THE AGONY COLUMN

by Earl Derr Biggers

CHAPTER I

London that historic summer was almost unbearably hot. It seems, lookingback, as though the big baking city in those days was meant to serve asan anteroom of torture--an inadequate bit of preparation for thehell that was soon to break in the guise of the Great War. About thesoda-water bar in the drug store near the Hotel Cecil many Americantourists found solace in the sirups and creams of home. Through theopen windows of the Piccadilly tea shops you might catch glimpses ofthe English consuming quarts of hot tea in order to become cool. It is aparadox they swear by. 

About nine o'clock on the morning of Friday, July twenty-fourth, in thatmemorable year nineteen hundred and fourteen, Geoffrey West left hisapartments in Adelphi Terrace and set out for breakfast at the Carlton. He had found the breakfast room of that dignified hotel the coolestin London, and through some miracle, for the season had passed, strawberries might still be had there. As he took his way through thecrowded Strand, surrounded on all sides by honest British faces wetwith honest British perspiration he thought longingly of his rooms inWashington Square, New York. For West, despite the English sound of thatGeoffrey, was as American as Kansas, his native state, and only pressingbusiness was at that moment holding him in England, far from the countrythat glowed unusually rosy because of its remoteness. 

At the Carlton news stand West bought two morning papers--the Timesfor study and the Mail for entertainment and then passed on into therestaurant. His waiter--a tall soldierly Prussian, more blond than Westhimself--saw him coming and, with a nod and a mechanical German smile, set out for the plate of strawberries which he knew would be the firstthing desired by the American. West seated himself at his usual tableand, spreading out the Daily Mail, sought his favorite column. The firstitem in that column brought a delighted smile to his face:

"The one who calls me Dearest is not genuine or they would write to me. "

Any one at all familiar with English journalism will recognize at oncewhat department it was that appealed most to West. During his threeweeks in London he had been following, with the keenest joy, the dailygrist of Personal Notices in the Mail. This string of intimatemessages, popularly known as the Agony Column, has long been an honoredinstitution in the English press. In the days of Sherlock Holmes itwas in the Times that it flourished, and many a criminal was trackedto earth after he had inserted some alluring mysterious message in it. Later the Telegraph gave it room; but, with the advent of halfpennyjournalism, the simple souls moved en masse to the Mail. 

Tragedy and comedy mingle in the Agony Column. Erring ones are urged toreturn for forgiveness; unwelcome suitors are warned that "Father haswarrant prepared; fly, Dearest One!" Loves that would shame by theirardor Abelard and Heloise are frankly published--at ten cents aword--for all the town to smile at. The gentleman in the brown derbystates with fervor that the blonde governess who got off the tram atShepherd's Bush has quite won his heart. Will she permit his addresses?Answer; this department. For three weeks West had found this sort ofthing delicious reading. Best of all, he could detect in these messagesnothing that was not open and innocent. At their worst they were merelyan effort to side-step old Lady Convention; this inclination was sorare in the British, he felt it should be encouraged. Besides, he wasinordinately fond of mystery and romance, and these engaging twinshovered always about that column. 

So, while waiting for his strawberries, he smiled over the ungrammaticaloutburst of the young lady who had come to doubt the genuineness of himwho called her Dearest. He passed on to the second item of the morning. Spoke one whose heart had been completely conquered:

MY LADY sleeps. She of raven tresses. Corner seat from Victoria, Wednesday night. Carried program. Gentleman answering inquiry desiresacquaintance. Reply here. --LE ROI. 

West made a mental note to watch for the reply of raven tresses. Thenext message proved to be one of Aye's lyrics--now almost a dailyfeature of the column:

DEAREST: Tender loving wishes to my dear one. Only to be with you nowand always. None "fairer in my eyes. " Your name is music to me. Ilove you more than life itself, my own beautiful darling, my proudsweetheart, my joy, my all! Jealous of everybody. Kiss your dear handsfor me. Love you only. Thine ever. --AYE. 

Which, reflected West, was generous of Aye--at ten cents a word--and instriking contrast to the penurious lover who wrote, farther along in thecolumn:

 --loveu dearly; wantocu; longing; missu--

But those extremely personal notices ran not alone to love. Mystery, too, was present, especially in the aquatic utterance:

DEFIANT MERMAID: Not mine. Alligators bitingu now. 'Tis well; delighted. --FIRST FISH. 

And the rather sanguinary suggestion:

DE Box: First round; tooth gone. Finale. You will FORGET ME NOT. 

At this point West's strawberries arrived and even the Agony Columncould not hold his interest. When the last red berry was eaten he turnedback to read:

WATERLOO: Wed. 11:53 train. Lady who left in taxi and waved, care toknow gent, gray coat? --SINCERE. 

Also the more dignified request put forward in:

GREAT CENTRAL: Gentleman who saw lady in bonnet 9 Monday morning inGreat Central Hotel lift would greatly value opportunity of obtainingintroduction. 

This exhausted the joys of the Agony Column for the day, and West, likethe solid citizen he really was, took up the Times to discover whatmight be the morning's news. A great deal of space was given to theappointment of a new principal for Dulwich College. The affairs of theheart, in which that charming creature, Gabrielle Ray, was at the momentinvolved, likewise claimed attention. And in a quite unimportant corner, in a most unimportant manner, it was related that Austria had sent anultimatum to Serbia. West had read part way through this stupid littlepiece of news, when suddenly the Thunderer and all its works became anuninteresting blur. 

A girl stood just inside the door of the Carlton breakfast room. 

Yes; he should have pondered that despatch from Vienna. But such a girl!It adds nothing at all to say that her hair was a dull sort of gold; hereyes violet. Many girls have been similarly blessed. It was her manner;the sweet way she looked with those violet eyes through a battalion ofhead waiters and resplendent managers; her air of being at home herein the Carlton or anywhere else that fate might drop her down. Unquestionably she came from oversea--from the States. 

She stepped forward into the restaurant. And now slipped also intoview, as part of the background for her, a middle-aged man, who wore theconventional black of the statesman. He, too, bore the American labelunmistakably. Nearer and nearer to West she drew, and he saw that in herhand she carried a copy of the Daily Mail. 

West's waiter was a master of the art of suggesting that no table in theroom was worth sitting at save that at which he held ready a chair. Thushe lured the girl and her companion to repose not five feet from whereWest sat. This accomplished, he whipped out his order book, and stoodwith pencil poised, like a reporter in an American play. 

"The strawberries are delicious, " he said in honeyed tones. 

The man looked at the girl, a question in his eyes. 

"Not for me, dad, " she said. "I hate them! Grapefruit, please. "

As the waiter hurried past, West hailed him. He spoke in loud defianttones. 

"Another plate of the strawberries!" he commanded. "They are better thanever to-day. "

For a second, as though he were part of the scenery, those violet eyesmet his with a casual impersonal glance. Then their owner slowly spreadout her own copy of the Mail. 

"What's the news?" asked the statesman, drinking deep from his glass ofwater. 

"Don't ask me, " the girl answered, without looking up. "I've foundsomething more entertaining than news. Do you know--the English papersrun humorous columns! Only they aren't called that. They're calledPersonal Notices. And such notices!" She leaned across the table. "Listen to this: 'Dearest: Tender loving wishes to my dear one. Only tobe with you now and always. None "fairer in my eyes. "--

The man looked uncomfortably about him. "Hush!" he pleaded. "It doesn'tsound very nice to me. "

"Nice!" cried the girl. "Oh, but it is--quite nice. And so deliciouslyopen and aboveboard. 'Your name is music to me. I love you more--'"

"What do we see to-day?" put in her father hastily. 

"We're going down to the City and have a look at the Temple. Thackeraylived there once--and Oliver Goldsmith--"

"All right--the Temple it is. "

"Then the Tower of London. It's full of the most romantic associations. Especially the Bloody Tower, where those poor little princes weremurdered. Aren't you thrilled?"

"I am if you say so. "

"You're a dear! I promise not to tell the people back in Texas that youshowed any interest in kings and such--if you will show just a little. Otherwise I'll spread the awful news that you took off your hat whenKing George went by. "

The statesman smiled. West felt that he, who had no business to, wassmiling with him. 

The waiter returned, bringing grapefruit, and the strawberries West hadordered. Without another look toward West, the girl put down her paperand began her breakfasting. As often as he dared, however, West lookedat her. With patriotic pride he told himself: "Six months in Europe, andthe most beautiful thing I've seen comes from back home!"

When he rose reluctantly twenty minutes later his two compatriots werestill at table, discussing their plans for the day. As is usual in suchcases, the girl arranged, the man agreed. 

With one last glance in her direction, West went out on the parchedpavement of Haymarket. 

Slowly he walked back to his rooms. Work was waiting there for him;but instead of getting down to it, he sat on the balcony of his study, gazing out on the courtyard that had been his chief reason for selectingthose apartments. Here, in the heart of the city, was a bit of thecountryside transported--the green, trim, neatly tailored countrysidethat is the most satisfying thing in England. There were walls on whichthe ivy climbed high, narrow paths that ran between blooming beds offlowers, and opposite his windows a seldom-opened, most romantic gate. As he sat looking down he seemed to see there below him the girl of theCarlton. Now she sat on the rustic bench; now she bent above the enviousflowers; now she stood at the gate that opened out to a hot sudden bitof the city. 

And as he watched her there in the garden she would never enter, as hereflected unhappily that probably he would see her no more--the ideacame to him. 

At first he put it from him as absurd, impossible. She was, to apply afine word much abused, a lady; he supposedly a gentleman. Their sortdid not do such things. If he yielded to this temptation she would beshocked, angry, and from him would slip that one chance in a thousand hehad--the chance of meeting her somewhere, some day. 

And yet--and yet--She, too, had found the Agony Column entertainingand--quite nice. There was a twinkle in her eyes that bespoke a fondnessfor romance. She was human, fun-loving--and, above all, the joy of youthwas in her heart. 

Nonsense! West went inside and walked the floor. The idea waspreposterous. Still--he smiled--it was filled with amusingpossibilities. Too bad he must put it forever away and settle down tothis stupid work!

Forever away? Well--

On the next morning, which was Saturday, West did not breakfast at theCarlton. The girl, however, did. As she and her father sat down the oldman said: "I see you've got your Daily Mail. "

"Of course!" she answered. "I couldn't do without it. Grapefruit--yes. "

She began to read. Presently her cheeks flushed and she put the paperdown. 

"What is it?" asked the Texas statesman. 

"To-day, " she answered sternly, "you do the British Museum. You've putit off long enough. "

The old man sighed. Fortunately he did not ask to see the Mail. If hehad, a quarter way down the column of personal notices he would havebeen enraged--or perhaps only puzzled--to read:

CARLTON RESTAURANT: Nine A. M. Friday morning. Will the young woman whopreferred grapefruit to strawberries permit the young man who had twoplates of the latter to say he will not rest until he discovers somemutual friend, that they may meet and laugh over this column together?

Lucky for the young man who liked strawberries that his nerve had failedhim and he was not present at the Carlton that morning! He wouldhave been quite overcome to see the stern uncompromising look on thebeautiful face of a lady at her grapefruit. So overcome, in fact, thathe would probably have left the room at once, and thus not seen themischievous smile that came in time to the lady's face--not seen thatshe soon picked up the paper again and read, with that smile, to the endof the column. 

CHAPTER II

The next day was Sunday; hence it brought no Mail. Slowly it draggedalong. At a ridiculously early hour Monday morning Geoffrey West was onthe street, seeking his favorite newspaper. He found it, found the AgonyColumn--and nothing else. Tuesday morning again he rose early, stillhopeful. Then and there hope died. The lady at the Carlton deigned noreply. 

Well, he had lost, he told himself. He had staked all on this one boldthrow; no use. Probably if she thought of him at all it was to label hima cheap joker, a mountebank of the halfpenny press. Richly he deservedher scorn. 

On Wednesday he slept late. He was in no haste to look into the DailyMail; his disappointments of the previous days had been too keen. Atlast, while he was shaving, he summoned Walters, the caretaker of thebuilding, and sent him out to procure a certain morning paper. 

Walters came back bearing rich treasure, for in the Agony Column of thatday West, his face white with lather, read joyously:

STRAWBERRY MAN: Only the grapefruit lady's kind heart and her greatfondness for mystery and romance move her to answer. The strawberry-madone may write one letter a day for seven days--to prove that he is aninteresting person, worth knowing. Then--we shall see. Address: M. A. L. , care Sadie Haight, Carlton Hotel. 

All day West walked on air, but with the evening came the problem ofthose letters, on which depended, he felt, his entire future happiness. Returning from dinner, he sat down at his desk near the windows thatlooked out on his wonderful courtyard. The weather was still torrid, but with the night had come a breeze to fan the hot cheek of London. Itgently stirred his curtains; rustled the papers on his desk. 

He considered. Should he at once make known the eminently respectableperson he was, the hopelessly respectable people he knew? Hardly! Forthen, on the instant, like a bubble bursting, would go for good allmystery and romance, and the lady of the grapefruit would lose allinterest and listen to him no more. He spoke solemnly to his rustlingcurtains. 

"No, " he said. "We must have mystery and romance. But where--where shallwe find them?"

On the floor above he heard the solid tramp of military boots belongingto his neighbor, Captain Stephen Fraser-Freer, of the Twelfth Cavalry, Indian Army, home on furlough from that colony beyond the seas. It wasfrom that room overhead that romance and mystery were to come in mightystore; but Geoffrey West little suspected it at the moment. Hardlyknowing what to say, but gaining inspiration as he went along, he wrotethe first of seven letters to the lady at the Carlton. And the epistlehe dropped in the post box at midnight follows here:

DEAR LADY OF THE GRAPEFRUIT: You are very kind. Also, you are wise. Wise, because into my clumsy little Personal you read nothing that wasnot there. You knew it immediately for what it was--the timid tentativeclutch of a shy man at the skirts of Romance in passing. Believe me, old Conservatism was with me when I wrote that message. He was fightinghard. He followed me, struggling, shrieking, protesting, to the post boxitself. But I whipped him. Glory be! I did for him. 

We are young but once, I told him. After that, what use to signal toRomance? The lady at least, I said, will understand. He sneered at that. He shook his silly gray head. I will admit he had me worried. But nowyou have justified my faith in you. Thank you a million times for that!

Three weeks I have been in this huge, ungainly, indifferent city, longing for the States. Three weeks the Agony Column has been my solediversion. And then--through the doorway of the Carlton restaurant--youcame--

It is of myself that I must write, I know. I will not, then, tell youwhat is in my mind--the picture of you I carry. It would mean littleto you. Many Texan gallants, no doubt, have told you the same while themoon was bright above you and the breeze was softly whispering throughthe branches of--the branches of the--of the--

Confound it, I don't know! I have never been in Texas. It is a vice inme I hope soon to correct. All day I intended to look up Texas in theencyclopedia. But all day I have dwelt in the clouds. And there are noreference books in the clouds. 

Now I am down to earth in my quiet study. Pens, ink and paper are beforeme. I must prove myself a person worth knowing. 

From his rooms, they say, you can tell much about a man. But, alas! these peaceful rooms in Adelphi Terrace--I shall not tell thenumber--were sublet furnished. So if you could see me now you would bejudging me by the possessions left behind by one Anthony Bartholomew. There is much dust on them. Judge neither Anthony nor me by that. Judge rather Walters, the caretaker, who lives in the basement with hisgray-haired wife. Walters was a gardener once, and his whole life iswrapped up in the courtyard on which my balcony looks down. There hespends his time, while up above the dust gathers in the corners--

Does this picture distress you, my lady? You should see the courtyard!You would not blame Walters then. It is a sample of Paradise left atour door--that courtyard. As English as a hedge, as neat, as beautiful. London is a roar somewhere beyond; between our court and the great cityis a magic gate, forever closed. It was the court that led me to takethese rooms. 

And, since you are one who loves mystery, I am going to relate to youthe odd chain of circumstances that brought me here. 

For the first link in that chain we must go back to Interlaken. Haveyou been there yet? A quiet little town, lying beautiful between twoshimmering lakes, with the great Jungfrau itself for scenery. From thedining-room of one lucky hotel you may look up at dinner and watch theold-rose afterglow light the snow-capped mountain. You would not saythen of strawberries: "I hate them. " Or of anything else in all theworld. 

A month ago I was in Interlaken. One evening after dinner I strolledalong the main street, where all the hotels and shops are drawn up atattention before the lovely mountain. In front of one of the shops I sawa collection of walking sticks and, since I needed one for climbing, Ipaused to look them over. I had been at this only a moment when a youngEnglishman stepped up and also began examining the sticks. 

I had made a selection from the lot and was turning away to findthe shopkeeper, when the Englishman spoke. He was lean, distinguished-looking, though quite young, and had that well-tubbedappearance which I am convinced is the great factor that has enabled theEnglish to assert their authority over colonies like Egypt and India, where men are not so thoroughly bathed. 

"Er--if you'll pardon me, old chap, " he said. "Not that stick--if youdon't mind my saying so. It's not tough enough for mountain work. Iwould suggest--"

To say that I was astonished is putting it mildly. If you know theEnglish at all, you know it is not their habit to address strangers, even under the most pressing circumstances. Yet here was one of thathaughty race actually interfering in my selection of a stick. I endedby buying the one he preferred, and he strolled along with me in thedirection of my hotel, chatting meantime in a fashion far from British. 

We stopped at the Kursaal, where we listened to the music, had a drinkand threw away a few francs on the little horses. He came with me to theveranda of my hotel. I was surprised, when he took his leave, to findthat he regarded me in the light of an old friend. He said he would callon me the next morning. 

I made up my mind that Archibald Enwright--for that, he told me, washis name--was an adventurer down on his luck, who chose to forgethis British exclusiveness under the stern necessity of getting moneysomehow, somewhere. The next day, I decided, I should be the victim of atouch. 

But my prediction failed; Enwright seemed to have plenty of money. Onthat first evening I had mentioned to him that I expected shortly to bein London, and he often referred to the fact. As the time approachedfor me to leave Interlaken he began to throw out the suggestion that heshould like to have me meet some of his people in England. This, also, was unheard of--against all precedent. 

Nevertheless, when I said good-by to him he pressed into my hand aletter of introduction to his cousin, Captain Stephen Fraser-Freer, ofthe Twelfth Cavalry, Indian Army, who, he said, would be glad to makeme at home in London, where he was on furlough at the time--or would bewhen I reached there. 

"Stephen's a good sort, " said Enwright. "He'll be jolly pleased to showyou the ropes. Give him my best, old boy!"

Of course I took the letter. But I puzzled greatly over the affair. What could be the meaning of this sudden warm attachment that Archie hadformed for me? Why should he want to pass me along to his cousin at atime when that gentleman, back home after two years in India, wouldbe, no doubt, extremely busy? I made up my mind I would not present theletter, despite the fact that Archie had with great persistence wrungfrom me a promise to do so. I had met many English gentlemen, and Ifelt they were not the sort--despite the example of Archie--to take awandering American to their bosoms when he came with a mere letter. Byeasy stages I came on to London. Here I met a friend, just sailing forhome, who told me of some sad experiences he had had with lettersof introduction--of the cold, fishy, "My-dear-fellow-why-trouble-me-with-it?" stares that had greeted theirpresentation. Good-hearted men all, he said, but averse to strangers; anever-present trait in the English--always excepting Archie. 

So I put the letter to Captain Fraser-Freer out of my mind. I hadbusiness acquaintances here and a few English friends, and I foundthese, as always, courteous and charming. But it is to my advantage tomeet as many people as may be, and after drifting about for a week I setout one afternoon to call on my captain. I told myself that here was anEnglishman who had perhaps thawed a bit in the great oven of India. Ifnot, no harm would be done. 

It was then that I came for the first time to this house on AdelphiTerrace, for it was the address Archie had given me. Walters let me in, and I learned from him that Captain Fraser-Freer had not yet arrivedfrom India. His rooms were ready--he had kept them during his absence, as seems to be the custom over here--and he was expected soon. Perhaps--said Walters--his wife remembered the date. He left me in thelower hall while he went to ask her. 

Waiting, I strolled to the rear of the hall. And then, through an openwindow that let in the summer, I saw for the first time that courtyardwhich is my great love in London--the old ivy-covered walls of brick;the neat paths between the blooming beds; the rustic seat; the magicgate. It was incredible that just outside lay the world's biggest city, with all its poverty and wealth, its sorrows and joys, its roar andrattle. Here was a garden for Jane Austen to people with fine ladiesand courtly gentlemen--here was a garden to dream in, to adore and tocherish. 

When Walters came back to tell me that his wife was uncertain as to theexact date when the captain would return, I began to rave about thatcourtyard. At once he was my friend. I had been looking for quietlodgings away from the hotel, and I was delighted to find that on thesecond floor, directly under the captain's rooms, there was a suite tobe sublet. 

Walters gave me the address of the agents; and, after submitting to anexamination that could not have been more severe if I had asked for thehand of the senior partner's daughter, they let me come here to live. The garden was mine!

And the captain? Three days after I arrived I heard above me, for thefirst time, the tread of his military boots. Now again my courage beganto fail. I should have preferred to leave Archie's letter lying inmy desk and know my neighbor only by his tread above me. I felt thatperhaps I had been presumptuous in coming to live in the same house withhim. But I had represented myself to Walters as an acquaintance of thecaptain's and the caretaker had lost no time in telling me that "myfriend" was safely home. 

So one night, a week ago, I got up my nerve and went to the captain'srooms. I knocked. He called to me to enter and I stood in his study, facing him. He was a tall handsome man, fair-haired, mustached--thevery figure that you, my lady, in your boarding-school days, would havewished him to be. His manner, I am bound to admit, was not cordial. 

"Captain, " I began, "I am very sorry to intrude--" It wasn't the thingto say, of course, but I was fussed. "However, I happen to be a neighborof yours, and I have here a letter of introduction from your cousin, Archibald Enwright. I met him in Interlaken and we became very goodfriends. "

"Indeed!" said the captain. 

He held out his hand for the letter, as though it were evidence ata court-martial. I passed it over, wishing I hadn't come. He read itthrough. It was a long letter, considering its nature. While I waited, standing by his desk--he hadn't asked me to sit down--I looked aboutthe room. It was much like my own study, only I think a little dustier. Being on the third floor it was farther from the garden, consequentlyWalters reached there seldom. 

The captain turned back and began to read the letter again. This wasdecidedly embarrassing. Glancing down, I happened to see on his deskan odd knife, which I fancy he had brought from India. The blade wasof steel, dangerously sharp, the hilt of gold, carved to represent someheathen figure. 

Then the captain looked up from Archie's letter and his cold gaze fellfull upon me. 

"My dear fellow, " he said, "to the best of my knowledge, I have nocousin named Archibald Enwright. "

A pleasant situation, you must admit! It's bad enough when you cometo them with a letter from their mother, but here was I in thisEnglishman's rooms, boldly flaunting in his face a warm note ofcommendation from a cousin who did not exist!

"I owe you an apology, " I said. I tried to be as haughty as he, and fellshort by about two miles. "I brought the letter in good faith. "

"No doubt of that, " he answered. 

"Evidently it was given me by some adventurer for purposes of his own, "I went on; "though I am at a loss to guess what they could have been. "

"I'm frightfully sorry--really, " said he. But he said it with the Londoninflection, which plainly implies: "I'm nothing of the sort. "

A painful pause. I felt that he ought to give me back the letter; but hemade no move to do so. And, of course, I didn't ask for it. 

"Ah--er--good night, " said I and hurried toward the door. 

"Good night, " he answered, and I left him standing there with Archie'saccursed letter in his hand. 

That is the story of how I came to this house in Adelphi Terrace. Thereis mystery in it, you must admit, my lady. Once or twice since thatuncomfortable call I have passed the captain on the stairs; but thehalls are very dark, and for that I am grateful. I hear him often aboveme; in fact, I hear him as I write this. 

Who was Archie? What was the idea? I wonder. 

Ah, well, I have my garden, and for that I am indebted to Archie thegarrulous. It is nearly midnight now. The roar of London has died awayto a fretful murmur, and somehow across this baking town a breeze hasfound its way. It whispers over the green grass, in the ivy that climbsmy wall, in the soft murky folds of my curtains. Whispers--what?

Whispers, perhaps, the dreams that go with this, the first of my lettersto you. They are dreams that even I dare not whisper yet. 

And so--good night. 

THE STRAWBERRY MAN. 

CHAPTER III

With a smile that betrayed unusual interest, the daughter of the Texasstatesman read that letter on Thursday morning in her room at theCarlton. There was no question about it--the first epistle from thestrawberry-mad one had caught and held her attention. All day, as shedragged her father through picture galleries, she found herself lookingforward to another morning, wondering, eager. 

But on the following morning Sadie Haight, the maid through whom thisodd correspondence was passing, had no letter to deliver. The newsrather disappointed the daughter of Texas. At noon she insisted onreturning to the hotel for luncheon, though, as her father pointed out, they were far from the Carlton at the time. Her journey was rewarded. Letter number two was waiting; and as she read she gasped. 

DEAR LADY AT THE CARLTON: I am writing this at three in the morning, with London silent as the grave, beyond our garden. That I am so late ingetting to it is not because I did not think of you all day yesterday;not because I did not sit down at my desk at seven last evening toaddress you. Believe me, only the most startling, the most appallingaccident could have held me up. 

That most startling, most appalling accident has happened. 

I am tempted to give you the news at once in one striking and terriblesentence. And I could write that sentence. A tragedy, wrapped in mysteryas impenetrable as a London fog, has befallen our quiet little house inAdelphi Terrace. In their basement room the Walters family, sleepless, overwhelmed, sit silent; on the dark stairs outside my door I hear atintervals the tramp of men on unhappy missions--But no; I must go backto the very start of it all:

Last night I had an early dinner at Simpson's, in the Strand--so earlythat I was practically alone in the restaurant. The letter I was aboutto write to you was uppermost in my mind and, having quickly dined, Ihurried back to my rooms. I remember clearly that, as I stood in thestreet before our house fumbling for my keys, Big Ben on the ParliamentBuildings struck the hour of seven. The chime of the great bell rang outin our peaceful thoroughfare like a loud and friendly greeting. 

Gaining my study, I sat down at once to write. Over my head I couldhear Captain Fraser-Freer moving about--attiring himself, probably, fordinner. I was thinking, with an amused smile, how horrified he would beif he knew that the crude American below him had dined at the impossiblehour of six, when suddenly I heard, in that room above me, some strangertalking in a harsh determined tone. Then came the captain's answeringvoice, calmer, more dignified. This conversation went along for sometime, growing each moment more excited. Though I could not distinguish aword of it, I had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a controversyon; and I remember feeling annoyed that any one should thus interferewith my composition of your letter, which I regarded as most important, you may be sure. 

At the end of five minutes of argument there came the heavy thump-thumpof men struggling above me. It recalled my college days, when we usedto hear the fellows in the room above us throwing each other about inan excess of youth and high spirits. But this seemed more grim, moredetermined, and I did not like it. --However, I reflected that it wasnone of my business. I tried to think about my letter. 

The struggle ended with a particularly heavy thud that shook our ancienthouse to its foundations. I sat listening, somehow very much depressed. There was no sound. It was not entirely dark outside--the longtwilight--and the frugal Walters had not lighted the hall lamps. Somebody was coming down the stairs very quietly--but their creakingbetrayed him. I waited for him to pass through the shaft of light thatpoured from the door open at my back. At that moment Fate intervened inthe shape of a breeze through my windows, the door banged shut, and aheavy man rushed by me in the darkness and ran down the stairs. I knewhe was heavy, because the passageway was narrow and he had to push measide to get by. I heard him swear beneath his breath. 

Quickly I went to a hall window at the far end that looked out on thestreet. But the front door did not open; no one came out. I was puzzledfor a second; then I reentered my room and hurried to my balcony. Icould make out the dim figure of a man running through the garden atthe rear--that garden of which I have so often spoken. He did not tryto open the gate; he climbed it, and so disappeared from sight into thealley. 

For a moment I considered. These were odd actions, surely; but was it myplace to interfere? I remembered the cold stare in the eyes of CaptainFraser-Freer when I presented that letter. I saw him standing motionlessin his murky study, as amiable as a statue. Would he welcome anintrusion from me now?

Finally I made up my mind to forget these things and went down to findWalters. He and his wife were eating their dinner in the basement. Itold him what had happened. He said he had let no visitor in to see thecaptain, and was inclined to view my misgivings with a cold British eye. However, I persuaded him to go with me to the captain's rooms. 

The captain's door was open. Remembering that in England the way of theintruder is hard, I ordered Walters to go first. He stepped into theroom, where the gas flickered feebly in an aged chandelier. 

"My God, sir!" said Walters, a servant even now. 

And at last I write that sentence: Captain Fraser-Freer of the IndianArmy lay dead on the floor, a smile that was almost a sneer on hishandsome English face!

The horror of it is strong with me now as I sit in the silent morning inthis room of mine which is so like the one in which the captain died. Hehad been stabbed just over the heart, and my first thought was of thatodd Indian knife which I had seen lying on his study table. I turnedquickly to seek it, but it was gone. And as I looked at the tableit came to me that here in this dusty room there must be fingerprints--many finger prints. 

The room was quite in order, despite those sounds of struggle. One ortwo odd matters met my eye. On the table stood a box from a florist inBond Street. The lid had been removed and I saw that the box containeda number of white asters. Beside the box lay a scarf-pin--an emeraldscarab. And not far from the captain's body lay what is known--owing tothe German city where it is made--as a Homburg hat. 

I recalled that it is most important at such times that nothing bedisturbed, and I turned to old Walters. His face was like this paper onwhich I write; his knees trembled beneath him. 

"Walters, " said I, "we must leave things just as they are until thepolice arrive. Come with me while I notify Scotland Yard. "

"Very good, sir, " said Walters. 

We went down then to the telephone in the lower hall, and I called upthe Yard. I was told that an inspector would come at once and I wentback to my room to wait for him. 

You can well imagine the feelings that were mine as I waited. Beforethis mystery should be solved, I foresaw that I might be involved to adegree that was unpleasant if not dangerous. Walters would remember thatI first came here as one acquainted with the captain. He had noted, Ifelt sure, the lack of intimacy between the captain and myself, oncethe former arrived from India. He would no doubt testify that I had beenmost anxious to obtain lodgings in the same house with Fraser-Freer. Then there was the matter of my letter from Archie. I must keep thatsecret, I felt sure. Lastly, there was not a living soul to back me upin my story of the quarrel that preceded the captain's death, of the manwho escaped by way of the garden. 

Alas, thought I, even the most stupid policeman can not fail to lookupon me with the eye of suspicion!

In about twenty minutes three men arrived from Scotland Yard. By thattime I had worked myself up into a state of absurd nervousness. I heardWalters let them in; heard them climb the stairs and walk about in theroom overhead. In a short time Walters knocked at my door and told methat Chief Inspector Bray desired to speak to me. As I preceded theservant up the stairs I felt toward him as an accused murderer must feeltoward the witness who has it in his power to swear his life away. 

He was a big active man--Bray; blond as are so many Englishmen. Hisevery move spoke efficiency. Trying to act as unconcerned as an innocentman should--but failing miserably, I fear--I related to him my storyof the voices, the struggle, and the heavy man who had got by me in thehall and later climbed our gate. He listened without comment. At the endhe said:

"You were acquainted with the captain?"

"Slightly, " I told him. Archie's letter kept popping into my mind, frightening me. "I had just met him--that is all; through a friend ofhis--Archibald Enwright was the name. "

"Is Enwright in London to vouch for you?"

"I'm afraid not. I last heard of him in Interlaken. "

"Yes? How did you happen to take rooms in this house?"

"The first time I called to see the captain he had not yet arrived fromIndia. I was looking for lodgings and I took a great fancy to the gardenhere. "

It sounded silly, put like that. I wasn't surprised that the inspectoreyed me with scorn. But I rather wished he hadn't. 

Bray began to walk about the room, ignoring me. 

"White asters; scarab pin; Homburg hat, " he detailed, pausing before thetable where those strange exhibits lay. 

A constable came forward carrying newspapers in his hand. 

"What is it?" Bray asked. 

"The Daily Mail, sir, " said the constable. "The issues of Julytwenty-seventh, twenty-eighth, twenty-ninth and thirtieth. "

Bray took the papers in his hand, glanced at them and tossed themcontemptuously into a waste-basket. He turned to Walters. 

"Sorry, sir, " said Walters; "but I was so taken aback! Nothing like thishas ever happened to me before. I'll go at once--"

"No, " replied Bray sharply. "Never mind. I'll attend to it--"

There was a knock at the door. Bray called "Come!" and a slender boy, frail but with a military bearing, entered. 

"Hello, Walters!" he said, smiling. "What's up? I-"

He stopped suddenly as his eyes fell upon the divan where Fraser-Freerlay. In an instant he was at the dead man's side. 

"Stephen!" he cried in anguish. 

"Who are you?" demanded the inspector--rather rudely, I thought. 

"It's the captain's brother, sir, " put in Walters. "Lieutenant NormanFraser-Freer, of the Royal Fusiliers. "

There fell a silence. 

"A great calamity, sir--" began Walters to the boy. 

I have rarely seen any one so overcome as young Fraser-Freer. Watchinghim, it seemed to me that the affection existing between him and the manon the divan must have been a beautiful thing. He turned away from hisbrother at last, and Walters sought to give him some idea of what hadhappened. 

"You will pardon me, gentlemen, " said the lieutenant. "This has been aterrible shock! I didn't dream, of course--I just dropped in for a wordwith--with him. And now--"

We said nothing. We let him apologize, as a true Englishman must, forhis public display of emotion. 

"I'm sorry, " Bray remarked in a moment, his eyes still shifting aboutthe room--"especially as England may soon have great need of men likethe captain. Now, gentlemen, I want to say this: I am the Chief of theSpecial Branch at the Yard. This is no ordinary murder. For reasonsI can not disclose--and, I may add, for the best interests of theempire--news of the captain's tragic death must be kept for the presentout of the newspapers. I mean, of course, the manner of his going. Amere death notice, you understand--the inference being that it was anatural taking off. "

"I understand, " said the lieutenant, as one who knows more than hetells. 

"Thank you, " said Bray. "I shall leave you to attend to the matter, asfar as your family is concerned. You will take charge of the body. Asfor the rest of you, I forbid you to mention this matter outside. "

And now Bray stood looking, with a puzzled air, at me. 

"You are an American?" he said, and I judged he did not care forAmericans. 

"I am, " I told him. 

"Know any one at your consulate?" he demanded. 

Thank heaven, I did! There is an under-secretary there named Watson--Iwent to college with him. I mentioned him to Bray. 

"Very good, " said the inspector. "You are free to go. But you mustunderstand that you are an important witness in this case, and if youattempt to leave London you will be locked up. "

So I came back to my rooms, horribly entangled in a mystery that islittle to my liking. I have been sitting here in my study for some time, going over it again and again. There have been many footsteps on thestairs, many voices in the hall. 

Waiting here for the dawn, I have come to be very sorry for the coldhandsome captain. After all, he was a man; his very tread on the floorabove, which it shall never hear again, told me that. 

What does it all mean? Who was the man in the hall, the man who hadargued so loudly, who had struck so surely with that queer Indian knife?Where is the knife now?

And, above all, what do the white asters signify? And the scarabscarf-pin? And that absurd Homburg hat?

Lady of the Carlton, you wanted mystery. When I wrote that first letterto you, little did I dream that I should soon have it to give you inoverwhelming measure. 

And--believe me when I say it--through all this your face has beenconstantly before me--your face as I saw it that bright morning in thehotel breakfast room. You have forgiven me, I know, for the mannerin which I addressed you. I had seen your eyes and the temptation wasgreat--very great. 

It is dawn in the garden now and London is beginning to stir. So thistime it is--good morning, my lady. 

THE STRAWBERRY MAN. 

CHAPTER IV

It is hardly necessary to intimate that this letter came as something ofa shock to the young woman who received it. For the rest of that day themany sights of London held little interest for her--so little, indeed, that her perspiring father began to see visions of his beloved Texas;and once hopefully suggested an early return home. The coolness withwhich this idea was received plainly showed him that he was on the wrongtrack; so he sighed and sought solace at the bar. 

That night the two from Texas attended His Majesty's Theater, whereBernard Shaw's latest play was being performed; and the witty Irishmanwould have been annoyed to see the scant attention one lovely youngAmerican in the audience gave his lines. The American in questionretired at midnight, with eager thoughts turned toward the morning. 

And she was not disappointed. When her maid, a stolid Englishwoman, appeared at her bedside early Saturday she carried a letter, whichshe handed over, with the turned-up nose of one who aids but does notapprove. Quickly the girl tore it open. 

DEAR Texas LADY: I am writing this late in the afternoon. The sun iscasting long black shadows on the garden lawn, and the whole world isso bright and matter-of-fact I have to argue with myself to be convincedthat the events of that tragic night through which I passed reallyhappened. 

The newspapers this morning helped to make it all seem a dream; not aline--not a word, that I can find. When I think of America, and howby this time the reporters would be swarming through our house if thisthing had happened over there, I am the more astonished. But then, Iknow these English papers. The great Joe Chamberlain died the othernight at ten, and it was noon the next day when the first paper to carrythe story appeared--screaming loudly that it had scored a beat. It had. Other lands, other methods. 

It was probably not difficult for Bray to keep journalists such as thesein the dark. So their great ungainly sheets come out in total ignoranceof a remarkable story in Adelphi Terrace. Famished for real news, theybegin to hint at a huge war cloud on the horizon. Because totteringAustria has declared war on tiny Serbia, because the Kaiser is to-dayhurrying, with his best dramatic effect, home to Berlin, they see allEurope shortly bathed in blood. A nightmare born of torrid days andtossing nights!

But it is of the affair in Adelphi Terrace that you no doubt want tohear. One sequel of the tragedy, which adds immeasurably to the mysteryof it all, has occurred, and I alone am responsible for its discovery. But to go back:

I returned from mailing your letter at dawn this morning, very tiredfrom the tension of the night. I went to bed, but could not sleep. More and more it was preying on my mind that I was in a most unhappyposition. I had not liked the looks cast at me by Inspector Bray, or hisvoice when he asked how I came to live in this house. I told myselfI should not be safe until the real murderer of the poor captainwas found; and so I began to puzzle over the few clues in thecase--especially over the asters, the scarab pin and the Homburg hat. 

It was then I remembered the four copies of the Daily Mail that Bray hadcasually thrown into the waste-basket as of no interest. I had glancedover his shoulder as he examined these papers, and had seen that each ofthem was folded so that our favorite department--the Agony Column--wasuppermost. It happened I had in my desk copies of the Mail for the pastweek. You will understand why. 

I rose, found those papers, and began to read. It was then that I madethe astounding discovery to which I have alluded. 

For a time after making it I was dumb with amazement, so that no courseof action came readily to mind. In the end I decided that the thing forme to do was to wait for Bray's return in the morning and then point outto him the error he had made in ignoring the Mail. 

Bray came in about eight o'clock and a few minutes later I heardanother man ascend the stairs. I was shaving at the time, but I quicklycompleted the operation and, slipping on a bathrobe, hurried up to thecaptain's rooms. The younger brother had seen to the removal of theunfortunate man's body in the night, and, aside from Bray and thestranger who had arrived almost simultaneously with him, there was noone but a sleepy-eyed constable there. 

Bray's greeting was decidedly grouchy. The stranger, however--a tallbronzed man--made himself known to me in the most cordial manner. Hetold me he was Colonel Hughes, a close friend of the dead man; and that, unutterably shocked and grieved, he had come to inquire whether therewas anything he might do. "Inspector, " said I, "last night in this roomyou held in your hand four copies of the Daily Mail. You tossed theminto that basket as of no account. May I suggest that you rescue thosecopies, as I have a rather startling matter to make clear to you?"Too grand an official to stoop to a waste-basket, he nodded to theconstable. The latter brought the papers; and, selecting one from thelot, I spread it out on the table. "The issue of July twenty-seventh, " Isaid. 

I pointed to an item half-way down the column of Personal Notices. Youyourself, my lady, may read it there if you happen to have saved a copy. It ran as follows:

"RANGOON: The asters are in full bloom in the garden at Canterbury. Theyare very beautiful--especially the white ones. "

Bray grunted, and opened his little eyes. I took up the issue of thefollowing day--the twenty-eighth:

"RANGOON: We have been forced to sell father's stick-pin--the emeraldscarab he brought home from Cairo. "

I had Bray's interest now. He leaned heavily toward me, puffing. Greatlyexcited, I held before his eyes the issue of the twenty-ninth:

"RANGOON: Homburg hat gone forever--caught by a breeze--into the river. "

"And finally, " said I to the inspector, "the last message of all, in theissue of the thirtieth of July--on sale in the streets some twelve hoursbefore Fraser-Freer was murdered. See!"

"RANGOON: To-night at ten. Regent Street. --Y. O. G. "

Bray was silent. 

"I take it you are aware, Inspector, " I said, "that for the past twoyears Captain Fraser-Freer was stationed at Rangoon. "

Still he said nothing; just looked at me with those foxy little eyesthat I was coming to detest. At last he spoke sharply:

"Just how, " he demanded, "did you happen to discover those messages? Youwere not in this room last night after I left?" He turned angrily to theconstable. "I gave orders--"

"No, " I put in; "I was not in this room. I happened to have on file inmy rooms copies of the Mail, and by the merest chance--"

I saw that I had blundered. Undoubtedly my discovery of those messageswas too pat. Once again suspicion looked my way. 

"Thank you very much, " said Bray. "I'll keep this in mind. "

"Have you communicated with my friend at the consulate?" I asked. 

"Yes. That's all. Good morning. "

So I went. 

I had been back in my room some twenty minutes when there came a knockon the door, and Colonel Hughes entered. He was a genial man, in theearly forties I should say, tanned by some sun not English, and gray atthe temples. 

"My dear sir, " he said without preamble, "this is a most appallingbusiness!"

"Decidedly, " I answered. "Will you sit down?"

"Thank you. " He sat and gazed frankly into my eyes. "Policemen, " headded meaningly, "are a most suspicious tribe--often without reason. Iam sorry you happen to be involved in this affair, for I may say thatI fancy you to be exactly what you seem. May I add that, if you shouldever need a friend, I am at your service?"

I was touched; I thanked him as best I could. His tone was sosympathetic and before I realized it I was telling him the wholestory--of Archie and his letter; of my falling in love with a garden; ofthe startling discovery that the captain had never heard of his cousin;and of my subsequent unpleasant position. He leaned back in his chairand closed his eyes. 

"I suppose, " he said, "that no man ever carries an unsealed letter ofintroduction without opening it to read just what praises have beenlavished upon him. It is human nature--I have done it often. May I makeso bold as to inquire--"

"Yes, " said I. "It was unsealed and I did read it. Considering itspurpose, it struck me as rather long. There were many warm words forme--words beyond all reason in view of my brief acquaintance withEnwright. I also recall that he mentioned how long he had been inInterlaken, and that he said he expected to reach London about the firstof August. "

"The first of August, " repeated the colonel. "That is to-morrow. Now--ifyou'll be so kind--just what happened last night?"

Again I ran over the events of that tragic evening--the quarrel; theheavy figure in the hall; the escape by way of the seldom-used gate. 

"My boy, " said Colonel Hughes as he rose to go, "the threads of thistragedy stretch far--some of them to India; some to a country I will notname. I may say frankly that I have other and greater interest in thematter than that of the captain's friend. For the present that is instrict confidence between us; the police are well-meaning, but theysometimes blunder. Did I understand you to say that you have copies ofthe Mail containing those odd messages?"

"Right here in my desk, " said I. I got them for him. 

"I think I shall take them--if I may, " he said. "You will, of course, not mention this little visit of mine. We shall meet again. Goodmorning. "

And he went away, carrying those papers with their strange signals toRangoon. 

Somehow I feel wonderfully cheered by his call. For the first time sinceseven last evening I begin to breathe freely again. 

And so, lady who likes mystery, the matter stands on the afternoon ofthe last day of July, nineteen hundred and fourteen. 

I shall mail you this letter to-night. It is my third to you, and itcarries with it three times the dreams that went with the first; forthey are dreams that live not only at night, when the moon is on thecourtyard, but also in the bright light of day. 

Yes--I am remarkably cheered. I realize that I have not eaten atall--save a cup of coffee from the trembling hand of Walters--sincelast night, at Simpson's. I am going now to dine. I shall begin withgrapefruit. I realize that I am suddenly very fond of grapefruit. 

How bromidic to note it--we have many tastes in common!

EX-STRAWBERRY MAN. 

The third letter from her correspondent of the Agony Column increasedin the mind of the lovely young woman at the Carlton the excitement andtension the second had created. For a long time, on the Saturday morningof its receipt, she sat in her room puzzling over the mystery ofthe house in Adelphi Terrace. When first she had heard that CaptainFraser-Freer, of the Indian Army, was dead of a knife wound over theheart, the news had shocked her like that of the loss of some oldand dear friend. She had desired passionately the apprehension of hismurderer, and had turned over and over in her mind the possibilities ofwhite asters, a scarab pin and a Homburg hat. 

Perhaps the girl longed for the arrest of the guilty man thus keenlybecause this jaunty young friend of hers--a friend whose name she didnot know--to whom, indeed, she had never spoken--was so dangerouslyentangled in the affair. For, from what she knew of Geoffrey West, fromher casual glance in the restaurant and, far more, from his letters, sheliked him extremely. 

And now came his third letter, in which he related the connection ofthat hat, that pin and those asters with the column in the Mail whichhad first brought them together. As it happened, she, too, had copiesof the paper for the first four days of the week. She went to hersitting-room, unearthed these copies, and--gasped! For from thecolumn in Monday's paper stared up at her the cryptic words to Rangoonconcerning asters in a garden at Canterbury. In the other three issuesas well, she found the identical messages her strawberry man had quoted. She sat for a moment in deep thought; sat, in fact, until at her doorcame the enraged knocking of a hungry parent who had been waiting a fullhour in the lobby below for her to join him at breakfast. 

"Come, come!" boomed her father, entering at her invitation. "Don't sithere all day mooning. I'm hungry if you're not. "

With quick apologies she made ready to accompany him down-stairs. Firmly, as she planned their campaign for the day, she resolved to putfrom her mind all thought of Adelphi Terrace. How well she succeededmay be judged from a speech made by her father that night just beforedinner:

"Have you lost your tongue, Marian? You're as uncommunicative as anewly-elected office-holder. If you can't get a little more life intothese expeditions of ours we'll pack up and head for home. "

She smiled, patted his shoulder and promised to improve. But he appearedto be in a gloomy mood. 

"I believe we ought to go, anyhow, " he went on. "In my opinion this waris going to spread like a prairie fire. The Kaiser got back to Berlinyesterday. He'll sign the mobilization orders to-day as sure as fate. For the past week, on the Berlin Bourse, Canadian Pacific stock has beendropping. That means they expect England to come in. "

He gazed darkly into the future. It may seem that, for an Americanstatesman, he had an unusual grasp of European politics. This is easilyexplained by the fact that he had been talking with the bootblack at theCarlton Hotel. 

"Yes, " he said with sudden decision, "I'll go down to the steamshipoffices early Monday morning. "

CHAPTER V

His daughter heard these words with a sinking heart. She had a mostunhappy picture of herself boarding a ship and sailing out of Liverpoolor Southampton, leaving the mystery that so engrossed her thoughtsforever unsolved. Wisely she diverted her father's thoughts towardthe question of food. She had heard, she said, that Simpson's, in theStrand, was an excellent place to dine. They would go there, and walk. She suggested a short detour that would carry them through AdelphiTerrace. It seemed she had always wanted to see Adelphi Terrace. 

As they passed through that silent Street she sought to guess, from aninspection of the grim forbidding house fronts, back of which lay thelovely garden, the romantic mystery. But the houses were so very muchlike one another. Before one of them, she noted, a taxi waited. 

After dinner her father pleaded for a music-hall as against what hecalled "some highfaluting, teacup English play. " He won. Late thatnight, as they rode back to the Carlton, special editions were beingproclaimed in the streets. Germany was mobilizing!

The girl from Texas retired, wondering what epistolary surprise themorning would bring forth. It brought forth this:

DEAR DAUGHTER OF THE SENATE: Or is it Congress? I could not quitedecide. But surely in one or the other of those august bodies yourfather sits when he is not at home in Texas or viewing Europe throughhis daughter's eyes. One look at him and I had gathered that. 

But Washington is far from London, isn't it? And it is London thatinterests us most--though father's constituents must not know that. Itis really a wonderful, an astounding city, once you have got the feel ofthe tourist out of your soul. I have been reading the most enthrallingessays on it, written by a newspaper man who first fell desperatelyin love with it at seven--an age when the whole glittering town wassymbolized for him by the fried-fish shop at the corner of the HighStreet. With him I have been going through its gray and furtivethoroughfares in the dead of night, and sometimes we have kicked anash-barrel and sometimes a romance. Some day I might show that Londonto you--guarding you, of course, from the ash-barrels, if you are thatkind. On second thoughts, you aren't. But I know that it is of AdelphiTerrace and a late captain in the Indian Army that you want to hear now. Yesterday, after my discovery of those messages in the Mail and the callof Captain Hughes, passed without incident. Last night I mailed you mythird letter, and after wandering for a time amid the alternate glareand gloom of the city, I went back to my rooms and smoked on my balconywhile about me the inmates of six million homes sweltered in the heat. Nothing happened. I felt a bit disappointed, a bit cheated, as one mightfeel on the first night spent at home after many successive visits toexciting plays. To-day, the first of August dawned, and still all wasquiet. Indeed, it was not until this evening that further developmentsin the sudden death of Captain Fraser-Freer arrived to disturb me. Thesedevelopments are strange ones surely, and I shall hasten to relate them. 

I dined to-night at a little place in Soho. My waiter was Italian, andon him I amused myself with the Italian in Ten Lessons of which I amfoolishly proud. We talked of Fiesole, where he had lived. Once I rodefrom Fiesole down the hill to Florence in the moonlight. I rememberendless walls on which hung roses, fresh and blooming. I remember agaunt nunnery and two-gray-robed sisters clanging shut the gates. I remember the searchlight from the military encampment, playingconstantly over the Arno and the roofs--the eye of Mars that, here inEurope, never closes. And always the flowers nodding above me, stoopingnow and then to brush my face. I came to think that at the end Paradise, and not a second-rate hotel, was waiting. One may still take that ride, I fancy. Some day--some day--

I dined in Soho. I came back to Adelphi Terrace in the hot, reekingAugust dusk, reflecting that the mystery in which I was involved was, after a fashion, standing still. In front of our house I noticed a taxiwaiting. I thought nothing of it as I entered the murky hallway andclimbed the familiar stairs. 

My door stood open. It was dark in my study, save for the reflection ofthe lights of London outside. As I crossed the threshold there came tomy nostrils the faint sweet perfume of lilacs. There are no lilacs inour garden, and if there were it is not the season. No, this perfume hadbeen brought there by a woman--a woman who sat at my desk and raised herhead as I entered. 

"You will pardon this intrusion, " she said in the correct carefulEnglish of one who has learned the speech from a book. "I have come fora brief word with you--then I shall go. "

I could think of nothing to say. I stood gaping like a schoolboy. 

"My word, " the woman went on, "is in the nature of advice. We do notalways like those who give us advice. None the less, I trust that youwill listen. "

I found my tongue then. 

"I am listening, " I said stupidly. "But first--a light--" And I movedtoward the matches on the mantelpiece. 

Quickly the woman rose and faced me. I saw then that she wore aveil--not a heavy veil, but a fluffy, attractive thing that was yetsufficient to screen her features from me. 

"I beg of you, " she cried, "no light!" And as I paused, undecided, sheadded, in a tone which suggested lips that pout: "It is such a littlething to ask--surely you will not refuse. "

I suppose I should have insisted. But her voice was charming, her mannerperfect, and that odor of lilacs reminiscent of a garden I knew longago, at home. 

"Very well, " said I. 

"Oh--I am grateful to you, " she answered. Her tone changed. "Iunderstand that, shortly after seven o'clock last Thursday evening, youheard in the room above you the sounds of a struggle. Such has been yourtestimony to the police?"

"It has, " said I. 

"Are you quite certain as to the hour?" I felt that she was smiling atme. "Might it not have been later--or earlier?"

"I am sure it was just after seven, " I replied. "I'll tell you why: Ihad just returned from dinner and while I was unlocking the door Big Benon the House of Parliament struck--"

She raised her hand. 

"No matter, " she said, and there was a touch of iron in her voice. "You are no longer sure of that. Thinking it over, you have come to theconclusion that it may have been barely six-thirty when you heard thenoise of a struggle. "

"Indeed?" said I. I tried to sound sarcastic, but I was really tooastonished by her tone. 

"Yes--indeed!" she replied. "That is what you will tell Inspector Braywhen next you see him. 'It may have been six-thirty, ' you will tell him. 'I have thought it over and I am not certain. '"

"Even for a very charming lady, " I said "I can not misrepresent thefacts in a matter so important. It was after seven--"

"I am not asking you to do a favor for a lady, " she replied. "I amasking you to do a favor for yourself. If you refuse the consequencesmay be most unpleasant. "

"I'm rather at a loss--" I began. 

She was silent for a moment. Then she turned and I felt her looking atme through the veil. 

"Who was Archibald Enwright?" she demanded. My heart sank. I recognizedthe weapon in her hands. "The police, " she went on, "do not yet knowthat the letter of introduction you brought to the captain was signed bya man who addressed Fraser-Freer as Dear Cousin, but who is completelyunknown to the family. Once that information reaches Scotland Yard, yourchance of escaping arrest is slim. 

"They may not be able to fasten this crime upon you, but there will becomplications most distasteful. One's liberty is well worth keeping--andthen, too, before the case ends, there will be wide publicity--"

"'Well?" said I. 

"That is why you are going to suffer a lapse of memory in the matter ofthe hour at which you heard that struggle. As you think it over, itis going to occur to you that it may have been six-thirty, not seven. Otherwise--"

"Go on. "

"Otherwise the letter of introduction you gave to the captain will besent anonymously to Inspector Bray. "

"You have that letter!" I cried. 

"Not I, " she answered. "But it will be sent to Bray. It will be pointedout to him that you were posing under false colors. You could notescape!"

I was most uncomfortable. The net of suspicion seemed closing in aboutme. But I was resentful, too, of the confidence in this woman's voice. 

"None the less, " said I, "I refuse to change my testimony. The truth isthe truth--"

The woman had moved to the door. She turned. 

"To-morrow, " she replied, "it is not unlikely you will see InspectorBray. As I said, I came here to give you advice. You had better take it. What does it matter--a half-hour this way or that? And the difference isprison for you. Good night. "

She was gone. I followed into the hall. Below, in the street, I heardthe rattle of her taxi. 

I went back into my room and sat down. I was upset, and no mistake. Outside my windows the continuous symphony of the city played on--thebusses, the trains, the never-silent voices. I gazed out. What atremendous acreage of dank brick houses and dank British souls! I felthorribly alone. I may add that I felt a bit frightened, as though thatgreat city were slowly closing in on me. 

Who was this woman of mystery? What place had she held in the life--andperhaps in the death--of Captain Fraser-Freer? Why should she comeboldly to my rooms to make her impossible demand?

I resolved that, even at the risk of my own comfort, I would stick tothe truth. And to that resolve I would have clung had I not shortlyreceived another visit--this one far more inexplicable, far moresurprising, than the first. 

It was about nine o'clock when Walters tapped at my door and told metwo gentlemen wished to see me. A moment later into my study walkedLieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer and a fine old gentleman with a face thatsuggested some faded portrait hanging on an aristocrat's wall. I hadnever seen him before. 

"I hope it is quite convenient for you to see us, " said youngFraser-Freer. 

I assured him that it was. The boy's face was drawn and haggard; therewas terrible suffering in his eyes, yet about him hung, like a halo, theglory of a great resolution. 

"May I present my father?" he said. "General Fraser-Freer, retired. Wehave come on a matter of supreme importance--"

The old man muttered something I could not catch. I could see thathe had been hard hit by the loss of his elder son. I asked them to beseated; the general complied, but the boy walked the floor in a mannermost distressing. 

"I shall not be long, " he remarked. "Nor at a time like this is one inthe mood to be diplomatic. I will only say, sir, that we have come toask of you a great--a very great favor indeed. You may not see fit togrant it. If that is the case we can not well reproach you. But if youcan--"

"It is a great favor, sir!" broke in the general. "And I am in the oddposition where I do not know whether you will serve me best by grantingit or by refusing to do so. "

"Father--please--if you don't mind--" The boy's voice was kindly butdetermined. He turned to me. 

"Sir--you have testified to the police that it was a bit past seven whenyou heard in the room above the sounds of the struggle which--which--Youunderstand. "

In view of the mission of the caller who had departed a scant hourpreviously, the boy's question startled me. 

"Such was my testimony, " I answered. "It was the truth. "

"Naturally, " said Lieutenant Fraser-Freer. "But--er--as a matter offact, we are here to ask that you alter your testimony. Could you, as afavor to us who have suffered so cruel a loss--a favor we should neverforget--could you not make the hour of that struggle half after six?"

I was quite overwhelmed. 

"Your--reasons?" I managed at last to ask. 

"I am not able to give them to you in full, " the boy answered. "I canonly say this: It happens that at seven o'clock last Thursday night Iwas dining with friends at the Savoy--friends who would not be likely toforget the occasion. "

The old general leaped to his feet. 

"Norman, " he cried, "I can not let you do this thing! I simply willnot--"

"Hush, father, " said the boy wearily. "We have threshed it all out. Youhave promised--"

The old man sank back into the chair and buried his face in his hands. 

"If you are willing to change your testimony, " young Fraser-Freer wenton to me, "I shall at once confess to the police that it was I who--whomurdered my brother. They suspect me. They know that late last Thursdayafternoon I purchased a revolver, for which, they believe, at the lastmoment I substituted the knife. They know that I was in debt to him;that we had quarreled about money matters; that by his death I, and Ialone, could profit. "

He broke off suddenly and came toward me, holding out his arms with apleading gesture I can never forget. 

"Do this for me!" he cried. "Let me confess! Let me end this wholehorrible business here and now. "

Surely no man had ever to answer such an appeal before. 

"Why?" I found myself saying, and over and over I repeated it--"Why?Why?"

The lieutenant faced me, and I hope never again to see such a look in aman's eyes. 

"I loved him!" he cried. "That is why. For his honor, for the honor ofour family, I am making this request of you. Believe me, it is not easy. I can tell you no more than that. You knew my brother?"

"Slightly. "

"Then, for his sake--do this thing I ask. "

"But--murder--"

"You heard the sounds of a struggle. I shall say that we quarreled--thatI struck in self-defense. " He turned to his father. "It will mean onlya few years in prison--I can bear that!" he cried. "For the honor of ourname!"

The old man groaned, but did not raise his head. The boy walked backand forth over my faded carpet like a lion caged. I stood wondering whatanswer I should make. 

"I know what you are thinking, " said the lieutenant. "You can not credityour ears. But you have heard correctly. And now--as you might putit--it is up to you. I have been in your country. " He smiled pitifully. "I think I know you Americans. You are not the sort to refuse a man whenhe is sore beset--as I am. "

I looked from him to the general and back again. 

"I must think this over, " I answered, my mind going at once to ColonelHughes. "Later--say to-morrow--you shall have my decision. "

"To-morrow, " said the boy, "we shall both be called before InspectorBray. I shall know your answer then--and I hope with all my heart itwill be yes. "

There were a few mumbled words of farewell and he and the broken old manwent out. As soon as the street door closed behind them I hurried to thetelephone and called a number Colonel Hughes had given me. It was with afeeling of relief that I heard his voice come back over the wire. I toldhim I must see him at once. He replied that by a singular chance he hadbeen on the point of starting for my rooms. 

In the half-hour that elapsed before the coming of the colonel I walkedabout like a man in a trance. He was barely inside my door when I beganpouring out to him the story of those two remarkable visits. He madelittle comment on the woman's call beyond asking me whether I coulddescribe her; and he smiled when I mentioned lilac perfume. At mentionof young Fraser-Freer's preposterous request he whistled. 

"By gad!" he said. "Interesting--most interesting! I am not surprised, however. That boy has the stuff in him. "

"But what shall I do?" I demanded. 

Colonel Hughes smiled. 

"It makes little difference what you do, " he said. "Norman Fraser-Freerdid not kill his brother, and that will be proved in due time. " Heconsidered for a moment. "Bray no doubt would be glad to have you alteryour testimony, since he is trying to fasten the crime on the younglieutenant. On the whole, if I were you, I think that when theopportunity comes to-morrow I should humor the inspector. "

"You mean--tell him I am no longer certain as to the hour of thatstruggle?"

"Precisely. I give you my word that young Fraser-Freer will not bepermanently incriminated by such an act on your part. And incidentallyyou will be aiding me. "

"Very well, " said I. "But I don't understand this at all. "

"No--of course not. I wish I could explain to you; but I can not. Iwill say this--the death of Captain Fraser-Freer is regarded as a mostsignificant thing by the War Office. Thus it happens that two distincthunts for his assassin are under way--one conducted by Bray, the otherby me. Bray does not suspect that I am working on the case and I want tokeep him in the dark as long as possible. You may choose which of theseinvestigations you wish to be identified with. "

"I think, " said I, "that I prefer you to Bray. "

"Good boy!" he answered. "You have not gone wrong. And you can do me aservice this evening, which is why I was on the point of coming here, even before you telephoned me. I take it that you remember and couldidentify the chap who called himself Archibald Enwright--the man whogave you that letter to the captain?"

"I surely could, " said I. 

"Then, if you can spare me an hour, get your hat. "

And so it happens, lady of the Carlton, that I have just been toLimehouse. You do not know where Limehouse is and I trust you neverwill. It is picturesque; it is revolting; it is colorful and wicked. Theweird odors of it still fill my nostrils; the sinister portrait of it isstill before my eyes. It is the Chinatown of London--Limehouse. Downin the dregs of the town--with West India Dock Road for its spinalcolumn--it lies, redolent of ways that are dark and tricks that arevain. Not only the heathen Chinee so peculiar shuffles through itsdim-lit alleys, but the scum of the earth, of many colors and of manyclimes. The Arab and the Hindu, the Malayan and the Jap, black men fromthe Congo and fair men from Scandinavia--these you may meet there--theoutpourings of all the ships that sail the Seven Seas. There manydrunken beasts, with their pay in their pockets, seek each his favoritesin; and for those who love most the opium, there is, at all too regularintervals, the Sign of the Open Lamp. 

We went there, Colonel Hughes and I. Up and down the narrow Causeway, yellow at intervals with the light from gloomy shops, dark mostlybecause of tightly closed shutters through which only thin jets foundtheir way, we walked until we came and stood at last in shadow outsidethe black doorway of Harry San Li's so-called restaurant. We waited ten, fifteen minutes; then a man came down the Causeway and paused beforethat door. There was something familiar in his jaunty walk. Then thefaint glow of the lamp that was the indication of Harry San's realbusiness lit his pale face, and I knew that I had seen him last inthe cool evening at Interlaken, where Limehouse could not have lived amoment, with the Jungfrau frowning down upon it. 

"Enwright?" whispered Hughes. 

"Not a doubt of it!" said I. 

"Good!" he replied with fervor. 

And now another man shuffled down the street and stood suddenly straightand waiting before the colonel. 

"Stay with him, " said Hughes softly. "Don't let him get out of yoursight. "

"Very good, sir, " said the man; and, saluting, he passed on up thestairs and whistled softly at that black depressing door. 

The clock above the Millwall Docks was striking eleven as the coloneland I caught a bus that should carry us back to a brighter, happierLondon. Hughes spoke but seldom on that ride; and, repeating his advicethat I humor Inspector Bray on the morrow, he left me in the Strand. 

So, my lady, here I sit in my study, waiting for that most important daythat is shortly to dawn. A full evening, you must admit. A woman withthe perfume of lilacs about her has threatened that unless I lie I shallencounter consequences most unpleasant. A handsome young lieutenant hasbegged me to tell that same lie for the honor of his family, and thuscondemn him to certain arrest and imprisonment. And I have beendown into hell, to-night and seen Archibald Enwright, of Interlaken, conniving with the devil. 

I presume I should go to bed; but I know I can not sleep. To-morrowis to be, beyond all question, a red-letter day in the matter of thecaptain's murder. And once again, against my will, I am down to play aleading part. 

The symphony of this great, gray, sad city is a mere hum in the distancenow, for it is nearly midnight. I shall mail this letter to you--postit, I should say, since I am in London--and then I shall wait in my dimrooms for the dawn. And as I wait I shall be thinking not always ofthe captain, or his brother, or Hughes, or Limehouse and Enwright, butoften--oh, very often--of you. 

In my last letter I scoffed at the idea of a great war. But when wecame back from Limehouse to-night the papers told us that the Kaiser hadsigned the order to mobilize. Austria in; Serbia in; Germany, Russiaand France in. Hughes tells me that England is shortly to follow, andI suppose there is no doubt of it. It is a frightful thing--this futurethat looms before us; and I pray that for you at least it may hold onlyhappiness. 

For, my lady, when I write good night, I speak it aloud as I write; andthere is in my voice more than I dare tell you of now. 

THE AGONY COLUMN MAN. 

Not unwelcome to the violet eyes of the girl from Texas were the lastwords of this letter, read in her room that Sunday morning. But thelines predicting England's early entrance into the war recalled to hermind a most undesirable contingency. On the previous night, when the warextras came out confirming the forecast of his favorite bootblack, herusually calm father had shown signs of panic. He was not a man slowto act. And she knew that, putty though he was in her hands in matterswhich he did not regard as important, he could also be firm where hethought firmness necessary. America looked even better to him thanusual, and he had made up his mind to go there immediately. There was nouse in arguing with him. 

At this point came a knock at her door and her father entered. One lookat his face--red, perspiring and decidedly unhappy--served to cheer hisdaughter. 

"Been down to the steamship offices, " he panted, mopping his bald head. "They're open to-day, just like it was a week day--but they might aswell be closed. There's nothing doing. Every boat's booked up to therails; we can't get out of here for two weeks--maybe more. "

"I'm sorry, " said his daughter. 

"No, you ain't! You're delighted! You think it's romantic to get caughtlike this. Wish I had the enthusiasm of youth. " He fanned himself with anewspaper. "Lucky I went over to the express office yesterday and loadedup on gold. I reckon when the blow falls it'll be tolerable hard to cashchecks in this man's town. "

"That was a good idea. "

"Ready for breakfast?" he inquired. 

"Quite ready, " she smiled. 

They went below, she humming a song from a revue, while he glared ather. She was very glad they were to be in London a little longer. Shefelt she could not go, with that mystery still unsolved. 

CHAPTER VI

The last peace Sunday London was to know in many weary months went by, a tense and anxious day. Early on Monday the fifth letter from the youngman of the Agony Column arrived, and when the girl from Texas read itshe knew that under no circumstances could she leave London now. 

It ran:

DEAR LADY FROM HOME: I call you that because the word home has for me, this hot afternoon in London, about the sweetest sound word ever had. Ican see, when I close my eyes, Broadway at midday; Fifth Avenue, gay andcolorful, even with all the best people away; Washington Square, coolunder the trees, lovely and desirable despite the presence everywhere ofalien neighbors from the district to the South. I long for home with anardent longing; never was London so cruel, so hopeless, so drab, in myeyes. For, as I write this, a constable sits at my elbow, and he andI are shortly to start for Scotland Yard. I have been arrested as asuspect in the case of Captain Fraser-Freer's murder!

I predicted last night that this was to be a red-letter day in thehistory of that case, and I also saw myself an unwilling actor in thedrama. But little did I suspect the series of astonishing events thatwas to come with the morning; little did I dream that the net I havebeen dreading would to-day engulf me. I can scarcely blame InspectorBray for holding me; what I can not understand is why Colonel Hughes--

But you want, of course, the whole story from the beginning; and I shallgive it to you. At eleven o'clock this morning a constable called onme at my rooms and informed me that I was wanted at once by the ChiefInspector at the Yard. 

We climbed--the constable and I--a narrow stone stairway somewhere atthe back of New Scotland Yard, and so came to the inspector's room. Bray was waiting for us, smiling and confident. I remember--silly as thedetail is--that he wore in his buttonhole a white rose. His manner ofgreeting me was more genial than usual. He began by informing me thatthe police had apprehended the man who, they believed, was guilty of thecaptain's murder. 

"There is one detail to be cleared up, " he said. "You told me the othernight that it was shortly after seven o'clock when you heard the soundsof struggle in the room above you. You were somewhat excited at thetime, and under similar circumstances men have been known to makemistakes. Have you considered the matter since? Is it not possible thatyou were in error in regard to the hour?"

I recalled Hughes' advice to humor the inspector; and I said that, having thought it over, I was not quite sure. It might have been earlierthan seven--say six-thirty. 

"Exactly, " said Bray. He seemed rather pleased. "The natural stressof the moment--I understand. Wilkinson, bring in your prisoner. Theconstable addressed turned and left the room, coming back a moment laterwith Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer. The boy was pale; I could see at aglance that he had not slept for several nights. 

"Lieutenant, " said Bray very sharply, "will you tell me--is it true thatyour brother, the late captain, had loaned you a large sum of money ayear or so ago?"

"Quite true, " answered the lieutenant in a low voice. 

"You and he had quarreled about the amount of money you spent?"

"Yes. "

"By his death you became the sole heir of your father, the general. Yourposition with the money-lenders was quite altered. Am I right?"

"I fancy so. "

"Last Thursday afternoon you went to the Army and Navy Stores andpurchased a revolver. You already had your service weapon, but to shoota man with a bullet from that would be to make the hunt of the policefor the murderer absurdly simple. "

The boy made no answer. 

"Let us suppose, " Bray went on, "that last Thursday evening at halfafter six you called on your brother in his rooms at Adelphi Terrace. There was an argument about money. You became enraged. You saw him andhim alone between you and the fortune you needed so badly. Then--I amonly supposing--you noticed on his table an odd knife he had broughtfrom India--safer--more silent--than a gun. You seized it--"

"Why suppose?" the boy broke in. "I'm not trying to conceal anything. You're right--I did it! I killed my brother! Now let us get the wholebusiness over as soon as may be. "

Into the face of Inspector Bray there came at that moment a look thathas puzzling me ever since--a look that has recurred to my mind againand again, --in the stress and storm of this eventful day. It was onlytoo evident that this confession came to him as a shock. I presume soeasy a victory seemed hollow to him; he was wishing the boy had put up afight. Policemen are probably like that. 

"My boy, " he said, "I am sorry for you. My course is clear. If you willgo with one of my men--"

It was at this point that the door of the inspector's room opened andColonel Hughes, cool and smiling, walked in. Bray chuckled at sight ofthe military man. 

"Ah, Colonel, " he cried, "you make a good entrance! This morning, when Idiscovered that I had the honor of having you associated with me in thesearch for the captain's murderer, you were foolish enough to make alittle wager--"

"I remember, " Hughes answered. "A scarab pin against--a Homburg hat. "

"Precisely, " said Bray. "You wagered that you, and not I, would discoverthe guilty man. Well, Colonel, you owe me a scarab. Lieutenant NormanFraser-Freer has just told me that he killed his brother, and I was onthe point of taking down his full confession. "

"Indeed!" replied Hughes calmly. "Interesting--most interesting! Butbefore we consider the wager lost--before you force the lieutenant toconfess in full--I should like the floor. "

"Certainly, " smiled Bray. 

"When you were kind enough to let me have two of your men this morning, "said Hughes, "I told you I contemplated the arrest of a lady. I havebrought that lady to Scotland Yard with me. " He stepped to thedoor, opened it and beckoned. A tall, blonde handsome woman of aboutthirty-five entered; and instantly to my nostrils came the pronouncedodor of lilacs. "Allow me, Inspector, " went on the colonel, "tointroduce to you the Countess Sophie de Graf, late of Berlin, late ofDelhi and Rangoon, now of 17 Leitrim Grove, Battersea Park Road. "

The woman faced Bray; and there was a terrified, hunted look in hereyes. 

"You are the inspector?" she asked. 

"I am, " said Bray. 

"And a man--I can see that, " she went on, her flashing angrily atHughes. "I appeal to you to protect me from the brutal questioning ofthis--this fiend. "

"You are hardly complimentary, Countess, " Hughes smiled. "But I amwilling to forgive you if you will tell the inspector the story that youhave recently related to me. "

The woman shut her lips tightly and for a long moment gazed into theeyes of Inspector Bray. 

"He"--she said at last, nodding in the direction of Colonel Hughes--"hegot it out of me--how, I don't know. "

"Got what out of you?" Bray's little eyes were blinking. 

"At six-thirty o'clock last Thursday evening, " said the woman, "I wentto the rooms of Captain Fraser-Freer, in Adelphi Terrace. An argumentarose. I seized from his table an Indian dagger that was lying there--Istabbed him just above the heart!"

In that room in Scotland Yard a tense silence fell. For the first timewe were all conscious of a tiny clock on the inspector's desk, for itticked now with a loudness sudden and startling. I gazed at the facesabout me. Bray's showed a momentary surprise--then the mask fell again. Lieutenant Fraser-Freer was plainly amazed. On the face of ColonelHughes I saw what struck me as an open sneer. 

"Go on, Countess, " he smiled. 

She shrugged her shoulders and turned toward him a disdainful back. Hereyes were all for Bray. 

"It's very brief, the story, " she said hastily--I thought almostapologetically. "I had known the captain in Rangoon. My husband was inbusiness there--an exporter of rice--and Captain Fraser-Freer came oftento our house. We--he was a charming man, the captain--"

"Go on!" ordered Hughes. 

"We fell desperately in love, " said the countess. "When he returnedto England, though supposedly on a furlough, he told me he would neverreturn to Rangoon. He expected a transfer to Egypt. So it was arrangedthat I should desert my husband and follow on the next boat. I didso--believing in the captain--thinking he really cared for me--I gave upeverything for him. And then--"

Her voice broke and she took out a handkerchief. Again that odor oflilacs in the room. 

"For a time I saw the captain often in London; and then I began tonotice a change. Back among his own kind, with the lonely days inIndia a mere memory--he seemed no longer to--to care for me. Then--lastThursday morning--he called on me to tell me that he was through; thathe would never see me again--in fact, that he was to marry a girl of hisown people who had been waiting--"

The woman looked piteously about at us. 

"I was desperate, " she pleaded. "I had given up all that life heldfor me--given it up for a man who now looked at me coldly and spokeof marrying another. Can you wonder that I went in the evening to hisrooms--went to plead with him--to beg, almost on my knees? It was nouse. He was done with me--he said that over and over. Overwhelmed withblind rage and despair, I snatched up that knife from the table andplunged it into his heart. At once I was filled with remorse. I--"

"One moment, " broke in Hughes. "You may keep the details of yoursubsequent actions until later. I should like to compliment you, Countess. You tell it better each time. "

He came over and faced Bray. I thought there was a distinct note ofhostility in his voice. 

"Checkmate, Inspector!" he said. Bray made no reply. He sat therestaring up at the colonel, his face turned to stone. 

"The scarab pin, " went on Hughes, "is not yet forthcoming. We are tiedfor honors, my friend. You have your confession, but I have one to matchit. "

"All this is beyond me, " snapped Bray. 

"A bit beyond me, too, " the colonel answered. "Here are two people whowish us to believe that on the evening of Thursday last, at half aftersix of the clock, each sought out Captain Fraser-Freer in his rooms andmurdered him. "

He walked to the window and then wheeled dramatically. 

"The strangest part of it all is, " he added, "that at six-thirtyo'clock last Thursday evening, at an obscure restaurant inSoho--Frigacci's--these two people were having tea together!"

I must admit that, as the colonel calmly offered this information, Isuddenly went limp all over at a realization of the endless maze ofmystery in which we were involved. The woman gave a little cry andLieutenant Fraser-Freer leaped to his feet. 

"How the devil do you know that?" he cried. 

"I know it, " said Colonel Hughes, "because one of my men happened to behaving tea at a table near by. He happened to be having tea there forthe reason that ever since the arrival of this lady in London, at therequest of--er--friends in India, I have been keeping track of her everymove; just as I kept watch over your late brother, the captain. "

Without a word Lieutenant Fraser-Freer dropped into a chair and buriedhis face in his hands. 

"I'm sorry, my son, " said Hughes. "Really, I am. You made a heroiceffort to keep the facts from coming out--a man's-size effort it was. But the War Office knew long before you did that your brother hadsuccumbed to this woman's lure--that he was serving her and Berlin, andnot his own country, England. "

Fraser-Freer raised his head. When he spoke there was in his voice anemotion vastly more sincere than that which had moved him when he madehis absurd confession. 

"The game's up, " he said. "I have done all I could. This will kill myfather, I am afraid. Ours has been an honorable name, Colonel; you knowthat--a long line of military men whose loyalty to their country hasnever before been in question. I thought my confession would and thewhole nasty business, that the investigations would stop, and thatI might be able to keep forever unknown this horrible thing abouthim--about my brother. "

Colonel Hughes laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and the latter wenton: "They reached me--those frightful insinuations about Stephen--in around about way; and when he came home from India I resolved to watchhim. I saw him go often to the house of this woman. I satisfied myselfthat she was the same one involved in the stories coming from Rangoon;then, under another name, I managed to meet her. I hinted to her thatI myself was none too loyal; not completely, but to a limited extent, I won her confidence. Gradually I became convinced that my brother wasindeed disloyal to his country, to his name, to us all. It was atthat tea time you have mentioned when I finally made up my mind. I hadalready bought a revolver; and, with it in my pocket, I went to theSavoy for dinner. "

He rose and paced the floor. 

"I left the Savoy early and went to Stephen's rooms. I was resolved tohave it out with him, to put the matter to him bluntly; and if he hadno explanation to give me I intended to kill him then and there. So, yousee, I was guilty in intention if not in reality. I entered his study. It was filled with strangers. On his sofa I saw my brother Stephenlying--stabbed above the heart--dead!" There was a moment's silence. "That is all, " said Lieutenant Fraser-Freer. 

"I take it, " said Hughes kindly, "that we have finished with thelieutenant. Eh, Inspector?"

"Yes, " said Bray shortly. "You may go. "

"Thank you, " the boy answered. As he went out he said brokenly toHughes: "I must find him--my father. "

Bray sat in his chair, staring hard ahead, his jaw thrust out angrily. Suddenly he turned on Hughes. 

"You don't play fair, " he said. "I wasn't told anything of the status ofthe captain at the War Office. This is all news to me. "

"Very well, " smiled Hughes. "The bet is off if you like. "

"No, by heaven!" Bray cried. "It's still on, and I'll win it yet. A finemorning's work I suppose you think you've done. But are we any nearer tofinding the murderer? Tell me that. "

"Only a bit nearer, at any rate, " replied Hughes suavely. "This lady, ofcourse, remains in custody. "

"Yes, yes, " answered the inspector. "Take her away!" he ordered. 

A constable came forward for the countess and Colonel Hughes gallantlyheld open the door. 

"You will have an opportunity, Sophie, " he said, "to think up anotherstory. You are clever--it will not be hard. "

She gave him a black look and went out. Bray got up from his desk. Heand Colonel Hughes stood facing each other across a table, and tome there was something in the manner of each that suggested eternalconflict. 

"Well?" sneered Bray. 

"There is one possibility we have overlooked, " Hughes answered. Heturned toward me and I was startled by the coldness in his eyes. "Do youknow, Inspector, " he went on, "that this American came to London witha letter of introduction to the captain--a letter from the captain'scousin, one Archibald Enwright? And do you know that Fraser-Freer had nocousin of that name?"

"No!" said Bray. 

"It happens to be the truth, " said Hughes. "The American has confessedas much to me. "

"Then, " said Bray to me, and his little blinking eyes were on me witha narrow calculating glance that sent the shivers up and down my spine, "you are under arrest. I have exempted you so far because of your friendat the United States Consulate. That exemption ends now. "

I was thunderstruck. I turned to the colonel, the man who had suggestedthat I seek him out if I needed a friend--the man I had looked to tosave me from just such a contingency as this. But his eyes were quitefishy and unsympathetic. 

"Quite correct, Inspector, " he said. "Lock him up!" And as I beganto protest he passed very close to me and spoke in a low voice: "Saynothing. Wait!"

I pleaded to be allowed to go back to my rooms, to communicate with myfriends, and pay a visit to our consulate and to the Embassy; and at thecolonel's suggestion Bray agreed to this somewhat irregular course. Sothis afternoon I have been abroad with a constable, and while I wrotethis long letter to you he has been fidgeting in my easy chair. Now heinforms me that his patience is exhausted and that I must go at once. Sothere is no time to wonder; no time to speculate as to the future, as tothe colonel's sudden turn against me or the promise of his whisper in myear. I shall, no doubt, spend the night behind those hideous, forbiddingwalls that your guide has pointed out to you as New Scotland Yard. Andwhen I shall write again, when I shall end this series of letters sofilled with--

The constable will not wait. He is as impatient as a child. Surely he islying when he says I have kept him here an hour. 

Wherever I am, dear lady, whatever be the end of this amazing tangle, you may be sure the thought of you--Confound the man!

YOURS, IN DURANCE VILE. 

This fifth letter from the young man of the Agony Column arrived at theCarlton Hotel, as the reader may recall, on Monday morning, Augustthe third. And it represented to the girl from Texas the climax of theexcitement she had experienced in the matter of the murder in AdelphiTerrace. The news that her pleasant young friend--whom she did notknow--had been arrested as a suspect in the case, inevitable as it hadseemed for days, came none the less as an unhappy shock. She wonderedwhether there was anything she could do to help. She even consideredgoing to Scotland Yard and, on the ground that her father was aCongressman from Texas, demanding the immediate release of herstrawberry man. Sensibly, however, she decided that Congressmen fromTexas meant little in the life of the London police. Besides, she nighthave difficulty in explaining to that same Congressman how she happenedto know all about a crime that was as yet unmentioned in the newspapers. 

So she reread the latter portion of the fifth letter, which pictured herhero marched off ingloriously to Scotland Yard and with a worried littlesigh, went below to join her father. 

CHAPTER VII

In the course of the morning she made several mysterious inquiries ofher parent regarding nice points of international law as it concernedmurder, and it is probable that he would have been struck by the oddnature of these questions had he not been unduly excited about anothermatter. 

"I tell you, we've got to get home!" he announced gloomily. "The Germantroops are ready at Aix-la-Chapelle for an assault on Liege. Yes, sir--they're going to strike through Belgium! Know what that means?England in the war! Labor troubles; suffragette troubles; civil war inIreland--these things will melt away as quickly as that snow we hadlastwinter in Texas. They'll go in. It would be national suicide if theydidn't. "

His daughter stared at him. She was unaware that it was the bootblackat the Carlton he was now quoting. She began to think he knew more aboutforeign affairs than she had given him credit for. 

"Yes, sir, " he went on; "we've got to travel--fast. This won't be ahealthy neighborhood for non-combatants when the ruction starts. I'mgoing if I have to buy a liner!"

"Nonsense!" said the girl. "This is the chance of a lifetime. I won'tbe cheated out of it by a silly old dad. Why, here we are, face to facewith history!"

"American history is good enough for me, " he spread-eagled. "What areyou looking at?"

"Provincial to the death!" she said thoughtfully. "You old dear--I loveyou so! Some of our statesmen over home are going to look pretty foolishnow in the face of things they can't understand, I hope you're not goingto be one of them. "

"Twaddle!" he cried. "I'm going to the steamship offices to-day andargue as I never argued for a vote. "

His daughter saw that he was determined; and, wise from long experience, she did not try to dissuade him. 

London that hot Monday was a city on the alert, a city of hearts heavywith dread. The rumors in one special edition of the papers were deniedin the next and reaffirmed in the next. Men who could look into thefuture walked the streets with faces far from happy. Unrest ruled thetown. And it found its echo in the heart of the girl from Texas as shethought of her young friend of the Agony Column "in durance vile" behindthe frowning walls of Scotland Yard. 

That afternoon her father appeared, with the beaming mien of the victor, and announced that for a stupendous sum he had bought the tickets of aman who was to have sailed on the steamship Saronia three days hence. 

"The boat train leaves at ten Thursday morning, " he said. "Take yourlast look at Europe and be ready. "

Three days! His daughter listened with sinking heart. Could she in threedays' time learn the end of that strange mystery, know the final fateof the man who had first addressed her so unconventionally in a publicprint? Why, at the end of three days he might still be in Scotland Yard, a prisoner! She could not leave if that were true--she simply could not. Almost she was on the point of telling her father the story of the wholeaffair, confident that she could soothe his anger and enlist his aid. She decided to wait until the next morning; and, if no letter camethen--

But on Tuesday morning a letter did come and the beginning of it broughtpleasant news. The beginning--yes. But the end! This was the letter:

DEAR ANXIOUS LADY: Is it too much for me to assume that you have beenjust that, knowing as you did that I was locked up for the murder of acaptain in the Indian Army, with the evidence all against me and hope avery still small voice indeed?

Well, dear lady, be anxious no longer. I have just lived through themost astounding day of all the astounding days that have been my portionsince last Thursday. And now, in the dusk, I sit again in my rooms, afree man, and write to you in what peace and quiet I can command afterthe startling adventure through which I have recently passed. 

Suspicion no longer points to me; constables no longer eye me; ScotlandYard is not even slightly interested in me. For the murderer of CaptainFraser-Freer has been caught at last!

Sunday night I spent ingloriously in a cell in Scotland Yard. I couldnot sleep. I had so much to think of--you, for example, and at intervalshow I might escape from the folds of the net that had closed so tightlyabout me. My friend at the consulate, Watson, called on me late inthe evening; and he was very kind. But there was a note lacking inhis voice, and after he was gone the terrible certainty came into mymind--he believed that I was guilty after all. 

The night passed, and a goodly portion of to-day went by--as the poetssay--with lagging feet. I thought of London, yellow in the sun. Ithought of the Carlton--I suppose there are no more strawberries by thistime. And my waiter--that stiff-backed Prussian--is home in Deutschlandnow, I presume, marching with his regiment. I thought of you. 

At three o'clock this afternoon they came for me and I was led backto the room belonging to Inspector Bray. When I entered, however, the inspector was not there--only Colonel Hughes, immaculate andself-possessed, as usual, gazing out the window into the cheerlessstone court. He turned when I entered. I suppose I must have had a mostwoebegone appearance, for a look of regret crossed his face. 

"My dear fellow, " he cried, "my most humble apologies! I intended tohave you released last night. But, believe me, I have been frightfullybusy. "

I said nothing. What could I say? The fact that he had been busy struckme as an extremely silly excuse. But the inference that my escape fromthe toils of the law was imminent set my heart to thumping. 

"I fear you can never forgive me for throwing you over as I didyesterday, " he went on. "I can only say that it was absolutelynecessary--as you shall shortly understand. "

I thawed a bit. After all, there was an unmistakable sincerity in hisvoice and manner. 

"We are waiting for Inspector Bray, " continued the colonel. "I take ityou wish to see this thing through?"

"To the end, " I answered. 

"Naturally. The inspector was called away yesterday immediately afterour interview with him. He had business on the Continent, I understand. But fortunately I managed to reach him at Dover and he has come backto London. I wanted him, you see, because I have found the murderer ofCaptain Fraser-Freer. "

I thrilled to hear that, for from my point of view it was certainly aconsummation devoutly to be wished. The colonel did not speak again. Ina few minutes the door opened and Bray came in. His clothes looked asthough he had slept in them; his little eyes were bloodshot. But inthose eyes there was a fire I shall never forget. Hughes bowed. 

"Good afternoon, Inspector, " he said. "I'm really sorry I had tointerrupt you as I did; but I most awfully wanted you to know that youowe me a Homburg hat. " He went closer to the detective. "You see, I havewon that wager. I have found the man who murdered Captain Fraser-Freer. "

Curiously enough, Bray said nothing. He sat down at his desk and idlyglanced through the pile of mail that lay upon it. Finally he looked upand said in a weary tone:

"You're very clever, I'm sure, Colonel Hughes. "

"Oh--I wouldn't say that, " replied Hughes. "Luck was with me--from thefirst. I am really very glad to have been of service in the matter, forI am convinced that if I had not taken part in the search it would havegone hard with some innocent man. "

Bray's big pudgy hands still played idly with the mail on his desk. Hughes went on: "Perhaps, as a clever detective, you will be interestedin the series of events which enabled me to win that Homburg hat? Youhave heard, no doubt, that the man I have caught is Von der Herts--tenyears ago the best secret-service man in the employ of the Berlingovernment, but for the past few years mysteriously missing from ourline of vision. We've been wondering about him--at the War Office. "

The colonel dropped into a chair, facing Bray. 

"You know Von der Herts, of course?" he remarked casually. 

"Of course, " said Bray, still in that dead tired voice. 

"He is the head of that crowd in England, " went on Hughes. "Rather afeather in my cap to get him--but I mustn't boast. Poor Fraser-Freerwould have got him if I hadn't--only Von der Herts had the luck to getthe captain first. "

Bray raised his eyes. 

"You said you were going to tell me--" he began. 

"And so I am, " said Hughes. "Captain Fraser-Freer got in rather amess in India and failed of promotion. It was suspected that he wasdiscontented, soured on the Service; and the Countess Sophie de Graf wasset to beguile him with her charms, to kill his loyalty and win him overto her crowd. 

"It was thought she had succeeded--the Wilhelmstrasse thought so--we atthe War Office thought so, as long as he stayed in India. 

"But when the captain and the woman came on to London we discovered thatwe had done him a great injustice. He let us know, when the first chanceoffered, that he was trying to redeem himself, to round up a dangerousband of spies by pretending to be one of them. He said that it was hismission in London to meet Von der Herts, the greatest of them all; andthat, once he had located this man, we would hear from him again. In theweeks that followed I continued to keep a watch on the countess; and Ikept track of the captain, too, in a general way, for I'm ashamed to sayI was not quite sure of him. "

The colonel got up and walked to the window; then turned and continued:"Captain Fraser-Freer and Von der Herts were completely unknown toeach other. The mails were barred as a means of communication; butFraser-Freer knew that in some way word from the master would reach him, and he had had a tip to watch the personal column of the Daily Mail. Nowwe have the explanation of those four odd messages. From that columnthe man from Rangoon learned that he was to wear a white aster in hisbutton-hole, a scarab pin in his tie, a Homburg hat on his head, andmeet Von der Herts at Ye Old Gambrinus Restaurant in Regent Street, lastThursday night at ten o'clock. As we know, he made all arrangements tocomply with those directions. He made other arrangements as well. Sinceit was out of the question for him to come to Scotland Yard, by skillfulmaneuvering he managed to interview an inspector of police at the HotelCecil. It was agreed that on Thursday night Von der Herts would beplaced under arrest the moment he made himself known to the captain. "

Hughes paused. Bray still idled with his pile of letters, while thecolonel regarded him gravely. 

"Poor Fraser-Freer!" Hughes went on. "Unfortunately for him, Von derHerts knew almost as soon as did the inspector that a plan was afoot totrap him. There was but one course open to him: He located the captain'slodgings, went there at seven that night, and killed a loyal and braveEnglishman where he stood. "

A tense silence filled the room. I sat on the edge of my chair, wondering just where all this unwinding of the tangle was leading us. 

"I had little, indeed, to work on, " went on Hughes. "But I had thisadvantage: the spy thought the police, and the police alone, wereseeking the murderer. He was at no pains to throw me off his track, because he did not suspect that I was on it. For weeks my men had beenwatching the countess. I had them continue to do so. I figured thatsooner or later Von der Herts would get in touch with her. I was right. And when at last I saw with my own eyes the man who must, beyond allquestion, be Von der Herts, I was astounded, my dear Inspector, I wasoverwhelmed. "

"Yes?" said Bray. 

"I set to work then in earnest to connect him with that night in AdelphiTerrace. All the finger marks in the captain's study were for somereason destroyed, but I found others outside, in the dust on thatseldom-used gate which leads from the garden. Without his knowing, I secured from the man I suspected the imprint of his right thumb. Acomparison was startling. Next I went down into Fleet Street and luckilymanaged to get hold of the typewritten copy sent to the Mail bearingthose four messages. I noticed that in these the letter a was outof alignment. I maneuvered to get a letter written on a typewriterbelonging to my man. The a was out of alignment. Then ArchibaldEnwright, a renegade and waster well known to us as serving othercountries, came to England. My man and he met--at Ye Old Gambrinus, inRegent Street. And finally, on a visit to the lodgings of this man who, I was now certain, was Von der Herts, under the mattress of his bed Ifound this knife. "

And Colonel Hughes threw down upon the inspector's desk the knife fromIndia that I had last seen in the study of Captain Fraser-Freer. 

"All these points of evidence were in my hands yesterday morning inthis room, " Hughes went on. "Still, the answer they gave me was sounbelievable, so astounding, I was not satisfied; I wanted even strongerproof. That is why I directed suspicion to my American friend here. Iwas waiting. I knew that at last Von der Herts realized the danger hewas in. I felt that if opportunity were offered he would attemptto escape from England; and then our proofs of his guilt would beunanswerable, despite his cleverness. True enough, in the afternoon hesecured the release of the countess, and together they started for theContinent. I was lucky enough to get him at Dover--and glad to let thelady go on. "

And now, for the first time, the startling truth struck me full in theface as Hughes smiled down at his victim. 

"Inspector Bray, " he said, "or Von der Herts, as you choose, I arrestyou on two counts: First, as the head of the Wilhelmstrasse spy systemin England; second, as the murderer of Captain Fraser-Freer. And, if youwill allow me, I wish to compliment you on your efficiency. "

Bray did not reply for a moment. I sat numb in my chair. Finally theinspector looked up. He actually tried to smile. 

"You win the hat, " he said, "but you must go to Homburg for it. I willgladly pay all expenses. "

"Thank you, " answered Hughes. "I hope to visit your country before long;but I shall not be occupied with hats. Again I congratulate you. Youwere a bit careless, but your position justified that. As head of thedepartment at Scotland Yard given over to the hunt for spies, precautiondoubtless struck you as unnecessary. How unlucky for poor Fraser-Freerthat it was to you he went to arrange for your own arrest! I got thatinformation from a clerk at the Cecil. You were quite right, from yourpoint of view, to kill him. And, as I say, you could afford to be ratherreckless. You had arranged that when the news of his murder came toScotland Yard you yourself would be on hand to conduct the search forthe guilty man. A happy situation, was it not?"

"It seemed so at the time, " admitted Bray; and at last I thought Idetected a note of bitterness in his voice. 

"I'm very sorry--really, " said Hughes. "To-day, or to-morrow at thelatest, England will enter the war. You know what that means, Von derHerts. The Tower of London--and a firing squad!"

Deliberately he walked away from the inspector, and stood facing thewindow. Von der Herts was fingering idly that Indian knife which lay onhis desk. With a quick hunted look about the room, he raised his hand;and before I could leap forward to stop him he had plunged the knifeinto his heart. 

Colonel Hughes turned round at my cry, but even at what met his eyes nowthat Englishman was imperturbable. 

"Too bad!" he said. "Really too bad! The man had courage and, beyondall doubt, brains. But--this is most considerate of him. He has saved mesuch a lot of trouble. "

The colonel effected my release at once; and he and I walked downWhitehall together in the bright sun that seemed so good to me after thebleak walls of the Yard. Again he apologized for turning suspicion myway the previous day; but I assured him I held no grudge for that. 

"One or two things I do not understand, " I said. "That letter I broughtfrom Interlaken--"

"Simple enough, " he replied. "Enwright--who, by the way, is now in theTower--wanted to communicate with Fraser-Freer, who he supposed was aloyal member of the band. Letters sent by post seemed dangerous. Withyour kind assistance he informed the captain of his whereabouts and thedate of his imminent arrival in London. Fraser-Freer, not wanting youentangled in his plans, eliminated you by denying the existence of thiscousin--the truth, of course. "

"Why, " I asked, "did the countess call on me to demand that I alter mytestimony?"

"Bray sent her. He had rifled Fraser-Freer's desk and he held thatletter from Enwright. He was most anxious to fix the guilt upon theyoung lieutenant's head. You and your testimony as to the hour of thecrime stood in the way. He sought to intimidate you with threats--"

"But--"

"I know--you are wondering why the countess confessed to me next day. I had the woman in rather a funk. In the meshes of my rapid-firequestioning she became hopelessly involved. This was because she wassuddenly terrified she realized I must have been watching her for weeks, and that perhaps Von der Herts was not so immune from suspicion as hesupposed. At the proper moment I suggested that I might have to take herto Inspector Bray. This gave her an idea. She made her fake confessionto reach his side; once there, she warned him of his danger and theyfled together. "

We walked along a moment in silence. All about us the lurid specialeditions of the afternoon were flaunting their predictions of the horrorto come. The face of the colonel was grave. 

"How long had Von der Herts held his position at the Yard?" I asked. 

"For nearly five years, " Hughes answered. 

"It seems incredible, " I murmured. 

"So it does, " he answered; "but it is only the first of many incrediblethings that this war will reveal. Two months from now we shall all haveforgotten it in the face of new revelations far more unbelievable. " Hesighed. "If these men about us realized the terrible ordeal thatlies ahead! Misgoverned; unprepared--I shudder at the thought of thesacrifices we must make, many of them in vain. But I suppose thatsomehow, some day, we shall muddle through. "

He bade me good-by in Trafalgar Square, saying that he must at onceseek out the father and brother of the late captain, and tell them thenews--that their kinsman was really loyal to his country. 

"It will come to them as a ray of light in the dark--my news, " he said. "And now, thank you once again. "

We parted and I came back here to my lodgings. The mystery is finallysolved, though in such a way it is difficult to believe that it wasanything but a nightmare at any time. But solved none the less; and Ishould be at peace, except for one great black fact that haunts me, willnot let me rest. I must tell you, dear lady--And yet I fear it means theend of everything. If only I can make you understand!

I have walked my floor, deep in thought, in puzzlement, in indecision. Now I have made up my mind. There is no other way--I must tell you thetruth. 

Despite the fact that Bray was Von der Herts; despite the fact thathe killed himself at the discovery--despite this and that, andeverything--Bray did not kill Captain Fraser-Freer!

On last Thursday evening, at a little after seven o'clock, I myselfclimbed the stairs, entered the captain's rooms, picked up that knifefrom his desk, and stabbed him just above the heart!

What provocation I was under, what stern necessity moved me--all thisyou must wait until to-morrow to know. I shall spend another anxious daypreparing my defense, hoping that through some miracle of mercy you mayforgive me--understand that there was nothing else I could do. 

Do not judge, dear lady, until you know everything--until all myevidence is in your lovely hands. 

YOURS, IN ALL HUMILITY. 

The first few paragraphs of this the sixth and next to the last letterfrom the Agony Column man had brought a smile of relief to the face ofthe girl who read. She was decidedly glad to learn that her friend nolonger languished back of those gray walls on Victoria Embankment. Withexcitement that increased as she went along, she followed Colonel Hughesas--in the letter--he moved nearer and nearer his denouement, untilfinally his finger pointed to Inspector Bray sitting guilty in hischair. This was an eminently satisfactory solution, and it served theinspector right for locking up her friend. Then, with the suddennessof a bomb from a Zeppelin, came, at the end, her strawberry man'sconfession of guilt. He was the murderer, after all! He admitted it! Shecould scarcely believe her eyes. 

Yet there it was, in ink as violet as those eyes, on the note paper thathad become so familiar to her during the thrilling week just past. Sheread it a second time, and yet a third. Her amazement gave way to anger;her cheeks flamed. Still--he had asked her not to judge until all hisevidence was in. This was a reasonable request surely, and she could notin fairness refuse to grant it. 

CHAPTER VIII

So began an anxious day, not only for the girl from Texas but for allLondon as well. Her father was bursting with new diplomatic secretsrecently extracted from his bootblack adviser. Later, in Washington, hewas destined to be a marked man because of his grasp of the situationabroad. No one suspected the bootblack, the power behind the throne;but the gentleman from Texas was destined to think of that able diplomatmany times, and to wish that he still had him at his feet to advise him. 

"War by midnight, sure!" he proclaimed on the morning of this fatefulTuesday. "I tell you, Marian, we're lucky to have our tickets on theSaronia. Five thousand dollars wouldn't buy them from me to-day! I'll bea happy man when we go aboard that liner day after to-morrow. "

Day after to-morrow! The girl wondered. At any rate, she would have thatlast letter then--the letter that was to contain whatever defenseher young friend could offer to explain his dastardly act. She waitedeagerly for that final epistle. 

The day dragged on, bringing at its close England's entrance into thewar; and the Carlton bootblack was a prophet not without honor in acertain Texas heart. And on the following morning there arrived a letterwhich was torn open by eager trembling fingers. The letter spoke:

DEAR LADY JUDGE: This is by far the hardest to write of all the lettersyou have had from me. For twenty-four hours I have been planning it. Last night I walked on the Embankment while the hansoms jogged by andthe lights of the tramcars danced on Westminster Bridge just as thefireflies used to in the garden back of our house in Kansas. While Iwalked I planned. To-day, shut up in my rooms, I was also planning. Andyet now, when I sit down to write, I am still confused; still at a losswhere to begin and what to say, once I have begun. 

At the close of my last letter I confessed to you that it was I whomurdered Captain Fraser-Freer. That is the truth. Soften the blow as Imay, it all comes down to that. The bitter truth!

Not a week ago--last Thursday night at seven--I climbed our dark stairsand plunged a knife into the heart of that defenseless gentleman. Ifonly I could point out to you that he had offended me in some way; if Icould prove to you that his death was necessary to me, as it reallywas to Inspector Bray--then there might be some hope of your ultimatepardon. But, alas! he had been most kind to me--kinder than I haveallowed you to guess from my letters. There was no actual need to doaway with him. Where shall I look for a defense?

At the moment the only defense I can think of is simply this--thecaptain knows I killed him!

Even as I write this, I hear his footsteps above me, as I heard themwhen I sat here composing my first letter to you. He is dressing fordinner. We are to dine together at Romano's. 

And there, my lady, you have finally the answer to the mystery thathas--I hope--puzzled you. I killed my friend the captain in my secondletter to you, and all the odd developments that followed lived only inmy imagination as I sat here beside the green-shaded lamp in my study, plotting how I should write seven letters to you that would, as thenovel advertisements say, grip your attention to the very end. Oh, I amguilty--there is no denying that. And, though I do not wish to ape oldAdam and imply that I was tempted by a lovely woman, a strict regard forthe truth forces me to add that there is also guilt upon your head. How so? Go back to that message you inserted in the Daily Mail: "Thegrapefruit lady's great fondness for mystery and romance--"

You did not know it, of course; but in those words you passed me achallenge I could not resist; for making plots is the business oflife--more, the breath of life--to me. I have made many; and perhaps youhave followed some of them, on Broadway. Perhaps you have seen a play ofmine announced for early production in London. There was mention of itin the program at the Palace. That was the business which kept me inEngland. The project has been abandoned now and I am free to go backhome. 

Thus you see that when you granted me the privilege of those sevenletters you played into my hands. So, said I, she longs for mystery andromance. Then, by the Lord Harry, she shall have them!

And it was the tramp of Captain Fraser-Freer's boots above my head thatshowed me the way. A fine, stalwart, cordial fellow--the captain--whohas been very kind to me since I presented my letter of introductionfrom his cousin, Archibald Enwright. Poor Archie! A meek, correct littlesoul, who would be horrified beyond expression if he knew that of him Ihad made a spy and a frequenter of Limehouse!

The dim beginnings of the plot were in my mind when I wrote that firstletter, suggesting that all was not regular in the matter of Archie'snote of introduction. Before I wrote my second, I knew that nothing butthe death of Fraser-Freer would do me. I recalled that Indian knife Ihad seen upon his desk, and from that moment he was doomed. At thattime I had no idea how I should solve the mystery. But I had read andwondered at those four strange messages in the Mail, and I resolved thatthey must figure in the scheme of things. 

The fourth letter presented difficulties until I returned from dinnerthat night and saw a taxi waiting before our quiet house. Hencethe visit of the woman with the lilac perfume. I am afraid theWilhelmstrasse would have little use for a lady spy who advertisedherself in so foolish a manner. Time for writing the fifth letterarrived. I felt that I should now be placed under arrest. I had a faintlittle hope that you would be sorry about that. Oh, I'm a brute, I know!

Early in the game I had told the captain of the cruel way in which I haddisposed of him. He was much amused; but he insisted, absolutely, thathe must be vindicated before the close of the series, and I was with himthere. He had been so bully about it all. A chance remark of his gave memy solution. He said he had it on good authority that the chief ofthe Czar's bureau for capturing spies in Russia was himself a spy. Andso--why not a spy in Scotland Yard?

I assure you, I am most contrite as I set all this down here. You mustremember that when I began my story there was no idea of war. Now allEurope is aflame; and in the face of the great conflict, the awfulsuffering to come, I and my little plot begin to look--well, I fancy youknow just how we look. 

Forgive me. I am afraid I can never find the words to tell you howimportant it seemed to interest you in my letters--to make you feel thatI am an entertaining person worthy of your notice. That morning when youentered the Carlton breakfast room was really the biggest in my life. Ifelt as though you had brought with you through that doorway--But I haveno right to say it. I have the right to say nothing save that now--itis all left to you. If I have offended, then I shall never hear from youagain. 

The captain will be here in a moment. It is near the hour set and he isnever late. He is not to return to India, but expects to be drafted forthe Expeditionary Force that will be sent to the Continent. I hope theGerman Army will be kinder to him than I was!

My name is Geoffrey West. I live at nineteen Adelphi Terrace--in roomsthat look down on the most wonderful garden in London. That, atleast, is real. It is very quiet there to-night, with the city and itscontinuous hum of war and terror seemingly a million miles away. 

Shall we meet at last? The answer rests entirely with you. But, believeme, I shall be anxiously waiting to know; and if you decide to give me achance to explain--to denounce myself to you in person--then a happy manwill say good-by to this garden and these dim dusty rooms and follow youto the ends of the earth--aye, to Texas itself!

Captain Fraser-Freer is coming down the stairs. Is this good-by forever, my lady? With all my soul, I hope not. 

YOUR CONTRITE STRAWBERRY MAN. 

CHAPTER IX

Words are futile things with which to attempt a description of thefeelings of the girl at the Carlton as she read this, the last letterof seven written to her through the medium of her maid, Sadie Haight. Turning the pages of the dictionary casually, one might enlist afew--for example, amazement, anger, unbelief, wonder. Perhaps, to goback to the letter a, even amusement. We may leave her with the solutionto the puzzle in her hand, the Saronia a little more than a day away, and a weirdly mixed company of emotions struggling in her soul. 

And leaving her thus, let us go back to Adelphi Terrace and a young manexceedingly worried. 

Once he knew that his letter was delivered, Mr. Geoffrey West took hisplace most humbly on the anxious seat. There he writhed through the longhours of Wednesday morning. Not to prolong this painful picture, let ushasten to add that at three o'clock that same afternoon came a telegramthat was to end suspense. He tore it open and read:

STRAWBERRY MAN: I shall never, never forgive, you. But we are sailingtomorrow on the Saronia. Were you thinking of going home soon? MARIAN A. LARNED. 

Thus it happened that, a few minutes later, to the crowd of troubledAmericans in a certain steamship booking office there was added awild-eyed young man who further upset all who saw him. To weary clerkshe proclaimed in fiery tones that he must sail on the Saronia. Thereseemed to be no way of appeasing him. The offer of a private liner wouldnot have interested him. 

He raved and tore his hair. He ranted. All to no avail. There was, inplain American, "nothing doing!"

Damp but determined, he sought among the crowd for one who had bookingson the Saronia. He could find, at first, no one so lucky; but finally heran across Tommy Gray. Gray, an old friend, admitted when pressed thathe had a passage on that most desirable boat. But the offer of all theking's horses and all the king's gold left him unmoved. Much, he said, as he would have liked to oblige, he and his wife were determined. Theywould sail. 

It was then that Geoffrey West made a compact with his friend. Hesecured from him the necessary steamer labels and it was arranged thathis baggage was to go aboard the Saronia as the property of Gray. 

"But, " protested Gray, "even suppose you do put this through; supposeyou do manage to sail without a ticket--where will you sleep? In chainssomewhere below, I fancy. "

"No matter!" bubbled West. "I'll sleep in the dining saloon, in alifeboat, on the lee scuppers--whatever they are. I'll sleep in theair, without any visible support! I'll sleep anywhere--nowhere--but I'llsail! And as for irons--they don't make 'em strong enough to hold me. "

At five o'clock on Thursday afternoon the Saronia slipped smoothly awayfrom a Liverpool dock. Twenty-five hundred Americans--about twice thenumber the boat could comfortably carry--stood on her decks and cheered. Some of those in that crowd who had millions of money were bookedfor the steerage. All of them were destined to experience during thatcrossing hunger, annoyance, discomfort. They were to be stepped on, saton, crowded and jostled. They suspected as much when the boat left thedock. Yet they cheered!

Gayest among them was Geoffrey West, triumphant amid the confusion. Hewas safely aboard; the boat was on its way! Little did it trouble himthat he went as a stowaway, since he had no ticket; nothing but anoverwhelming determination to be on the good ship Saronia. 

That night as the Saronia stole along with all deck lights out and everyporthole curtained, West saw on the dim deck the slight figure of agirl who meant much to him. She was standing staring out over the blackwaters; and, with wildly beating heart, he approached her, not knowingwhat to say, but feeling that a start must be made somehow. 

"Please pardon me for addressing--" he began. "But I want to tell you--"

She turned, startled; and then smiled an odd little smile, which hecould not see in the dark. 

"I beg your pardon, " she said. "I haven't met you, that I recall--"

"I know, " he answered. "That's going to be arranged to-morrow. Mrs. Tommy Gray says you crossed with them--"

"Mere steamer acquaintances, " the girl replied coldly. 

"Of course! But Mrs. Gray is a darling--she'll fix that all right. Ijust want to say, before to-morrow comes--"

"Wouldn't it be better to wait?"

"I can't! I'm on this ship without a ticket. I've got to go down in aminute and tell the purser that. Maybe he'll throw me overboard; maybehe'll lock me up. I don't know what they do with people like me. Maybethey'll make a stoker of me. And then I shall have to stoke, with nochance of seeing you again. So that's why I want to say now--I'm sorryI have such a keen imagination. It carried me away--really it did!I didn't mean to deceive you with those letters; but, once I gotstarted--You know, don't you, that I love you with all my heart? Fromthe moment you came into the Carlton that morning I--"

"Really--Mr. --Mr. --"

"West--Geoffrey West. I adore you! What can I do to prove it? I'm goingto prove it--before this ship docks in the North River. Perhaps I'dbetter talk to your father, and tell him about the Agony Column andthose seven letters--"

"You'd better not! He's in a terribly bad humor. The dinner was awful, and the steward said we'd be looking back to it and calling it a banquetbefore the voyage ends. Then, too, poor dad says he simply can not sleepin the stateroom they've given him--"

"All the better! I'll see him at once. If he stands for me now he'llstand for me any time! And, before I go down and beard a harsh-lookingpurser in his den, won't you believe me when I say I'm deeply in love--"

"In love with mystery and romance! In love with your own remarkablepowers of invention! Really, I can't take you seriously--"

"Before this voyage is ended you'll have to. I'll prove to you that Icare. If the purser lets me go free--"

"You have much to prove, " the girl smiled. "To-morrow--when Mrs. TommyGray introduces us--I may accept you--as a builder of plots. I happento know you are good. But--as--It's too silly! Better go and have it outwith that purser. "

Reluctantly he went. In five minutes he was back. The girl was stillstanding by the rail. 

"It's all right!" West said. "I thought I was doing something original, but there were eleven other people in the same fix. One of them is abillionaire from Wall Street. The purser collected some money from usand told us to sleep on the deck--if we could find room. "

"I'm sorry, " said the girl. "I rather fancied you in the role ofstoker. " She glanced about her at the dim deck. "Isn't this exciting?I'm sure this voyage is going to be filled with mystery and romance. "

"I know it will be full of romance, " West answered. "And the mysterywill be--can I convince you--"

"Hush!" broke in the girl. "Here comes father! I shall be very happy tomeet you--to-morrow. Poor dad! he's looking for a place to sleep. "

Five days later poor dad, having slept each night on deck in his clotheswhile the ship plowed through a cold drizzle, and having starved ina sadly depleted dining saloon, was a sight to move the heart ofa political opponent. Immediately after a dinner that had scarcelysatisfied a healthy Texas appetite he lounged gloomily in the deck chairwhich was now his stateroom. Jauntily Geoffrey West came and sat at hisside. 

"Mr. Larned, " he said, "I've got something for you. "

And, with a kindly smile, he took from his pocket and handed over alarge, warm baked potato. The Texan eagerly accepted the gift. 

"Where'd you get it?" he demanded, breaking open his treasure. 

"That's a secret, " West answered. "But I can get as many as I want. Mr. Larned, I can say this--you will not go hungry any longer. And there'ssomething else I ought to speak of. I am sort of aiming to marry yourdaughter. "

Deep in his potato the Congressman spoke:

"What does she say about it?"

"Oh, she says there isn't a chance. But--"

"Then look out, my boy! She's made up her mind to have you. "

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I really ought to tell you who I am. Also, I want you to know that, before your daughter and I met, I wroteher seven letters--"

"One minute, " broke in the Texan. "Before you go into all that, won'tyou be a good fellow and tell me where you got this potato?"

West nodded. 

"Sure!" he said; and, leaning over, he whispered. 

For the first time in days a smile appeared on the face of the olderman. 

"My boy, " he said, "I feel I'm going to like you. Never mind the rest. I heard all about you from your friend Gray; and as for thoseletters--they were the only thing that made the first part of this tripbearable. Marian gave them to me to read the night we came on board. "

Suddenly from out of the clouds a long-lost moon appeared, and bathedthat over-crowded ocean liner in a flood of silver. West left the oldman to his potato and went to find the daughter. 

She was standing in the moonlight by the rail of the forward deck, hereyes staring dreamily ahead toward the great country that had sent herforth light-heartedly for to adventure and to see. She turned as Westcame up. 

"I have just been talking with your father, " he said. "He tells me hethinks you mean to take me, after all. "

She laughed. "To-morrow night, " she answered, "will be our last onboard. I shall give you my final decision then. "

"But that is twenty-four hours away! Must I wait so long as that?"

"A little suspense won't hurt you. I can't forget those long days when Iwaited for your letters--"

"I know! But can't you give me--just a little hint--here--to-night?"

"I am without mercy--absolutely without mercy!"

And then, as West's fingers closed over her hand, she added softly:"Not even the suspicion of a hint, my dear--except to tell you that--myanswer will be--yes. "