. 

"She must be in the house, " said Frank. 

They went back and resumed their search. Upstairs was a bedroom, andadjoining a bath-room. On the ground floor were two rooms: the study hehad quitted and a smaller room beautifully decorated and containing apiano. But the search was fruitless; Lady Constance Dex had disappearedas though the earth had opened and swallowed her up. There was no signof a trap in the whole of the little building, and T. B. Was baffled. 

"It is a scientific axiom, " he said, addressing Ela with a thoughtfulglint in his eye, "that matter must occupy space, therefore LadyConstance Dex must be in existence, she cannot have evaporated into thinair, and I am not going to leave this place until I find her. "

Ela was thinking deeply, and frowning at the untidiness of the table. 

"Do you remember that locket which you found on one of the dead men inBrakely Square?" he asked suddenly. 

T. B. Nodded. He put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, for he hadcarried that locket ever since the night of its discovery. 

"Let us have a look at the inscription again, " said Ela. 

They drew up chairs to the table and examined the little circular labelwhich they had found in the battered interior. 

 "Mor: Cot. God sav the Keng. "

Ela shook his head helplessly. 

"I am perfectly sure there is a solution here, " he said. "Do you seethose words on the top? 'Mor: Cot. '--that stands for Moor Cottage. "

"By Jove, so it does, " said T. B. , picking up the locket; "that neverstruck me before. It was the secret of Moor Cottage which this mandiscovered, and with which he was trying to blackmail our friend. So faras the patriotic postscript is concerned that is beyond myunderstanding. "

"There is a meaning to it, " said Ela, "and it is not a cryptogrameither. You see how he has forgotten to put the 'e' in 'save'? And hehas spelt 'king' 'keng. '"

They waited before the house whilst Brown drove to the rectory, and thenon to the town. Jeremiah Bangley arrived in a state of calmanticipation. That his sister had disappeared did not seem to strike himas a matter for surprise, though he permitted himself to say that it wasa very remarkable occurrence. 

"I have always warned Constance not to be here alone, and I should neverhave forgiven myself if Brown had not been on the spot, " he said. 

"Can you offer any explanation?"

The rector shook his head. He was totally ignorant of the arrangementsof the house, had never, so he said, put foot in it in his life. Thiswas perfectly true, for he was an incurious man who did not greatlybother himself about the affairs of other people. The local policearrived in half an hour, headed by the chief inspector, who happened tobe in the station when the report was brought in. 

"I suppose I had better take this young man to the station?" he said, indicating Frank. 

"Why?" asked T. B. Calmly; "what do you gain by arresting him? As amatter of fact there is no evidence whatever which would implicate Mr. Doughton, and I am quite prepared to give you my own guarantee toproduce him whenever you may require him. 

"The best thing you can do is to get back to town, " he said kindly tothat young man; "you need a little sleep. It is not a pleasant preludeto your marriage. By the way, that is to-morrow, is it not?" he asked, suddenly. 

Frank nodded. 

"I wonder if that has anything to do with your kidnapping, " said T. B. Thoughtfully. "Is there any person who is anxious that this marriageshould not come about?"

Frank hesitated. 

"I hardly like to accuse a man, " he said, "but Poltavo----"

"Poltavo?" repeated T. B. Quickly. 

"Yes, " said Frank; "he has some views on the question of Miss Gray. "

He spoke reluctantly, for he was loath to introduce Doris' name into theargument. 

"Poltavo would have a good reason, " mused T. B. Smith. "Tell me whathappened in the car. "

Briefly Frank related the circumstances which had led up to his capture. 

"When I found myself in their hands, " he said, "I decided to play'possum for a while. The car was moving at incredible speed, rememberingyour stringent traffic regulations, "--he smiled, --"and I knew that anyattempt to escape on my part would result in serious injury to myself. They made no bones about their intentions. Before we were clear ofLondon they had pulled the blinds, and one of them had switched on theelectric lamp. They were both masked, and were, I think, foreigners. Onesat opposite to me, all through the night, a revolver on his knees, andhe did not make any disguise of his intention of employing his weapon ifI gave the slightest trouble. 

"I could not tell, because of the lowered blinds, which direction wewere taking, but presently we struck the country and they let down oneof the windows without raising the blind and I could smell the sweetscent of the fields, and knew we were miles away from London. 

"I think I must have dozed a little, for very suddenly, it seemed, daylight came, and I had the good sense in waking to make as little stiras possible. I found the man sitting opposite was also in a mild doze, and the other at my side was nodding. 

"I took a very careful survey of the situation. The car was moving veryslowly, and evidently the driver had orders to move at no particularpace through the night, in order to economize the petrol. There was aninside handle to each of the doors, and I had to make up my mind bywhich I was to make my escape. I decided upon the near side. Gatheringup my energies for one supreme effort, I suddenly leapt up, flung openthe door, and jumped out. I had enough experience of the London trafficto clear the car without stumbling. 

"I found myself upon a heath, innocent of any cover, save for a belt oftrees about half a mile ahead of me as I ran. Fortunately the down, which was apparently flat, was, in fact, of a rolling character, and intwo minutes I must have been out of sight of the car--long before theyhad brought the driver, himself half asleep probably, to anunderstanding that I had made my escape. They caught sight of me as Icame up from the hollow, and one of them must have fired at me, for Iheard the whistle of a bullet pass my head. That is all the story I haveto tell. It was rather a tame conclusion to what promised to be a mostsensational adventure. "

At the invitation of the Reverend Jeremiah he drove back to the rectory, and left T. B. To continue his search for the missing Lady Constance. Nobetter result attended the second scrutiny of the rooms than hadresulted from the first. 

"The only suggestion I can make now, " said T. B. , helplessly, "is thatwhilst our friend the coachman was reading, his lady slipped out withoutattracting his attention and strolled away; she will in all probabilitybe awaiting us at the rectory. "

Yet in his heart he knew that this view was absolutely wrong. The lockeddoors, the evidence of a struggle in the room, the bloody hand print, all pointed conclusively to foul play. 

"At any rate Lady Constance Dex is somewhere within the radius of fourmiles, " he said, grimly, "and I will find her if I have to pull down theSecret House stone by stone. "

CHAPTER XVI

The morning of Doris Gray's wedding dawned fair and bright, and she satby the window which overlooked the gardens in Brakely Square, her handsclasped across her knees, her mind in a very tangle of confusion. It washappy for her (she argued) that there were so many considerationsattached to this wedding that she had not an opportunity of thinkingout, logically and to its proper end, the consequence of this act ofhers. 

She had had a wire from Frank on the night previous, and to her surpriseit had been dated from Great Bradley. For some reason which she couldnot define she was annoyed that he could leave London, and be soabsorbed in his work on the eve of his wedding. She gathered that hispresence in that town had to do with his investigations in theTollington case. She thought that at least he might have spent one daynear her in case she wished to consult him. He took much for granted, she thought petulantly. Poltavo, on the contrary, had been mostassiduous in his attention. He had had tea with her the previousafternoon, and with singular delicacy had avoided any reference to theforthcoming marriage or to his own views on the subject. But all that hedid not speak, he looked. He conveyed the misery in which he stood withsubtle suggestion. She felt sorry for him, had no doubt of thegenuineness of his affection, or his disinterestedness. A profitable dayfor Poltavo in ordinary circumstances. 

A maid brought her from her reverie to the practical realities of life. 

"Mr. Debenham has called, miss, " said the girl. "I have shown him intothe drawing-room. "

"Mr. Debenham?" repeated Doris, with a puzzled frown. "Oh, yes, thelawyer; I will come down to him. "

She found the staid solicitor walking up and down the drawing-roomabstractedly. 

"I suppose you know that I shall be a necessary guest at your wedding, "he said, as he shook hands. "I have to deliver to you the keys of youruncle's safe at the London Safe Deposit. I have a memorandum here of theexact amount of money which should be in that safe. "

He laid the paper on the table. 

"You can look at the items at your leisure, but roughly it amounts toeight hundred thousand pounds, which was left you by your late father, who, I understand, died when you were a child. "

She nodded. 

"That sum is in gilt-edged securities, and you will probably find that anumber of dividends are due to you. The late Mr. Farrington, when hemade his arrangements for your future, chose this somewhat unusual andbizarre method of protecting your money, much against my will. I mighttell you, " he went on, "that he consulted me about six years ago on thesubject, and I strongly advised him against it. As it happened, I waswrong, for immediately afterwards, as his books show, he must havesuffered enormous losses, and although I make no suggestion against hischaracter, "--he raised his hand deprecatingly, --"yet I do say that thesituation which was created by the slump in Canadian Pacifics of whichhe was a large holder, might very easily have tempted a man not sostrong-willed as Mr. Farrington. At the present moment, " he went on, "Ihave no more to do than discharge my duty, and I have called beforehandto see you and to ask whether your uncle spoke of the great Tollingtonfortune of which he was one of the trustees, though as I believe--as Iknow, in fact--he never handled the money. "

She looked surprised. 

"It is curious that you should ask that, " she said. "Mr. Doughton isengaged in searching for the heir to that fortune. "

Debenham nodded. 

"So I understand, " he said. "I ask because I received a communicationfrom the other trustees in America, and I am afraid your futurehusband's search will be unavailing unless he can produce the heirwithin the next forty-eight hours. "

"Why is that?" she asked in surprise. 

"The terms of the will are peculiar, " said Mr. Debenham, walking up anddown as he spoke. "The Tollington fortune, as you may know----"

"I know nothing about it, " she interrupted. 

"Then I will tell you. " He smiled. "The fortune descends to the heir andto his wife in equal proportions. "

"Suppose he is not blessed with a wife?" She smiled with something likeher old gaiety. 

"In that case the money automatically goes to the woman the heireventually marries. But the terms of the will are that the heir shall bediscovered within twenty years of the date of Tollington's death. Thetime of grace expires to-morrow. "

"Poor Frank, " she said, shaking her head, "and he is working so hardwith his clues! I suppose if he does not produce that mysteriousindividual by to-morrow there will be no reward for him?"

The lawyer shook his head. 

"I should hardly think it likely, " he said, "because the reward is forthe man who complies with the conditions of the will within a stipulatedtime. It was because I knew Mr. Doughton had some interest in it, andbecause also"--he hesitated--"I thought that your uncle might have takenyou into his confidence. "

"That he might have told me who this missing person was, and that hehimself knew; and for some reason suppressed the fact?" she asked, quickly. "Is that what you suggest, Mr. Debenham?"

"Please do not be angry with me, " said the lawyer, quickly; "I do notwish to say anything against Mr. Farrington; but I know he was a veryshrewd and calculating man, and I thought possibly that he might havetaken you that much into his confidence, and that you might be able tohelp your future husband a part of the way to a very large sum ofmoney. "

She shook her head again. 

"I have absolutely no knowledge of the subject. My uncle never took meinto his confidence, " she said; "he was very uncommunicative wherebusiness was concerned--although I am sure he was fond of me. " Her eyesfilled with tears, not at the recollection of his kindness, but at thehumiliation she experienced at playing a part in which she had no heart. It made her feel inexpressibly mean and small. 

"That is all, " said Mr. Debenham. "I shall see you at the registrar'soffice. "

She nodded. 

"May I express the hope, " he said, in his heavy manner, "that your lifewill be a very happy one, and that your marriage will prove all you hopeit will be?"

"I hardly know what I hope it will be, " she said wearily, as sheaccompanied him to the door. 

That good man shook his head sadly as he made his way back to hisoffice. 

Was there ever so unromantic and prosaic affair as this marriage, thought Doris, as she stepped into the taxicab which was to convey herto the registrar's office? She had had her dreams, as other girls hadhad, of that wonderful day when with pealing of the organ she would walkup the aisle perhaps upon the arm of Gregory Farrington, to a marriagewhich would bring nothing but delight and happiness. And here was theend of her dreams, a great heiress and a beautiful girl rocking acrossLondon in a hired cab to a furtive marriage. 

Frank was waiting for her on the pavement outside the grimy littleoffice. Mr. Debenham was there, and a clerk he had brought with him aswitness. The ceremony was brief and uninteresting; she became Mrs. Doughton before she quite realized what was happening. 

"There is only one thing to do now, " said the lawyer as they stoodoutside again on the sunlit pavement. 

He looked at his watch. 

"We had best go straight away to the London Safe Deposit, and, if youwill give me the authority, I will take formal possession of yourfortune and place it in the hands of my bankers. I think these thingshad better be done regularly. "

The girl acquiesced. 

Frank was singularly silent during the drive; save to make some commentupon the amount of traffic in the streets, he did not speak to her andshe was grateful for his forbearance. Her mind was in a turmoil; she wasmarried--that was all she knew--married to somebody she liked but didnot love. Married to a man who had been chosen for her partly againsther will. She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes; if she wasjoyless, no less was he. It was an inauspicious beginning to a marriedlife which would end who knew how? Before the depressing granite façadeof the London Safe Deposit the party descended, Mr. Debenham paid thecabman, and they went down the stone steps into the vaults of therepository. 

There was a brief check whilst Mr. Debenham explained his authority forthe visit, and it was when the officials were making reference to theirbooks that the party was augmented by the arrival of Poltavo. 

He bowed over the girl's hand, holding it a little longer than Frankcould have liked, murmured colourless congratulations and nodded toDebenham. 

"Count Poltavo is here, I may say, " explained the lawyer, "by your lateuncle's wishes. They were contained in a letter he wrote to me a fewdays before he disappeared. "

Frank nodded grudgingly; still he was generous enough to realizesomething of this man's feelings if he loved Doris, and he made anespecial effort to be gracious to the new-comer. 

A uniformed attendant led them through innumerable corridors till theycame to a private vault guarded by stout bars. The attendant openedthese and they walked into a little stone chamber, illuminated byoverhead lights. 

The only article of furniture in the room was a small safe which stoodin one corner. A very small safe indeed, thought Frank, to contain solarge a fortune. The lawyer turned the key in the lock methodically, andthe steel door swung back. The back of Mr. Debenham obscured their viewof the safe's interior. Then he turned with an expression of wonder. 

"There is nothing here, " he said. 

"Nothing!" gasped Doris. 

"Save this, " said the lawyer. 

He took a small envelope and handed it to the girl. She opened itmechanically and read:

"I have, unfortunately, found it necessary to utilize your fortune forthe furtherance of my plans. You must try and forgive me for this; but Ihave given you a greater one than you have lost, a husband. "

She looked up. 

"What does this mean?" she whispered. 

Frank took the letter from her hand and concluded the reading. 

"A husband in Frank Doughton.... "

The words swam before his eyes. 

"And Frank Doughton is the heir to the Tollington millions, as hisfather was before him. All the necessary proofs to establish hisidentity will be discovered in the sealed envelope which the lawyerholds, and which is inscribed 'C. '"

The letter was signed "Gregory Farrington. "

The lawyer was the first to recover his self-possession; his practicalmind went straight to the business at hand. 

"There is such an envelope in my office, " he said, "given to me by Mr. Farrington with strict instructions that it was not to be handed to hisexecutors or to any person until definite instructionsarrived--instructions which would be accompanied by unmistakable proofas to the necessity for its being handed over. I congratulate you, Mr. Doughton. "

He turned and shook hands with the bewildered Frank, who had beenlistening like a man in a dream; the heir to the Tollington millions;he, the son of George Doughton, and all the time he had been lookingfor--what? For his own grandmother!

It came on him all of a rush. He knew now that all his efforts, all hissearch might have been saved, if he had only realized the Christian nameof his father's mother. 

He had only the dimmest recollection of the placid-faced lady who haddied whilst he was at school; he had never associated in his mind thisserene old lady, who had passed away only a few hours before herbeloved husband, with the Annie for whom he had searched. It made himgasp--then he came to earth quickly as he realized that his success hadcome with the knowledge of his wife's financial ruin. He looked at heras she stood there--it was too vast a shock for her to realize at once. 

He put his arm about her shoulder, and Poltavo, twirling his littlemoustache, looked at the two through his lowered lids with an ugly smileplaying at the corner of his mouth. 

"It is all right, dear, " said Frank soothingly; "your money issecure--it was only a temporary use he made of it. "

"It is not that, " she said, with a catch in her throat; "it is thefeeling that my uncle trapped you into this marriage. I did not mind hisdissipating my own fortune; the money is nothing to me. But he hascaught you by a trick, and he has used me as a bait. " She covered herface with her hands. 

In a few moments she had composed herself; she spoke no other word, butsuffered herself to be led out of the building into the waiting cab. Poltavo watched them drive off with that fierce little smile of his, andturned to the lawyer. 

"A clever man, Mr. Farrington, " he said, in a bitter tone of reluctantadmiration. 

The lawyer looked at him steadily. 

"His Majesty's prisons are filled with men who specialize in that kindof cleverness, " he said, drily, and left Poltavo without another word. 

CHAPTER XVII

T. B. Smith was playing a round of golf at Walton Heath, when the newswas telephoned through to him. 

He left immediately for town, and picked up Ela at luncheon at the FritzHotel, where the detective had his headquarters. 

"The whole thing is perfectly clear, now, " he said. "The inexplicabledisappearance of Mr. Farrington is explained in poster type, 'that hewho runs may read. '"

"I am a little hazy about the solution myself, " said Ela dubiously. 

"Then I will put it in plain language for you, " said T. B. As he speareda sardine from the _hors d'oeuvre_ dish. "Farrington knew all alongthat the heir to the Tollington millions was George Doughton. He knew ityears and years ago, and it was for that reason he settled at GreatBradley, where the Doughtons had their home. Evidently the two olderDoughtons were dead at this time, and only George Doughton, the romanticand altogether unpractical explorer, represented the family. 

"George was in love with the lady who is now known as Lady ConstanceDex, and knowing this, Farrington evidently took every step that waspossible to ingratiate himself into her good graces. He knew that thefortune would descend equally to Doughton and to his wife. Doughton wasa widower and had a son, a youngster at the time, and it is verypossible that, the boy being at school, and being very rarely in GreatBradley, Farrington had no idea of his existence. 

"The knowledge that this boy was alive must have changed all his plans;at any rate, the engagement was allowed to drift on, whilst he maturedsome scheme whereby he could obtain a large portion of the Tollingtonmillions for his own use. Again I think his plans must have beenchanged. 

"It was whilst he was at Great Bradley that he was entrusted with theguardianship of Doris Gray, and as his affection for the young girlgrew--an affection which I think was one of the few wholesome things inhis life--he must have seen the extraordinary chance which fate hadplaced in his way. 

"With diabolical ingenuity and with a remorselessness which isreminiscent of the Borgias he planned first George Doughton's death, and then the bringing together of Doughton's son and his own ward. Thereis every proof of this to be found in his subsequent actions. He wasprepared to introduce the young people to one another, and by affordingthem opportunities for meeting, and such encouragement as he could give, to bring about the result he so desired. 

"But things did not move fast enough for him, and then he must havelearnt, as the other trustees seem to have learnt recently, that therewas an undiscovered time limit. He threw out hints to his niece, hintswhich were received rather coldly. He had taken the bold step ofemploying Frank Doughton to discover--himself! That was a move which hada twofold purpose. It kept the young man in contact with him. It alsosatisfied the other trustees, who had entrusted to Farrington the taskof employing the necessary measures to discover the missing heir. 

"But neither hint nor suggestion served him. The girl's fortune was duefor delivery to her care, and his guardianship expired almost at thesame time as the time limit for discovery of the Tollington millionairecame to an end. He had to take a desperate step; there were otherreasons, of course, contributing to his move. 

"The knowledge that he was suspected by me, the certainty that LadyConstance Dex would betray him, once she discovered that he had sent herlover to his death, all these were contributing factors, but the mainreason for his disappearance was the will that was read after his bogusdeath. 

"In that will he conveyed unchallengeable instructions for the girl tomarry Frank Doughton without delay. I suspect that the girl now knows heis alive. Probably, panic-stricken by her tardiness, he has disclosedhis hand so far as the alleged death is concerned. "

T. B. Looked out of the window on to the stream of life which wasflowing east and west along Piccadilly; his face was set in a littlefrown of doubt and anxiety. 

"I can take Farrington to-morrow if I want to, " he said after a moment, "but I wish to gather up every string of organization in my hands. "

"What of Lady Constance Dex?" asked Ela. "Whilst we are waiting, she isin some little danger. "

T. B. Shook his head. 

"If she is not dead now, " he said simply, "she will be spared. IfFarrington wished to kill her--for Farrington it was who spirited heraway--he could have done so in the house; no one would have been any thewiser as to the murderer. Lady Constance must wait; we must trust toluck before I inspect that underground chamber of which I imagine she isat present an unwilling inmate. I want to crush this blackmailingforce, " he said, thumping the table with energy; "I want to sweep out ofEngland the whole organization which is working right under the nose ofthe police and in defiance of all laws; and until I have done that, Ishall not sleep soundly in my bed. "

"And Poltavo?"

"Poltavo, " smiled T. B. , "can wait for just a little while. "

He paid the bill and the two men passed out of the hotel and crossedPiccadilly. A man who had been lounging along apparently studying theshop windows saw them out of the corner of his eye and followed themcarelessly. Another man, no less ostentatiously reading a newspaper, ashe walked along the pavement on the opposite side of the thoroughfare, followed close behind. 

T. B. And his companion turned into Burlington Arcade and reached CorkStreet. Save for one or two pedestrians the street was utterly deserted, and the first of the shadowers quickened his pace. He put his hand inhis tail pocket and took out something which glinted in the Aprilsunlight, but before he could raise his hand the fourth man, now on hisheels, dropped his newspaper, and flinging one arm around the shadower'sneck, and placing his knee in the small of the other's back, wrenchedthe pistol away with his disengaged hand. 

T. B. Turned at the sound of the struggle and came back to assist theshadowing detective. The prisoner was a little man, sharp-featured, andobviously a member of one of the great Latin branches of the human race. A tiny black moustache, fierce scowling eyebrows, and liquid brown eyesnow blazing with hate, spoke of a Southern origin. 

Deftly the three police officers searched and disarmed him; a pair ofadjustable handcuffs snapped upon the man's thin wrists, and before theinevitable crowd could gather the prisoner and his custodians were beingwhirled to Vine Street in a cab. 

They placed the man in the steel dock and asked him the usual questions, but he maintained a dogged silence. That his object had beenassassination no one could doubt, for in addition to the automaticpistol, which he had obviously intended using at short range, trustingto luck to make his escape, they found a long stiletto in his breastpocket. 

More to the point, and of greater interest to T. B. , there was athree-line scrawl on a piece of paper in Italian, which, translated, showed that minute instructions had been given to the would-be murdereras to T. B. 's whereabouts. 

"Put him in a cell, " said T. B. "I think we are going to find thingsout. If this is not one of Poltavo's hired thugs, I am greatlymistaken. "

Whatever he was, the man offered no information which might assist thedetective in his search for the truth, but maintained an unbrokensilence, and T. B. Gave up the task of questioning him in sheer despair. 

The next morning at daybreak the prisoner was aroused and told to dress. He was taken out to where a motor car was awaiting him, and a fewmoments later he was speeding on the way to Dover. Two detectiveofficers placed him on a steamer and accompanied him to Calais. AtCalais they took a courteous leave of him, handing him a hundred francsand the information in his own tongue that he had been deported on anorder from the Home Secretary, obtained at midnight the previous night. 

The prisoner took his departure with some eagerness and spent thegreater portion of his hundred francs in addressing a telegram toPoltavo. 

T. B. Smith, who knew that telegram would come, was sitting in theContinental instrument room of the General Post Office when it arrived. He was handed a copy of the telegram and read it. Then he smiled. 

"Thank you, " he said, as he passed it back to the Superintendent of thedepartment, "this may now be transmitted for delivery. I know all I wantto know. "

Poltavo received the message an hour later, and having read it, cursedhis subordinate's indiscretion, for the message was in Italian, plainfor everybody to read who understood that language, and its purport easyto understand for anybody who had a knowledge of the facts. 

He waited all that day for a visit from the police, and when T. B. Arrived in the evening Poltavo was ready with an excuse and anexplanation. But neither excuse nor explanation was asked for. T. B. 'squestions had to do with something quite different, namely the new Mrs. Doughton and her vanished fortune. 

"I was in the confidence of Mr. Farrington, " said Poltavo, relieved tofind the visit had nothing to do with that which he most dreaded, "but Iwas amazed to discover that the safe was empty. It was a tremendoustragedy for the poor young lady. She is in Paris now with her husband, "he added. 

T. B. Nodded. 

"Perhaps you will give me their address?" he asked. 

"With pleasure, " said Count Poltavo, reaching for his address book. 

"I may be going to Paris myself to-morrow, " T. B. Went on, "and I willlook these young people up. I suppose it is not the correct thing forany one to call upon honeymoon couples, but a police officer hasprivileges. "

There was an exchange of smiles. Poltavo was almost exhilarated that T. B. 's visit had nothing to do with him personally. A respect, whichamounted almost to fear, characterized his attitude toward the greatScotland Yard detective. He credited T. B. With qualities which perhapsthat admirable man did not possess, but, as a set-off against this, hefailed to credit him with a wiliness which was peculiarly T. B. 's chiefasset. For who could imagine that the detective's chief object incalling upon Poltavo that evening was to allay his suspicions and soothedown his fears. Yet T. B. Came for no other reason and with no otherpurpose. It was absolutely necessary that Poltavo should be taken offhis guard, for T. B. Was planning the coup which was to end for all timethe terror under which hundreds of innocent people in England werelying. 

After an exchange of commonplace civilities the two men parted, --T. B. , as he said, with his hand on the door, to prepare for his Paris trip, and Poltavo to take up what promised to be one of the most interestingcases that the Fallock blackmailers had ever handled. 

He waited until he heard the door close after the detective; until hehad watched him, from the window, step into his cab and be whirled away, then he unlocked the lower drawer of his desk, touched a spring in thefalse bottom, and took from a secret recess a small bundle of letters. 

Many of the sheets of notepaper which he spread out on the table beforehim bore the strawberry crest of his grace the Duke of Ambury. Theletters were all in the same sprawling handwriting; ill-spelt andblotted, but they were very much to the point. The Duke of Ambury, inhis exuberant youth, had contracted a marriage with a lady in Gibraltar. His regiment had been stationed at that fortress when his succession tothe dukedom had been a very remote possibility, and the Spanish lady towhom, as the letters showed, he had plighted his troth, and to whom hewas eventually married in the name of Wilson (a copy of the marriagecertificate was in the drawer), had been a typical Spaniard of singularbeauty and fascination, though of no distinguished birth. 

Apparently his grace had regretted his hasty alliance, for two yearsafter his succession to the title, he had married the third daughter ofthe Earl of Westchester without--so far as the evidence in Poltavo'spossession showed--having gone through the formality of releasinghimself from his previous union. 

Here was a magnificent coup, the most splendid that had ever come intothe vision of the blackmailers, for the Duke of Ambury was one of therichest men in England, a landlord who owned half London and had estatesin almost every county. If ever there was a victim who was in a positionto be handsomely bled, here was one. 

The Spanish wife was now dead, but an heir had been born to the Duke ofAmbury before the death, and the whole question of succession wasaffected by the threatened disclosure. All the facts of the case were inPoltavo's possession; they were written in this curiously uneducatedhand which filled the pages of the letters now spread upon the table infront of him. The marriage certificate had been supplied, and a copy ofthe death certificate had also been obligingly extracted by a peccantservant, and matters were now so far advanced that Poltavo had received, through the Agony column of the _Times_, a reply to the demand he hadsent to his victim. 

That reply had been very favourable; there had been no suggestion oflawyers; no hint of any intervention on the part of the police. Amburywas willing to be bled, willing indeed, so the agony advertisementindicated to Poltavo, to make any financial sacrifice in order to savethe honour of his house. 

It was only a question of terms now. Poltavo had decided upon fiftythousand pounds. That sum would be sufficient to enable him to clear outof England and to enjoy life as he best loved it, without the necessityfor taking any further risks. With Doris Gray removed from his hands, with the approval of society already palling upon him, he thirsted fornew fields and new adventures. The fifty thousand seemed now within hisgrasp. He should, by his agreement with Farrington, hand two-thirds ofthat sum to his employer, but even the possibility of his doing thisnever for one moment occurred to him. 

Farrington, so he told himself, a man in hiding, powerless and inPoltavo's hands practically, could not strike back at him; the cardswere all in favour of the Count. He had already received some tenthousand pounds as a result of his work in London, and he had franticand ominous letters from Dr. Fall demanding that the "house" shareshould be forwarded without delay. These demands Poltavo had treatedwith contempt. He felt master of the situation, inasmuch that he hadplaced the major portion of the balance of money in hand, other thanthat which had been actually supplied by Farrington, to his own creditin a Paris bank. He was prepared for all eventualities, and here he waspromised the choicest of all his pickings--for the bleeding of the Dukeof Ambury would set a seal upon previous accomplishments. 

He rang a bell, and a man came, letting himself into the room with akey. He was an Italian with a peculiarly repulsive face; one of thesmall fry whom Poltavo had employed from time to time to do such work aswas beneath his own dignity, or which promised an unnecessary measure ofdanger in its performance. 

"Carlos, " said Poltavo, speaking in Italian, "Antonio has been arrested, and has been taken to Calais by the police. "

"That I know, signor, " nodded the man. "He is very fortunate. I wasafraid when the news came that he would be put into prison. "

Poltavo smiled. 

"The ways of the English police are beyond understanding, " he saidlightly. "Here was our Antonio, anxious and willing to kill the head ofthe detective department, and they release him! Is it not madness? Atany rate, Antonio will not be coming back, because though they are mad, the police are not so foolish as to allow him to land again. I havetelegraphed to our friend to go on to Paris and await me, and here letme say, Carlos, "--he tapped the table with the end of hispenholder, --"that if you by ill-fortune should ever find yourself in thesame position of our admirable and worthy Antonio, I beg that you willnot send me telegrams. "

"You may be assured, excellent signor, " said the man with a little grin, "that I shall not send you telegrams, for I cannot write. "

"A splendid deficiency, " said Poltavo. 

He took up a letter from the table. 

"You will deliver this to a person who will meet you at the corner ofBranson Square. The exact position I have already indicated to you. "

The man nodded. 

"This person will give you in exchange another letter. You will notreturn to me but you will go to your brother's house in Great SaffronStreet, and outside that house you will see a man standing who wears along overcoat. You will brush past him, and in doing so you will dropthis envelope into his pocket--you understand?"

"Excellency, I quite understand, " said the man. 

"Go, and God be with you, " said the pious Poltavo, sending forth amessage which he believed would bring consternation and terror into thebosom of the Duke of Ambury. 

It was late that night when Carlos Freggetti came down a steep declivityinto Great Saffron Street and walked swiftly along that desertedthoroughfare till he came to his brother's house. His brother was arespectable Italian artisan, engaged by an asphalt company in London. Near the narrow door of the tenement in which his relative lived, astranger stood, apparently awaiting some one. Carlos, in passing him, stumbled and apologized under his breath. At that moment he slipped theletter into the other's pocket. His quick eyes noted the identity of thestranger. It was Poltavo. No one else was in the street, and in the dimlight even the keenest of eyes would not have seen the transfer of theenvelope. Poltavo strolled to the end of the thoroughfare, jumped intothe taxicab which was waiting and reached his house after varioustransferences of cabs without encountering any of T. B. 's watchfulagents. In his room he opened the letter with an anxious air. WouldAmbury agree to the exorbitant sum he had demanded? And if he did notagree, what sum would he be prepared to pay as the price of theblackmailer's silence? The first words brought relief to him. 

"I am willing to pay the sum you ask, although I think you are guilty ofa dastardly crime, " read the letter, "and since you seem to suspect mybonafides, I shall choose, as an agent to carry the money to you, an oldlabourer on my Lancashire estate who will be quite ignorant of thebusiness in hand, and who will give you the money in exchange for themarriage certificate. If you will choose a rendezvous where you canmeet, a rendezvous which fulfills all your requirements as to privacy, Iwill undertake to have my man on the spot at the time you wish. "

There was a triumphant smile on Poltavo's face as he folded the letter. 

"Now, " he said half aloud, "now, my friend Farrington, you and I willpart company. You have ceased to be of any service to me; your value hasdecreased in the same proportion as my desire for freedom has advanced. Fifty thousand pounds!" he repeated admiringly. "Ernesto, you have ahappy time before you. All the continent of Europe is at your feet, andthis sad England is behind you. Congratulations, _amigo_!"

The question of the rendezvous was an important one. Though he readinto the letter an eagerness on the part of his victim to do anything toavoid the scandal and the exposure which Poltavo threatened, yet he didnot trust him. The old farm labourer was a good idea, but where couldthey meet? When Poltavo had kidnapped Frank Doughton he had intendedtaking him to a little house he had hired in the East End of London. Thejourney to the Secret House was a mere blind to throw suspicion uponFarrington and to put the police off the real track. The car would havereturned to London, and under the influence of a drug he had intended tosmuggle Frank into the small house at West Ham, where he was to bedetained until the period which Farrington had stipulated had expired. 

But the transfer of money in the house was a different matter. The placecould be surrounded by police. No, it must be an open space; such aspace as would enable Poltavo to command a clear view on every side. 

Why not Great Bradley, he thought, after a while? Again he would beserving two purposes. He would be leading the police to the SecretHouse, and he would have the mansion of mystery and all its resources asa refuge in case anything went wrong at the last moment. He could, inthe worst extremity, explain that he was collecting the money on behalfof Farrington. 

Yes, Great Bradley and the wild stretch of down on the south of the townwas the place. He made his arrangements accordingly. 

CHAPTER XVIII

It was three days after the exchange of letters that Count Poltavo, inthe rough tweeds of a country gentleman--a garb which hardly suited hisfigure or presence--strolled carelessly across the downs, making his wayto their highest point, a great rolling slope, from the crest of which aman could see half a dozen miles in every direction. 

The sky was overcast and a chill wind blew; it was such a day upon whichhe might be certain no pleasure-seekers would be abroad. To his left, half hidden in the furthermost shelter of the downs, veiled as it wasfor ever under a haze of blue grey smoke, lay Great Bradley, with itschimneys and its busy industrial life. To his right he caught a glimpseof the square ugly façade of the Secret House, half hidden by theencircling trees. To its right was a chimney stack from which a lazyfeather of smoke was drifting. Behind him the old engine house of thedeserted mines, and to the right of that the pretty little cottage fromwhich a week before Lady Constance Dex had so mysteriously disappeared, and which in consequence had been an object of pilgrimage for the wholecountryside. 

But Lady Constance Dex's disappearance had become a nine days' wonder. There were many explanations offered for her unexpected absence. Thepolice of the country were hunting systematically and leisurely, andonly T. B. And those in his immediate confidence were satisfied that themissing woman was less than two miles away from the scene of herdisappearance. 

Count Poltavo had armed himself with a pair of field-glasses, and now hecarefully scrutinized all the roads which led to the downs. A motor-car, absurdly diminutive from the distance, came spinning along the windingwhite road two miles away. He watched it as it mounted the one hill anddescended the other, and kept his glasses on it until it vanished in acloud of dust on the London road. Then he saw what he sought. Comingacross the downs a mile away was the bent figure of a man who stoppednow and again to look about, as though uncertain as to the direction heshould take. Poltavo, lying flat upon the ground, his glasses fixed uponthe man, waited, watching the slow progress with lazy interest. 

He saw an old man, white-bearded and grey-haired, carrying his hat inhis hand as he walked. His rough homespun clothing, his collarless shirtopen at the throat, the plaid scarf around his neck, all these Poltavosaw through his powerful glasses and was satisfied. 

This was not the kind of man to play tricks, he smiled to himself. Poltavo's precautions had been of an elaborate nature. Three roads ledto the downs, and in positions at equal distances from where he stood hehad placed three cars. He was ready for all emergencies. If he had tofly, then whichever way of escape was necessary would bring him to ameans of placing a distance between himself and any possible pursuer. 

The old man came nearer. Poltavo made a hasty but narrow survey of themessenger. 

"Good, " he said. 

He walked to meet the old man. 

"You have a letter for me?" he inquired. 

The other glanced at him suspiciously. 

"Name?" he asked gruffly. 

"My name, " said the smiling Pole, "is Poltavo. "

Slowly the messenger groped in his pockets and produced a heavy package. "You've got to give me something, " he said. 

Poltavo handed over a sealed packet, receiving in exchange themessenger's. 

Again Poltavo shot a smiling glance at this sturdy old man. Save for thebeard and the grey hair which showed beneath the broad-brimmed, wide-awake hat, this might have been a young man. 

"This is an historic meeting, " Poltavo went on gaily. His heart waslight and his spirits as buoyant as ever they had been in his life. Allthe prospects which this envelope, now bulging in his pocket, promised, rose vividly before his eyes. 

"Tell me your name, my old friend, that I may carry it with me, and onsome occasion which is not yet, that I may toast your health. "

"My name, " said the old man, "is T. B. Smith, and I shall take you intocustody on a charge of attempting to extort money by blackmail. "

Poltavo sprang back, his face ashen. One hand dived for hispistol-pocket, but before he could reach it T. B. Was at his throat. That moment the Pole felt two arms gripping him, two steel bands theyseemed, and likely to crush his arms into his very body. Then he wentover with the full weight of the detective upon him, and was momentarilystunned by the shock. He came to himself rapidly, but not quicklyenough. He was conscious of something cold about his wrists, and a nonetoo kindly hand dragged him to his feet. T. B. With his white beard allawry was a comical figure, but Poltavo had no sense of humour at thatmoment. 

"I think I have you at last, my friend, " said T. B. Pleasantly. He wasbusy removing his disguise and wiping his face clean of the greasepaint, which had been necessary, with a handkerchief which was alreadygrimy with his exertions. 

"You will have some difficulty in proving anything against me, " said theother defiantly; "there is only you and I, and my word is as good asyours. As to the Duke of Ambury----"

T. B. Laughed, a long chuckling laugh of delight. 

"My poor man, " he said pityingly, "there is no Duke of Ambury. Idepended somewhat upon your ignorance of English nobility, but I confessthat I did not think you would fall so quickly to the bait. The Dukedomof Ambury ceased to exist two hundred years ago. It is one of thosetitles which have fallen into disuse. Ambury Castle, from which theletters were addressed to you, is a small suburban villa on theoutskirts of Bolton, the rent of which, " he said carefully, "is, Ibelieve, some forty pounds a year. We English have a greater imaginationthan you credit us with, Count, " he went on, "and imagination takes nomore common flight than the namings of the small dwellings of ourhumble fellow-citizens. "

He took his prisoner by the arm and led him across the downs. 

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Poltavo. 

"I shall first of all take you to Great Bradley police station, and thenI shall convey you to London, " said T. B. "I have three warrants foryou, including an extradition warrant issued on behalf of the RussianGovernment, but I think they may have to wait a little while before theyobtain any satisfaction for your past misdeeds. "

The direction they took led them to Moor Cottage. In a quarter of anhour a force of police would be on the spot, for T. B. Had timed hisarrangements almost to the minute. He opened the door of the cottage andpushed his prisoner inside. 

"We will avoid the study, " he smiled; "you probably know our mutualfriend Lady Constance Dex disappeared under somewhat extraordinarycircumstances from that room, and since I have every wish to keep you, we will take the drawing-room as a temporary prison. "

He opened the door of the little room in which the piano was, andindicated to his captive to sit in one of the deep-seated chairs. 

"Now, my friend, " said T. B. , "we have a chance of mutualunderstanding. I do not wish to disguise from you the fact that you areliable to a very heavy sentence. That you are only an agent I am aware, but in this particular case you were acting entirely on your ownaccount. You have made elaborate and thorough preparations for leavingEngland. "

Poltavo smiled. 

"That is true, " he said, frankly. 

T. B. Nodded. 

"I have seen your trunks all beautifully new, and imposingly labelled, "he smiled, "and I have searched them. "

Poltavo sat, his elbows on his knees, reflectively smoothing hismoustache with his manacled hands. 

"Is there any way I can get out of this?" he asked, after a while. 

"You can make things much easier for yourself, " replied T. B. Quietly. 

"In what way?"

"By telling me all you know about Farrington and giving me anyinformation you can about the Secret House. Where, for instance, is LadyConstance Dex?"

The other shrugged his shoulders. 

"She is alive, I can tell you that. I had a letter from Fall in which hehinted as much. I do not know how they captured her, or thecircumstances of the case. All I can tell you is that she is perfectlywell and being looked after. You see Farrington had to take her--sheshot at him once--hastened his disappearance in fact, and there wasevidence that she was planning further reprisals. As to the mysteries ofthe Secret House, " he said, frankly, "I know little or nothing. Farrington, of course, is----"

"Montague Fallock, " said T. B. Quietly. "I know that also. "

"Then what else do you want to know?" asked the other, in surprise. "Iam perfectly willing, if you can make it easy for me, to tell youeverything. The man who is known as Moole is a half-witted old farmlabourer who was picked up by Farrington some years ago to serve hispurpose. He is the man who unknowingly poses as a millionaire. It is hisestate which Farrington is supposed to be administering. You see, " heexplained, "this rather takes off the suspicion which naturally attachesto a house which nobody visits, and it gives the inmates a certainamount of protection. "

"That I understand, " said T. B. ; "it is, as you say, an ingeniousidea--what of Fall?"

Poltavo shrugged his shoulders. 

"You know as much of him as I. There are, however, many things whichyou may not know, " he went on slowly, "and of these there is one whichyou would pay a high price to learn. You will never take Farrington. "

"May I ask why?" asked T. B. Interestedly. 

"That is my secret, " said the other; "that is the secret I am willing tosell you. "

"And the price?" asked T. B. After a pause. 

"The price is my freedom, " said the other boldly. "I know you can doanything with the police. As yet, no charge has been made against me. Atthe most, it is merely a question of attempting to obtain money by atrick--and even so you will have some difficulty in proving that I amguilty. Yes, I know you will deny this, but I have some knowledge of thelaw, Mr. Smith, and I have also some small experience of English juries. It is not the English law that I am afraid of, and it is not thesentence which your judges will pass upon me which fills me withapprehension. I am afraid of my treatment at the hands of the RussianGovernment. "

He shivered a little. 

"It is because I wish to avoid extradition that I make this offer. Putthings right for me, and I will place in your hands, not only the secretof Farrington's scheme for escape, but also the full list of his agentsthrough the country. You will find them in no books, " he said with asmile; "my stay in the Secret House was mainly occupied from morningtill night in memorizing those names and those addresses. "

T. B. Looked at him thoughtfully. 

"There is something in what you say, " he said. "I must have a moment toconsider your offer. "

He heard a noise from the road without and pulled aside the blind. A carhad driven up and was discharging a little knot of plain clothesScotland Yard men. Amongst them he recognized Ela. 

"I shall take the liberty of locking you in this room for a few momentswhilst I consult my friends, " said T. B. 

He went out, turned the key in the lock and put it in his pocket. Outside he met Ela. 

"Have you got him?" asked the detective. 

T. B. Nodded. 

"I have taken him, " he said; "moreover, I rather fancy I have got thewhole outfit in my hands. "

"The Secret House?" asked Ela eagerly. 

"Everything, " said T. B. ; "it all depends upon what we can do withPoltavo. If we can avoid bringing him before a magistrate, I can smashthis organization. I know it is contrary to the law, but it is in theinterests of the law. How many men have we available?"

"There are a hundred and fifty in the town of Great Bradley itself, "said Ela calmly; "half of them local constabulary, and half of them ourown men. "

"Send a man down to order them to take up a position round the SecretHouse, allow nobody to leave it, stop all motor-cars approaching ordeparting from the house, and above all things no car is to leave GreatBradley without its occupants being carefully scrutinized. What's that?"he turned suddenly. 

A sudden muffled scream had broken into the conversation and it had comefrom the inside of the cottage. 

"Quick!" snapped T. B. 

He sprang into the passage of the cottage, reached the door of the roomwhere he had left his prisoner, slipped the key in the lock with anunerring hand and flung open the door. 

The room was empty. 

CHAPTER XIX

Farrington and Dr. Fall were closeted together in the latter's office. Something had happened, which was responsible for the gloom on the faceof the usually imperturbable doctor, and for the red rage which gloweredin the older man's eyes. 

"You are sure of this?" he asked. 

"Quite sure, " said Dr. Fall briefly; "he is making every preparation toleave London. His trunks went away from Charing Cross last night forParis. He has let his house and collected the rent in advance, and hehas practically sold the furniture. There can be no question whateverthat our friend has betrayed us. "

"He would not dare, " breathed Farrington. 

The veins stood out on his forehead; he was controlling his passionatetemper by a supreme effort. 

"I saved this man from beggary, Fall; I took the dog out of the gutter, and I gave him a chance when he had already forfeited his life. He wouldnot dare!"

"My experience of criminals of this character, " said Dr. Fall calmly, "is that they will dare anything. You see, he is a particularlyobnoxious specimen of his race; all suaveness, treachery, andremorseless energy. He would betray you; he would betray his ownbrother. Did he not shoot his father--or his alleged father, some yearsago? I asked you not to trust him, Farrington; if I had had my way, hewould never have left this house. "

Farrington shook his head. 

"It was for the girl's sake I let him go. Yes, yes, " he went on, seeingthe look of surprise in the other's face, "it was necessary that Ishould have somebody who stood in fear of me, who would further my plansin that direction. The marriage was necessary. "

"You have been, if you will pardon my expressing the opinion, " said Dr. Fall moodily, "just a little bit sentimental, Farrington. "

The other turned on him with an oath. 

"I want none of your opinions, " he said gruffly. "You will neverunderstand how I feel about this child. I took her from her deadfather, who was one of my best friends, and I confess, that in the earlydays the thought of exploiting her fortune did occur to me. But as theyears passed she grew towards me--a new and a beautiful influence inlife, Fall. It was something that I had never had before, a factor whichhad never occurred in my stormy career. I grew to love the child, tolove her more than I love money, and that is saying a lot. I wanted todo the right thing for her, and when my speculations were going wrongand I had to borrow from her fortune I never had any doubt but what Ishould be able to pay it back. When all the money went, "--his voice sankuntil it was little more than a whisper, --"and I realized that I hadruined the one human being in the world whom I loved, I took the stepwhich of all my crimes I have most regretted. I sent George Doughton outof the way in order that I might scheme to marry Doris to the Tollingtonmillionaire. For I knew the man we were seeking was Doughton. I killedhim, " he said defiantly, "for the sake of his son's wife. Oh, the ironyof it!" He raised his hand with a harsh laugh. "The comedy of it! As toPoltavo, " he went on more calmly, "I let him go because, as I say, Iwanted him to further my object. That he failed, or that he was remiss, does not affect the argument. Doris is safely married, " he mused; "ifshe does not love her husband now, she will love him in time. Sherespects Frank Doughton, and every day that passes will solidify thatrespect. I know Doris, and I know something of her secret thoughts andher secret wishes. She will forget me, "--his voice shook, --"please Godshe will forget me. "

He changed the subject quickly. 

"Have you heard from Poltavo this morning?"

"Nothing at all, " said Fall; "he has been communicating with somebody orother, and the usual letters have been passing. Our man says that he hasa big coup on, but upon that Poltavo has not informed us. "

"If I thought he was going to play us false----"

"What would you do?" asked Fall quietly. "He is out of our hands now. "

There was a little buzz in one corner of the room, and Fall turned hisstartled gaze upon the other. 

"From the signal tower, " he said. "I wonder what is wrong. "

High above the house was one square solitary tower, in which, day andnight, a watcher was stationed. Fall went to the telephone and took downthe receiver. He spoke a few words and listened, then he hung up thereceiver again and turned to Farrington. 

"Poltavo is in Great Bradley, " he said; "one of our men has seen him andsignalled to the house. "

"In Great Bradley!" Farrington's eyes narrowed. "What is he doing here?"

"What was his car doing here the other day, " asked Fall, "when hekidnapped Frank Doughton? It was here to throw suspicion on us and takesuspicion off himself, the most obvious thing in the world. "

Again the buzzer sounded, and again Fall carried on a conversation withthe man on the roof in a low tone. 

"Poltavo is on the downs, " he said; "he has evidently come to meetsomebody; the look-out says he can see him from the tower through hisglasses, and that there is a man making his way towards him. "

"Let us see for ourselves, " said Farrington. 

They passed out of the room into another, opened what appeared to be acupboard door, but which was in reality one of the innumerable elevatorswith which the house was furnished, and for the working of which thegreat electrical plant was so necessary. 

They stepped into the lift, and in a few seconds had reached theinterior of the tower, with its glass-paned observation windows and itstelescopes. One of the foreign workmen, whom Farrington employed, wascarefully scrutinizing the distant downs through a telescope which stoodupon a large tripod. 

"There he is, " he said. 

Farrington looked. There was no mistaking Poltavo, but who the other manwas, an old man doubled with age, his white beard floating in the wind, Farrington could not say; he could only conjecture. 

Dr. Fall, searching the downs with another telescope, was equally in thedark. 

"This is the intermediary, " said Farrington at last. 

They watched the meeting, saw the exchange of the letters, andFarrington uttered a curse. Then suddenly he saw the other leap uponPoltavo and witnessed the brief struggle on the ground. Saw the glitterof handcuffs and turned with a white face to the doctor. 

"My God!" he whispered. "Trapped!"

For the space of a few seconds they looked one at the other. 

"Will he betray us?" asked Farrington, voicing the unspoken thoughts ofFall. 

"He will betray us as much as he can, " said the other. "We must watchand see what happens. If he takes him into town, we are lost. "

"Is there any sign of police?" asked Farrington. 

They scanned the horizon, but there was no evidence of a lurking force, and they turned to watch T. B. Smith and his prisoner making their slowway across the downs. For five minutes they stood watching, then Falluttered an exclamation. 

"They are going to the cottage!" he said, and again the men's eyes met. 

"Impossible, " said Farrington, but there was a little glint in his eyewhich spoke of the hope behind the word. 

Again an interval of silence. Three pairs of eyes followed the men. 

"It is the cottage!" said Fall. "Quick!"

In an instant the two men were in the lift and shooting downwards; theydid not stop till they reached the basement. 

"You have a pistol?" asked Farrington. 

Fall nodded. They quitted the lift and walked swiftly along a vaultedcorridor, lighted at intervals with lamps set in niches. On their waythey passed a door made in the solid wall to their left. 

"We must get her out of this, if necessary, " said Farrington in a lowvoice. "She is not giving any trouble?"

Dr. Fall shook his head. 

"A most tactful prisoner, " he said, dryly. 

At the end of the corridor was another door. Fall fitted a key and swungopen the heavy iron portal and the two men passed through to a darkenedchamber. Fall found the switch and illuminated the apartment. It was alittle room innocent of windows, and lit as all the rest of the basementwas by cornice lamps. In one corner was a grey-painted iron door. ThisFall pushed aside on its noiseless runners. There was another elevatorhere. The two men stepped in and the lift sunk and sunk until it seemedas though it would never come to the end. It stopped at last, and themen stepped out into a rock-hewn gallery. 

It was easy to see that this was one of the old disused galleries of theold mine over which the house was built. Fall found the switch he soughtand instantly the corridor was flooded with bright light. 

On a set of rails which ran the whole length of the gallery to a pointwhich was out of sight from where they stood, was a small trolley. Itwas unlike the average trolley in that it was obviously electricallydriven. A third rail supplied the energy, and the controlling leverswere at the driver's hand. 

Farrington climbed to the seat, and his companion followed, and with awhirr of wheels and a splutter of sparks where the motor brush caughtthe rail, the little trolley drove forward at full speed. 

They slowed at the gentle curves, increased speed again when anyuninterrupted length of gallery gave them encouragement, and after fiveminutes' travel Farrington pulled back the lever and applied the brake. They stepped out into a huge chamber similar to that which they had justleft. There was the inevitable lift set, as it seemed, in the heart ofthe rock, though in reality it was a bricked space. The two men enteredand the lift rose noiselessly. 

"We will go up slowly, " whispered Fall in the other's ear; "it will notdo to make a noise or to arouse any suspicions; we must not forget thatwe have T. B. Smith to deal with. "

Farrington nodded, and presently the lift stopped of its own accord. They made no attempt to open whatever door was before them. They couldhear voices: one was T. B. 's, and the other was unmistakably Poltavo's, and Poltavo was speaking. 

Poltavo was offering in his eager way to betray the men who sat in thedarkness listening to his treachery. They heard the motor-car's arrivaloutside, and presently T. B. 's voice announcing his temporaryretirement. They heard the slam of the door, and the key click in thelock, and then Dr. Fall stepped forward, pressed a spring in the roughwoodwork in front of him and one of the panels of the room slid silentlyback. 

Poltavo did not see his visitors until they stood over him, then he readin those hateful faces which were turned toward him an unmistakableforecast of his doom. 

"What do you want?" he almost whispered. 

"Do not raise your voice, " said Farrington in the same tone, "or you area dead man. " He held the point of a knife at the other's throat. 

"To where are you taking me?" asked Poltavo, ghastly white of face andshaking from head to foot. 

"We are taking you to a place where your opportunity for betraying uswill be a mighty small one, " said Fall. 

There was a horrible smile on his thin lips, and Poltavo, with apremonition of what awaited him beyond the tunnel, forgot the menacingknife at his throat and screamed. 

Hands gripped him and strangled the cry as it escaped him. Somethingheavy struck him behind the ear and he lost consciousness. He awoke tofind himself travelling smoothly along the rock gallery. He was halflying, half reclining on Fall's knees. He did not attempt to move; heknew now that he was in mortal peril of his life. No word was spokenwhen he was dragged roughly from the car, placed in another elevator andwhirled upwards, emerging into a little chamber at the end of theunderground corridor which ran beneath the Secret House. 

A door was opened and he was thrust in without a word. He heard theclang of the steel door behind him, and the lights came on to show himthat once again he was in the underground room where he had beenconfined before. 

There was the table, there was the heavy chair, there in the far cornerof the room was the barred entrance to the other elevator. Anyway he wasfree from the police; that was something. He was safe just so long as itsuited the book of Farrington and his friend to keep him safe. Whatwould they do? What excuse could he offer? They had overheard theconversation between himself and T. B. , he knew that, and cursed hisfolly. He ought to have kept away from Moor Cottage. He knew there wassomething sinister about the place, but T. B. Should have known thateven better than he. Why had T. B. Left him?

These and a thousand other thoughts shot through his mind as he pacedthe vaulted apartment. They were in no hurry to feed him. He had almostforgotten what time it was; whether it was day or night in thatunderground vault into which no ray of sunlight ever penetrated. Theyhad left him with the handcuffs on his wrists; they would come andrelieve him of these encumbrances. What were their plans with him? Hefelt his pockets carefully. T. B. Had taken away the only weapon he hadhad, and for the first time for many years Count Poltavo was unarmed. 

His heart was beating with painful rapidity and his breath camelaboriously. He was terror-stricken. He turned to find the door throughwhich he had come, and to his surprise he could not see it. So far as hecould detect, the stone wall ran without a break from one end of theapartment to the other. Escape could not lie that way; of that he wassatisfied. There was nothing to do but to wait, with whatever patiencehe could summon, to discover their plans. He did not doubt that he wasto suffer. He had forfeited all right to their confidence, but if thiswas to be the only consequence of his ill-doing he was not greatlyworried. Count Poltavo, as he had boasted before in this identical room, had been in some tight corners and had faced death in many strange andterrible guises, but the inevitability of doom was never so impressedupon his mind as it was at this moment when he lay guarded by a hundredsecret forces in the tomb of the Secret House. 

He had one hope, a faint one, that T. B. Would discover the method ofhis exit from the room in Moor Cottage and would track him here. 

Evidently the occupants of the Secret House had the same fear, for evenhere, in the quietness of his underground prison, Poltavo could hearstrange whining noises, rumbling, and groaning and grinding, as thoughthe whole of the house were changing its construction. 

He had not long to wait for news. A corner lift came swiftly down andFall stepped briskly towards his prisoner. 

"T. B. Smith is in the house, " he said, "and is making an inspection; hewill be down here in a moment. In these circumstances I shall have tobetray one of the secrets of this house. " He caught the other roughly bythe arm and half led, half dragged, him to a corner of the room. Handcuffed as he was, Poltavo could offer no resistance. Dr. Fallapparently only touched one portion of the wall, but he must have moved, either with his foot or with his hand, some particularly powerfulspring, for a section of the stone wall swung backwards revealing ablack gap. 

"Get in there, " said Fall, and pushed him into the darkness. 

A few moments later T. B. Smith, accompanied by three detectives, inspected the room which Poltavo had left. There was no sign of the man, no evidence of his having so recently been an occupant of his prisonhouse. For an interminable time Poltavo stood in the darkness. He foundhe was in a small cell-like apartment with apparently no outlet savethat through which he had come. 

He was able to breathe without difficulty, for the perfect system ofventilation throughout the dungeons of the Secret House had been itsarchitect's greatest triumph. 

It seemed hours that he waited there, though in reality it was less thantwenty minutes after his entrance that the door swung open again and hewas called out. 

Farrington was in the room now, Farrington with his trusty lieutenant, and behind them the one-eyed Italian desperado whom Poltavo rememberedseeing in the power house one day, when he had been allowed theprivilege of inspection. 

Some slight change had been made in the room since he was there last. Poltavo's nerves were in such a condition that he was sensitive to thisvariation. He saw now what the change was. The table had been drawn backleaving the chair where it was fixed. 

Yes, it was a fixed chair, he remembered that and wondered why it hadbeen screwed to the wood block floor. Dr. Fall and the engineer graspedhim roughly and hurried him across the room, thrusting him into thechair. 

"What are you going to do?" asked Poltavo, white as death. 

"That you shall see. "

Deftly they strapped him to the chair; his wrists and elbows weresecurely fastened to the arms, and his ankles to the legs of the massivepiece of furniture. 

From where he sat Poltavo confronted Farrington, but the big man'smask-like face did not move, nor his eyes waver as he surveyed histreacherous prisoner. Then Fall knelt down and did something, andPoltavo heard the ripping and tearing of cloth. 

They were slitting up each trouser leg, and he could not understand why. 

"Is this a joke?" he asked with a desperate attempt at airiness. 

No reply was made. Poltavo watched his captors curiously. What was theobject of it all? The two men busy at the chair lifted a number ofcurious-looking objects from the floor; they clamped one on each wrist, and he felt the cold surface of some instrument pressing against eachcalf. Still he did not realize the danger, or the grim determination ofthese men whose secret he would have betrayed. 

"Mr. Farrington, " he appealed to the big man, "let us have anunderstanding. I have played my game and lost. "

"You have indeed, " said Farrington. 

They were the first words he had spoken. 

"Give me enough to get out of the country, " Poltavo appealed, "just themoney that I have in my pocket, and I promise you that I will nevertrouble you again. "

"My friend, " said Farrington, "I have trusted you too long. You forcedyourself upon me when I did not desire you, you thwarted me at everyturn, you betrayed me whenever it was possible to betray me, or wheneverit was to your advantage to do so, and I am determined that you shallhave no other chance of doing me an injury. "

"What is this foolery?" asked Poltavo, in a mixture of blind fear andrage. They had unlocked the handcuffs and taken them off him, and nowfor the first time Poltavo noticed that the curious bronze clamps on hiswrists were attached by thick green cords to a plug in the wall. 

He shrieked aloud as he saw this, and the full horror of the situationflashed upon him. 

"My God, " he screamed, "you are not going to kill me?"

Farrington nodded slowly. 

"We are going to kill you painlessly, Poltavo, " he said. "It was yourlife or ours. We do not desire to cause you unnecessary suffering, buthere is the end of the adventure for you, my friend. "

"You are not going to electrocute me?" croaked the man in the chair, ina hoarse cracked voice. "Don't say that you are going to electrocute me, Farrington! It is diabolical, it is terrible. Give me a chance of life!Give me a pistol, give me a knife, but fight me fair. Treat me as youwill; hand me to the police, anything but this; for God's sake, Farrington, don't do this!"

The doctor reached down and lifted a leather helmet from the floor andplaced it gently over the doomed man's head. 

"Don't do it, Farrington. " Poltavo's muffled voice came painfully frombehind the leather screen. "Don't! I swear I will not betray you. "

Farrington made a little signal and the doctor walked to the wall andplaced his hand upon a black switch. 

"I will not betray you, " said the man in the chair in hollow tones. "Give me a chance. I will not tell them anything that you----"

He did not speak again, for the black switch had been pressed down anddeath came with merciful swiftness. 

They stood watching the figure. A slight quivering of the hands and thenFarrington nodded and the doctor turned the switch over again. 

Rapidly they unfastened the straps, and the limp thing which was oncehuman, with a brain to think and a capacity for life and love, slippedout of the chair in an inanimate heap upon the ground. 

So passed Ernesto Poltavo, an adventurer and a villain, in the prime ofhis life. 

Farrington looked down upon the body with sombre eyes and shrugged hisshoulders. 

He had opened his mouth to speak and Fall had walked to the switchboardand was about to put the deadly apparatus out of gear, when a sharpvoice made them both turn. 

"Hands up!" it said. 

The stone door, through which Poltavo had passed to his doom from thecorridor without, was wide open, and in the doorway stood T. B. And alittle behind him Ela, and in T. B. 's hand was a pistol. 

CHAPTER XX

T. B. Smith's inspection of the Secret House had yielded nothingsatisfactory; he had not expected that it would; he was perfectlysatisfied that the keen, shrewd brains which dominated the menage wouldremove any trace there was of foul play. 

"Where now?" asked Ela, as they turned out of the house. 

"Back to Moor Cottage, " said T. B. , climbing into the car. "I am certainthat we are on the verge of our big discovery. There is a way out of thecottage by some underground chamber, a way by which first Lady Constanceand then Poltavo were smuggled, and if it is necessary I am going tosmash every panel in those two ground floor rooms, but I will find theway in to Mr. Farrington's mystery house. "

For half an hour the two men were engaged in the room from whichPoltavo had been taken. They probed with centre bits and gimlets intoevery portion of the room. 

The first discovery that they made was that the oaken panels of thechamber were backed with sheet iron or steel. 

"It is a hopeless job; we shall have to get another kind of smith hereto tear down all the panellings, " said T. B. , lighting the gloom of hisdespair with a little flash of humour. 

He fingered the tiny locket absently and opened it again. 

"It is absurd, " he laughed helplessly. "Here is the solution in thesesimple words, and yet we brainy folk from the Yard cannot understandthem!"

"God sav the Keng!" said Ela ruefully. "I wonder how on earth that isgoing to help us. "

A gasp from T. B. Made him turn his face to his chief. 

T. B. Smith was pointing at the piano. In two strides he was across theroom, and sitting on the stool he lifted the cover and struck a chord. The instrument sounded a little flat and apparently had not received theattention of a tuner for some time. 

"I am going to play 'God save the King, '" said T. B. With a light inhis eyes, "and I think something is going to happen. "

Slowly he pounded forth the familiar tune; from beginning to end heplayed it, and when he had finished he looked at Ela. 

"Try it in another key, " suggested Ela, and again T. B. Played theanthem. He was nearing the last few bars when there was a click and heleapt up. One long panel had disappeared from the side of the wall. Fora moment the two men looked at one another. They were alone in thehouse, although a policeman was within call. The main force was gatheredin the vicinity of the Secret House. 

T. B. Flashed the light of his indispensable and inseparable littleelectric lamp into the dark interior. 

"I will go in first and see what happens, " he said. 

"I think we will both go together, " said Ela grimly. 

"There is a switch here, " said T. B. 

He pulled it down and a small lamp glowed, illuminating a tiny liftcage. 

"And here I presume are the necessary controlling buttons, " said T. B. , pointing to a number of white discs; "we will try this one. "

He pressed the button and instantly the cage began to fall. It came toa standstill after a while and the men stepped out. 

"Part of the old working, " said T. B. ; "a very ingenious idea. "

He flashed his lamp over the walls to find the electrical connection. They were here, as they were at the other end, perfectly accessible. Aninstant later the long corridor was lighted up. 

"By heavens, " said T. B. Admiringly, "they have even got an undergroundtramway; look here!"

At this tiny terminus there were two branches of rails and a car was inwaiting. A few minutes later T. B. Smith had reached the other end ofthe mine gallery and was seeking the second elevator. 

"Here we are, " he said--"everything run by electricity. I thought thatpower house of Farrington's had a pretty stiff job, and now I see howheavy is the load which it has to carry. Step carefully into this, " hecontinued, "and make a careful note of the way we are going. I think wemust be about a hundred feet below the level of the earth; just gauge itroughly as we go up. Here we go. "

He pressed a button and up went the lift. They passed out of the littlemine chamber, carefully propping back the swing door, and made theirway along the corridor. 

"This looks like an apartment, " said T. B. , as he stopped before ared-painted steel door in one of the walls. He pressed it gently, but itdid not yield. He made a further examination, but there was no keyholevisible. 

"This is either worked by a hidden spring or it does not work at all, "he said in a low voice. 

"If it is a spring, " said Ela, "I will find it. "

His sensitive hands went up and down the surface of the door andpresently they stopped. 

"There is something which is little larger than a pin hole, " he said. Hetook from his pocket a general utility knife and slipped out a thinsteel needle. "Pipe cleaners may be very useful, " he said, and pressedthe long slender bodkin into the aperture. Instantly, and without sound, the door opened. 

T. B. Was the first to go in, revolver in hand. He found himself in aroom which, even if it were a prison, was a well-disguised prison. Thewalls were hung with costly tapestry, the carpet under foot was thickand velvety and the furniture which garnished the room was of a mostcostly and luxurious description. 

"Lady Constance!" gasped T. B. In surprise. 

A woman who was sitting in a chair near the reading lamp rose quicklyand turned her startled gaze to the detective. 

"Mr. Smith, " she said, and ran towards him. "Oh, thank God you havecome!"

She grasped him by his two arms; she was half hysterical in that momentof her release, and was babbling an incoherent string of words; adescription of her capture--her fear--her gratitude--all in aninextricably confused rush of half completed phrases. 

"Sit down, Lady Constance, " said T. B. Gently; "collect yourself and tryto remember--have you seen Poltavo?"

"Poltavo?" she said, startled into coherence. "No, is he here?"

"He is somewhere here, " said T. B. "I am seeking for him now. Will youstay here or will you come with us?"

"I would rather come with you, " she said with a shiver. 

They passed through the door together. 

"Do all these doors open upon rooms similar to this?" asked T. B. 

"I believe there are a number of underground cells, " she answered in awhisper, "but the principal one is that which is near. " She pointed toa red-painted door some twenty paces away from the one from which theywere emerging. There was another pause whilst Ela repeated hisexamination of the door. 

Apparently they all worked on the pick system, a method which medievalconspirators favoured, and which the Italian workmen probably importedfrom the land of their birth; a land which has given the world theBorgias and the Medicis and the Visconti. 

"Stay here, " said T. B. In a low voice, and Lady Constance shrank backagainst the wall. 

Ela pressed in his little needle and again the result was satisfactory. The door opened slowly and T. B. Stepped in. 

He stood for a moment trying to understand all that the terrible scenesignified. The limp body on the floor; the two remorseless men standingclose by; Farrington with folded arms and his eye glowering down uponthe dead man at his feet. Fall at the switchboard. 

Then T. B. 's revolver rose swiftly. 

"Hands up!" he said. 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the room was plunged indarkness, his companion was flung violently backward as the electricalcontrol came into operation and the door slammed in Ela's face. Hepressed it without avail. He brought to his aid the little needle, butthis time the lock would not move. 

Ela's face went chalk white. 

"My God!" he gasped, "they've got T. B. !"

He stood for a moment in indecision. He had visualized the scene andknew what fate would befall his chief. 

"Back to the gallery, " he said harshly, and led the way, holding thewoman's arm in support. He found his way without difficulty to the lift, sprang into it, after Lady Constance, and pressed the button.... Nowthey were speeding along the sparking rail ... Now they were in the liftrising swiftly to the room in Moor Cottage. T. B. 's car was outside. 

"You had better come with me, " said Ela quickly. 

Lady Constance jumped into the car after him. 

"To the Secret House, " said Ela to the chauffeur, and as the car droveforward he turned to the woman at his side. 

"I will put you amongst your friends in a few moments, " he said; "atpresent I dare not risk the loss of a second. "

"But what will they do?"

"I pretty well know what they will do, " said Ela grimly. "Farrington isplaying his last hand, and T. B. Smith is to be his last victim. "

In the darkness of the underground chamber T. B. Faced his enemies, striving to pierce the gloom, his finger in position upon the delicatetrigger of his automatic pistol. 

"Do not move, " he said softly; "I will shoot without any hesitation. "

"There is no need to shoot, " said the suave voice of the doctor; "thelights went out, quite by accident, I assure you, and you and yourfriends have no need to fear. "

T. B. Groped his way along the wall, his revolver extended. In the gloomhe felt rather than saw the bulky figure of the doctor and reached outhis hand gingerly. 

Then something touched the outstretched palm, something that in ordinarycircumstances might have felt like the rough points of a bass broom. T. B. Was flung violently backwards and fell heavily to the ground. 

"Get him into the chair quick, " he heard Farrington's voice say. "Thatwas a good idea of yours, doctor. "

"Just a sprayed wire, " said Dr. Fall complacently; "it is a prettyuseful check upon a man. You took a wonderful assistant when you pressedelectricity to your aid, Farrington. "

The lights were all on now, and T. B. Was being strapped to the chair. He had recovered from the shock, but he had recovered too late. In theinterval of his unconsciousness the body of Poltavo had been removed outof his sight. They were doing to him all that they had done to Poltavo. He felt the electrodes at his calf and on his wrists and clenched histeeth, for he knew in what desperate strait he was. 

"Well, Mr. Smith, " said Farrington pleasantly, "I am afraid you have gotyourself into rather a mess. Where is the other man?" he asked quickly. He looked at Fall, and the doctor returned his gaze. 

"I forgot the other man, " said Fall slowly; "in the corridor outside. "He went to the invisible door and it opened at his touch. He was out ofthe room a few minutes, and returned looking old and drawn. 

"He has got away, " he said; "the woman has gone too. "

Farrington nodded. 

"What does he matter?" he asked roughly; "they know as much as they arelikely to know. Put the control on the door. "

Fall turned over a switch and the other renewed his attention to T. B. 

"You know exactly how you are situated, Mr. Smith, " said Farrington, "and now I am going to tell you exactly how you may escape from yourposition. "

"I shall be interested to learn, " said T. B. Coolly, "but I warn youbefore you tell me that if my escape is contingent upon your own, then Iam afraid I am doomed to dissolution. "

The other nodded. 

"As you surmise, " he said, "your escape is indeed contingent upon mineand that of my friends. My terms to you are that you shall pass me outof England. I know you are going to tell me that you have not the power, but I am as well acquainted with the extraordinary privileges of yourdepartment as you are. I know that you can take me out of the SecretHouse and land me in Calais to-morrow morning, and there is not one manthroughout the length and breadth of England who will say you nay. Ioffer you your life on condition that you do this, otherwise----"

"Otherwise?" asked T. B. 

"Otherwise I shall kill you, " said Farrington briefly, "just as I killedPoltavo. You are the worst enemy I have and the most dangerous. I havealways marked you down as one whose attention was to be avoided, and Ishall probably kill you with less compunction because I know that butfor you I should not have been forced to live this mad dog's life thathas been mine for the past few months. You will be interested, Mr. Smith, to learn that you nearly had me once. You see the whole wing ofthe house in which Mr. Moole lies, " he smiled, "works on the principleof a huge elevator. The secret of the Secret House is really the secretof perfectly arranged lifts; that is to say, " he went on, "I can take myroom to the first floor and I can transport it to the fourth floor withgreater ease than you can carry a chair from a basement to an attic. "

"I guessed that much, " said T. B. "Do you realize that you might havemade a fortune as a practical electrician?"

Farrington smiled. 

"I very much doubt it, " he said coolly; "but my career and my wastedopportunities are of less interest to me at the moment than my futureand yours. What are you going to do?"

T. B. Smiled. 

"I am going to do nothing, " he said cheerfully, "unless it be that I amgoing to die, for I can imagine no circumstance or danger thatthreatens me or those I love best which would induce me to loose uponthe world such dangerous criminals as yourself and yourfellow-murderers. Your time has come, Farrington. Whether my time comesa little sooner or later does not alter the fact that you are within amonth of your own death, whether you kill me or whether you let me go. "

"You are a bold man to tell me that, " said Farrington between his teeth. 

T. B. Saw from a glance at the blanched faces of the men that his wordshad struck home. 

"If you imagine you can escape, " T. B. Went on unconcernedly, "why, Ithink you are wasting valuable time which might be better utilized, forevery moment of delay is a moment nearer to the gallows for both ofyou. "

"My friend, you are urging your own death, " said Fall. 

"As to that, " said T. B. , shrugging his shoulders, "I have no means offoretelling, because I cannot look into the future any more than you, and if it is the will of Providence that I should die in the executionof my duty, I am as content to do so as any soldier upon thebattle-field, for it seems to me, " he continued half to himself, "thatthe arrayed enemies of society are more terrible, more formidable, andmore dangerous than the massed enemies that a soldier is called upon toconfront. They are only enemies for a period; for a time of madnesswhich is called 'war'; but you in your lives are enemies to society forall time. "

Fall exchanged glances with his superior, and Farrington nodded. 

The doctor leant down and picked up the leather helmet, and placed itwith the same tender care that he had displayed before over the head ofhis previous victim. 

"I give you three minutes to decide, " said Farrington. 

"You are wasting three minutes, " said the muffled voice of T. B. Fromunder the helmet. 

Nevertheless Farrington took out his watch and held it in his unshakingpalm; for the space of a hundred and eighty seconds there was no soundin the room save the loud ticking of the watch. 

At the end of that time he replaced it in his pocket. 

"Will you agree to do as I ask?" he said. 

"No, " was the reply with undiminished vigour. 

"Let him have it, " said Farrington savagely. 

Dr. Fall put up his hand to the switch, and as he did so the lightsflickered for a moment and slowly their brilliancy diminished. 

"Quick, " said Farrington, and the doctor brought the switch over justas the lights went out. 

T. B. Felt a sharp burning sensation that thrilled his whole being andthen lost consciousness. 

CHAPTER XXI

There was a group of police officers about the gates of the Secret Houseas the car bearing Ela and the woman came flying up. 

The detective leapt out. 

"They have taken T. B. , " he said. He addressed a divisional inspector, who was in charge of the corps. 

"Close up the cordon, " he went on, "and all men who are armed followme. "

He raced up the garden path, but it was not toward the Secret House thathe directed his steps; he made a detour through a little plantation tothe power house. 

A man stood at the door, a grimy-faced foreign workman who scowled atthe intruders. He tried to pull the sliding doors to their place, butEla caught the blue-coated man under the jaw and sent him sprawling intothe interior. 

In an instant the detective was inside, confronting more scowlingworkmen. A tall, good-looking man of middle age, evidently a decentartisan, was in control, and he came forward, a spanner in his hand, torepel the intruders. 

But the pistol Ela carried was eloquent of his earnestness. 

"Stand back, " he said. "Are you in charge?"

The detective spoke Italian fluently. 

"What does this mean, signor?" asked the foreman. 

"It means that I give you three minutes to stop the dynamo. "

"But that is impossible, " said the other. "I cannot stop the dynamo; itis against all orders. "

"Stop that dynamo, " hissed Ela between his teeth. "Stop it at once, oryou are a dead man. "

The man hesitated, then walked to the great switchboard, brilliant witha score of lights. 

"I will not do it, " he said sulkily. "There is the signal; give ityourself. "

A little red lamp suddenly glowed on the marble switchboard. 

"What is that?" asked Ela. 

"That is a signal from the lower rooms, " said the man sullenly; "theywant more power. "

Ela turned on the man with a snarl, raised his pistol and there wasmurder in his eyes. 

"Mercy!" gasped the Italian, and putting out his hand he grasped a longred switch marked 'Danger' and pulled it over. Instantly all the lightsin the power house went dim, and the great whirling wheels slowed downand stopped. Only the light of day illuminated the power house. Ela, standing on the controlling platform, wiped his perspiring face with theback of a hand which was shaking as though with ague. 

"I wonder if I was in time?" he muttered. 

The big machinery hall was now alive with detectives. 

"Take charge of every man, " Ela ordered; "see that nobody touches any ofthese switches. Arrest stokers and keep them apart. Now you, " he said, addressing the foreman in Italian, "you seem a decent fellow, and I amgoing to give you a chance of earning not only your freedom, but asubstantial reward. I am a police officer and I have come to make aninspection of this house. You spoke of the lower rooms--do you know theway there?"

The man hesitated. 

"The lift cannot work, signor, " he said, with a shrug of his shoulders, "now that the electric current is stopped. "

"Is there no other way?"

Again the man hesitated. 

"There are stairs, signor, " he stammered after a while, then continuedrapidly: "If this is a crime and Signor Moole is an anarchist, I knownothing of it, I swear to you by the Virgin. I am an honest man fromPadua, and I have no knowledge of such things as your Excellency speaksabout. "

Ela nodded. 

"I am willing to believe that, " he said in a milder tone. "Now, myfriend, you shall undo a great deal of mischief that has been done byshowing me the way to the underground rooms. "

"I am at your service, " said the man helplessly. "I call all men towitness that I have done my best to carry out the instructions which thepadrone has given me. "

He led the way out of the power house through a door which led to alarge stretch of private garden behind the main building, across awell-kept lawn to an area basement which ran the whole length of thehouse. 

In this, at the far end, was a door, and the man opened it with a keyupon a bunch which he took from his pocket. They had to pass through twomore doors before they came to the spiral staircase which led down intothe gloomy depths beneath the Secret House. 

To Ela's surprise they were illuminated and he feared that against hisorders the dynamo had been restarted, but the man reassured him. 

"They are from the storage batteries, " he said. "There is sufficient toafford light all over the house, but not enough to give power. "

The steps seemed never ending. Ela counted eighty-seven before at lastthey came to a landing from which one door opened. The detective noticedthat the man employed the same method of entering here as he himself haddone. A bodkin slipped into an almost invisible hole produced themechanical unsealing of this doorway. 

Ela stepped through the open door. Two lights burned dimly; he saw thestrapped figure in the chair and his heart sank. He went forward at arun and Farrington was the first to hear him. 

The big man turned, a revolver in his hand. There was a quick deafeningreport, and another, and a third. Ela stood up unmoved, unharmed, butFarrington, rocking as he staggered to the table, slid to the groundwith a bullet through his heart. 

"Take that man, " said Ela, and in an instant Fall was handcuffed andsecure. 

Then Ela heard a silent sneeze and through the smoke from the revolvershots the voice of T. B. Smith, saying: "A pity it takes suchill-smelling powder to send our clever friend on his long journey. "