THE STRETTON STREET AFFAIR

 BY

 WILLIAM LE QUEUX

 AUTHOR OF "THE DOCTOR OF PIMLICO, " "THE INTRIGUERS, " "MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO"

 NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY

 COPYRIGHT, 1922 BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX

 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

 THE DOCTOR OF PIMLICO THE INTRIGUERS MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO

[Illustration: "Gabrielle, my poor niece, " he cried. "She'sdead--dead!"]

CONTENTS

 PAGE

 PROLOGUE 11

 CHAPTER

 I INTRODUCES OSWALD DE GEX 20

 II THE SISTER'S STORY 37

 III WHO WAS GABRIELLE ENGLEDUE? 48

 IV FACING THE MUSIC 59

 V THE CITY OF THE LILY 69

 VI ANOTHER PUZZLE 80

 VII THE MILLIONAIRE'S APPREHENSIONS 91

 VIII LITTLE MRS. CULLERTON 102

 IX SOME PLAIN SPEAKING 113

 X MONSIEUR SUZOR AGAIN 122

 XI THE ABSOLUTE FACTS 132

 XII "RED, GREEN AND GOLD!" 143

 XIII SOME INTERESTING REVELATIONS 153

 XIV THE GATE OF THE SUN 163

 XV THE INTRUDER 172

 XVI ANOTHER STRANGE DISCLOSURE 182

 XVII WHAT THE PROFESSOR FOUND 192

 XVIII MORE ABOUT THE MYSTERY-MAN 202

 XIX THE TRACK OF DESPUJOL 212

 XX MADEMOISELLE JACQUELOT 222

 XXI AT THE HÔTEL LUXEMBOURG 232

 XXII GABRIELLE AT HOME 243

 XXIII THE DEATH-DRUG 253

 XXIV YET ANOTHER MYSTERY 263

 XXV WHAT THE VALET KNEW 272

 XXVI MORE ABOUT MATEO SANZ 284

 XXVII A CURIOUS STORY 293

 XXVIII LOVE THE CONQUEROR 299

 XXIX ANOTHER PLOT 311

 CONCLUSION 316

THE STRETTON STREET AFFAIR

PROLOGUE

IS ABOUT MYSELF

The whole circumstances of the Stretton Street Affair were socomplicated and so amazing from start to finish that, had the factsbeen related to me, I confess I should never have for a moment giventhem credence. 

That they were hard, undeniable facts, presenting a problem bothstartling and sensational, the reader will quickly learn from thisstraightforward narrative--an open confession of what actuallyoccurred. 

In all innocence, and certainly without any desire to achieve thatephemeral notoriety which accrues from having one's portrait in thepictorial press and being besieged by interviewers in search of a"story, " I found myself, without seeking adventure, one of the chiefactors in a drama which was perhaps one of the strangest and mostastounding of this our twentieth century. 

I almost hesitate to set down the true facts, so utterly amazing arethey. Indeed, as I sit in the silence of this old brown room in alow-built and timbered Surrey farmhouse, with pen and paper before me, I feel that it is only by a miracle that I have been spared to narrateone of the most complex and ingenious plots which the human mind, with malice aforethought, ever conceived. 

I ought, I suppose, in opening to tell you something concerningmyself. Hugh Garfield is my name; my age twenty-nine, and I am the sonof the late Reverend Francis Garfield, rector of Aldingbourne andminor canon of Chichester. In the war I served with the Royal AirForce and obtained my pilot's certificate. I went to France andafterwards to Italy, and on being demobilized returned to my work asan electrical engineer in the employ of Messrs. Francis and Goldsmith, the well-known firm whose palatial offices are in Great George Street, Westminster, quite close to the Institute of Electrical Engineers. 

Though I had obtained my Degree in Science I was at the time employeda good deal upon clerical work. Five years of war had, of course, beensomething of a set-back to my career, but in our reputable firm ourplaces had been kept open for us--for those who returned, and we were, alas! only three out of twenty-eight. 

Perhaps it was that having done my duty and obtained my captaincy anda Military Cross, the loyal, old-fashioned firm regarded me withconsiderable favour. At any rate, it set its face against anythingGerman, even in the post-war days when the enemy sent its Ambassadorto the Court of St. James, and we weakheartedly reopened trade withthe diabolical Huns and allowed them to dump in their cheap and nastygoods just as though no war had happened. 

Messrs. Francis and Goldsmith was a private firm, and the principalswere both fine, patriotic Britons. Though electrical appliances werecoming from Germany wholesale, and being put in to the market atprices with which British firms could never hope to compete, yet theystuck to their old resolution when in 1918 they had joined theAnti-German Union of "No German Goods. "

Would that all other firms, electrical and otherwise, had donelikewise!

Before I describe the amazing adventures which befell me I suppose Iought to tell you the exact circumstances. I had an excellent businessappointment, with a salary which was quite adequate for my modestneeds as a bachelor. Further, my Aunt Emily had died and left me quitea comfortable little fortune in addition. I shared a small flat inRivermead Mansions, just over Hammersmith Bridge, with anotherbachelor, a young solicitor--a dark-haired, clean-shaven, alert fellownamed Henry Hambledon, who had created quite a good practice, withonly small fees of course, at the Hammersmith Police Court and itsvicinity. 

I first met Hambledon at the front--years ago it seems in these dayswhen events march on so rapidly. For nearly a year we werebrother-officers, until I was sent to Italy. We met again after theArmistice and set up housekeeping together, our female "Kaiserin"being a sharp-featured, grey-haired young lady of about fifty-five, who "looked after us" very well, and though she possessed manyidiosyncrasies, did not rob us quite so openly as do most housekeepersof the London bachelor's home. 

Harry was one of the best of good fellows. He had seen a lot ofservice ever since he had responded to his country's call and joinedup as a private. We always got on excellently together, so we hadfurnished our pleasant little six-roomed, second-floor flat quitecomfortably, and as Harry had looked after the artistic side of itsfurnishings--aided by a pal of his, an impecunious artist who livedin Chelsea--it certainly was a very passable bachelor's snuggery. 

The small front room commanded a view over the river with works, wharves, and high factory chimneys on the Middlesex shore. To theleft, across the long suspension bridge, was Chiswick and Kew, whileto the right lay Putney and Chelsea. Before the house flowed the greatbroad muddy river where once each year the University eights flashedpast, while ever and anon, year in, year out, noisy tugs towed stringsof black barges up and down the stream. 

Away across the high-road to the left were the great reservoirs ofLondon's water works, a huge open space always fresh and breezy evenwithin a stone's throw of stifled Hammersmith, with its "tubes" andits dancing-halls. Used as we both had been to years of roughing it, the spot had taken our fancy, and we got on famously together. On mostevenings we were out, but sometimes, before we turned in, we would sitand smoke and laugh over our stirring adventures and humorousincidents in the war, and the "scraps" we had been safely through. 

Since his demobilization Harry had fallen deeply in love with anextremely pretty girl named Norah Peyton, who lived in a houseoverlooking the Terrace Gardens at Richmond, and whose father waspartner in a firm of well-known importers in Mincing Lane. As formyself, I was "unattached. " Like every other young man of my age Ihad, of course, had several little affairs of the heart, all of whichhad, however, died within a few short weeks. 

Now it happened that on the evening of the day prior to the opening ofthis strange series of adventures which befell me, I was in the cityof York, whither I had gone on business for the firm, and as myold-fashioned employers allowed first-class travelling expenses, Ientered an empty first-class compartment of the London express whichleft York at six-twenty-three, and was due at King's Cross atten-thirty. 

A few moments later a fellow-passenger appeared, a well-dressed, middle-aged man, who asked me in French if the train went to London, and on my replying in the affirmative, he thanked me profusely andjoined me. 

"I regret, m'sieur, that I, alas! know so very leetle of yourEngleesh, " he remarked pleasantly, and continued in French: "Sometimesmy ignorance places me in great difficulty when _en voyage_ here. "

Knowing French fairly well we soon commenced to chat in that language. He struck me as a man of considerable refinement and education. Therefore it was no surprise to me when he told me that, as anofficial at the head office of the Crédit Lyonnais in Paris, it washis duty sometimes to visit their correspondents in the chiefcommercial centres of Great Britain. 

"I am on my way from Glasgow back to Paris, " he said. "But I had tobreak my journey in York this morning. I shall leave London for Paristo-morrow. I shall travel by the air-route, " he added; "it is so muchquicker, and far less fatiguing. I have been backwards and forwards tothe Croydon Aerodrome quite half a dozen times of late. "

"Yes, " I remarked. "Travel by aeroplane must be of very considerableadvantage to really busy men. "

And thus we chatted until dinner was announced, and we went togetheralong the corridor to the restaurant-car, where we sat opposite eachother. 

As the train sped along over the flat fertile country throughDoncaster and Grantham on that moonlit winter's night we satgossiping pleasantly, for I had looked forward to a lonely journeyback to London. 

I have "knocked about" ever since the commencement of the war, but Iabhor a lonely four-hour railway journey. I had had enough of slowrailway journeys in France and elsewhere. But on that evening Iconfess I was greatly taken with my fellow-traveller. 

He had all the alertness and exquisite politeness of the Parisian, andhe compelled me to have a Benedictine at his expense. Then, as a _quidpro quo_, he took one of my cigarettes. 

Later, when we had concluded the usual and never-altering mealprovided by the Great Northern Railway Company--I often wonder who arethe culinary artists who devise those menus which face us on allEnglish trains--we returned to our compartment to stretch ourselves inour corners and to smoke. Grantham we had passed and we wereapproaching Peterborough, the old fen town with the ancient cathedral. 

In French my friend the banker kept up a continuous chatter, eventhough I was tired and drowsy. He had told me much concerning himself, and I, in turn, told him of my profession and where I lived. I did nottell him very much, for I am one of those persons who prefer to keepthemselves to themselves. I seldom give strangers any information. After a time, indeed, I tired of him. 

At last we entered King's Cross--a little late, as is usual on a longrun. 

"I have to get to the Carlton, " my companion said. "Of course therewill be no taxis. But are not you in London very badly served in thatrespect? We, in Paris, have taxis at any hour. When your stationsclose I find always a great difficulty in getting a conveyance. Bythe way! Could you not dine with me to-morrow night?"

"I am sorry, " I replied. "But I have arranged to visit my uncle inOrchard Street. "

Two minutes later the train drew up slowly, and wishing myfellow-traveller _bon soir_, I expressed a hope that one day, erelong, we might meet again. I had not given him my card, as ouracquaintance was only upon chance, and--well, after all, he was only apassing foreigner. 

Half an hour after I had stepped from the train, I was back again inmy cosy little flat in Rivermead Mansions, after a very strenuous day. On the hall table lay a letter from my solicitors. I tore it openeagerly and read that they regretted to inform me that certaininvestments I had made a year before, with the money which my aunt hadleft me, had not realized my expectations. In other words, I had lostthe whole of my money!

All I possessed was the salary paid me by Messrs. Francis andGoldsmith. 

My heart stood still. The blow staggered me. Yet, after all, I hadbeen a fool--a fact which my solicitors had hinted at the time. 

I crushed the letter in my hand and passed on into the littlesitting-room. 

Harry had gone out to a dance, and had left a scribbled note on thetable saying that he had his latchkey and would not be back until twoor so. He wished me "cheerio. " So having smoked a final cigarette Iretired. 

Next day I went to the office in Great George Street and reported uponthe business I had done in York--and good business it was, too, withthe Municipal Electric Supply--and in the evening I returned acrossHammersmith Bridge at about six o'clock. 

At seven our buxom "Kaiserin" put our meal upon the table--a roast, asweet, and a wedge of Cheshire cheese. The mind of the dear old soul, who had so many relations, never rose above the butcher's joint andapple tart. Alas! that cooking is an art still unknown in our dear oldEngland. We sit at table only by Nature's necessity--not to enjoy thekindly fruits of the earth as do other nations. 

Yet what could we expect of the 'Ammersmith charlady who looked afterus?--and who, by the way, probably looked after her own pocket aswell. 

The bachelor's housekeeper is always a fifteen puzzle--twelve forherself and the remaining three for her employer. As sure as raincomes in winter, so does the smug and sedate female who keeps housefor the unfortunate unattached male place the onus of housekeepingbills upon him and reap the desserts of life for herself. 

On that particular evening I felt very tired, for in the five days ofmy absence many business matters had accumulated, and I had had muchto attend to. 

Harry, who ate hurriedly--even gobbling his food--told me that he wastaking Norah to the theatre, hence, after dinner, I was left alone. Iread the evening paper when he had left, and then, at eight o'clock, stretched myself, for it was time that I went out to my uncle's. 

The evening was cold and bright, with twinkling stars which onair-raid nights in London would have caused much perturbation amongaverage householders and their families. 

Our "Kaiserin" had gone home, so I rose, put on my overcoat, switchedoff the lights and descended the stairs to Hammersmith Bridge. 

Thus, as you, my reader, will realize, I went out in the manner of amillion other men in London on that particular night of Wednesday, theseventh of November. 

And yet all unconsciously I plunged into a vortex of mystery anduncertainty such as, perhaps, no other living man has everexperienced. 

Again I hesitate to pen these lines. 

Yet, be patient, and I will endeavour, as far as I am able in thesecold printed pages, to reveal exactly what occurred, without anyexaggeration or hysterical meanderings. My only object being topresent to you a plain, straightforward, and unvarnished narrative ofthose amazing occurrences, and in what astounding circumstances Ifound myself. 

Surely it was not any of my own seeking--as you will readilyunderstand. Because I performed what I believed to be a goodaction--as most readers of these pages would have done in similarcircumstances--I was rewarded by unspeakable trouble, tribulation andtragedy. 

CHAPTER THE FIRST

INTRODUCES OSWALD DE GEX

I had promised to call upon Charles Latimer, my bachelor uncle, aretired naval captain, a somewhat crusty old fellow who lived inOrchard Street, which runs between Oxford Street and Portman Square. Iusually went there twice a week. With that intent I took a motor 'busfrom Hammersmith Broadway as far as Hyde Park Corner. 

As I stepped off the 'bus rain began to fall, so turning up the collarof my coat I hurried up Park Lane, at that hour half deserted. 

When half-way up to Oxford Street I turned into one of the small, highly aristocratic streets leading into Park Street as a short cut toOrchard Street. The houses were all of them fine town mansions of thearistocracy, most of them with deep porticos and deeper areas. 

Stretton Street was essentially one inhabited by the highest in Londonsociety. I had passed through it many times--as a Londoner does inmaking short cuts--without even noticing the name. The Londoner'sgeography is usually only by the landmarks of street corners and"tube" stations. 

As I hurried along through the rain, I suddenly heard a man's voicebehind me say:

"Excuse me, sir! But may I speak to you for just one second?"

I turned, and as I halted, a bare-headed young man-servant in livery, with waistcoat of striped black-and-yellow, faced me. 

"I'm sorry, sir, " he exclaimed breathlessly, "but will you wait just amoment?"

"What do you want?" I asked, surprised at being thus accosted. 

"Would you oblige my master, sir?" inquired the young man eagerly. "Heis in some very great trouble. Only a moment, sir. Just come in andsee him. Do. Poor fellow! he's in great trouble. Do come in and seehim, sir, " he begged. 

Amazed at this appeal, and my curiosity aroused, I consented, andfollowed the man back to a great stone-built mansion about fifty yardsaway. The front door in its deep portico stood open, just as theservant had left it when, apparently, he had dashed out into thestreet to accost the first passer-by. 

"I'm sure my master will be most grateful to you, sir, " the youngfootman said as I crossed the threshold. 

We passed through a large square hall and up a great flight ofsoftly-carpeted stairs to the library on the first floor--a big, sombre room, lined with books from floor to ceiling--evidently the denof a studious man. 

In the grate there burned a bright log fire, and on either side stoodtwo deep leather arm-chairs. It was a room possessing the acme ofcosiness and comfort. Over the fireplace was set a large circularpainting of the Madonna and Child--evidently the work of some Italianmaster of the seventeenth century--while here and there stood severalexquisite bronzes. 

In the window on the left was set a great carved Renaissancewriting-table, and upon it burned an electric lamp with an artisticshade of emerald glass. 

A few moments later a man in evening-dress entered hurriedly--almostbreathlessly. I judged him to be about forty-five, dark-haired anddecidedly handsome, but his complexion was a trifle sallow, and hisfeatures had a decidedly Oriental cast. 

He greeted me profusely in a quiet, highly refined voice. Though hisappearance was foreign, yet he was certainly English. 

"I'm really awfully sorry to trouble you, sir, " he said in a tone ofprofuse apology, "but the fact is that I find myself in a state ofconsiderable perplexity. It is extremely good of you to consent toaccompany Horton back here. I only hope that I have not interferedwith any appointment you have to keep. "

"Not at all, " I replied, wondering who my host might be, for the wholeaffair was so sudden and unexpected that I was bewildered. 

"Do sit down, and have a cigar, " said my unknown host cheerily, and hetook up a large silver box from a side table whereon was set adecanter of whisky, a syphon of soda water and four glasses upon abeautiful old tray of Georgian silver. 

I selected a Corona, and sinking into the inviting chair, lit it, while he also took a cigar, and having clipped off the end, lit up aswell. 

We chatted affably, for my host was certainly geniality itself. 

"This is quite an unexpected visit!" I remarked laughing, wonderingstill why I had been called in. 

"Yes, " he said. "I should not have had the pleasure of youracquaintance had it not been for the great trouble I have to-night, "and he drew a deep sigh, while across his dark face passed anexpression of pain and regret. "Some men are happy, others are--are, well, unfortunately unhappy in their domestic life. I, alas! am oneof the latter, " he added. 

"That is very regrettable, " I said sympathetically. 

"My wife, " he said hoarsely after a pause, "my wife took out my littleboy this evening and deliberately left him in Westbourne Grove--justin order to spite me! Then she rang me up from some call-office andtold me what she had done. Put yourself in my place, " he said. "Wouldyou not be indignant? Would you not be filled with hatred--and----"

"I certainly should, " was my reply. "I'm a bachelor, and sometimeswhen I see so many unhappy marriages I fear to take the matrimonialplunge myself. "

"Ah! Take my advice and remain single as long as ever you can, my dearsir. I--I haven't the pleasure of your name. "

"Garfield--Hugh Garfield, " I said. 

"Mine is De Gex--Oswald De Gex, " he said. "You may perhaps have heardof me. "

Heard of Oswald De Gex! Of course I had! He was reputed to be one ofthe wealthiest of men, but he lived mostly in Paris or at hismagnificent villa outside Florence. It was common knowledge that hehad, during the war, invested a level million sterling in the WarLoan, while he was constantly giving great donations to variouscharities. Somewhat eccentric, he preferred living abroad to spendinghis time in England, because, it was said, of some personal quarrelwith another Member of the House of Commons which had arisen over adebate soon after he had been elected. 

I recollected, too, that his wife--whose handsome pictured face sooften appeared in the newspapers--was the daughter of a sportingbaronet, yet I had never heard any whisper of such matrimonialtroubles as he had just revealed to me. 

He seemed a most easy-going man, whose clean-shaven face under thesoftly shaded electric light did not now appear so sallow and foreignas at first. His eyes were dark and rather deeply set, while his mouthwas narrow and refined, with a dimple in the centre of his chin. Hiscast of features was certainly foreign, and handsome withal--a facefull of strength and character. When he spoke he slightly aspiratedhis c's, and now and then he gesticulated when enthusiastic, due, ofcourse, to his long residence abroad. 

Often I had read in the newspapers of the splendid mediæval castlewhich he had bought from the Earl of Weymount, a castle perched highupon the granite rocks facing the Channel, between the Lizard and St. Ruan. He had spent a fortune in restoring it, yet he very seldomvisited it. The historic place, with its wind-swept surroundings, wasgiven over to his agent at Truro and to a caretaker. 

As a matter of fact, I had once seen it while on a summer tour inCornwall five years before, a great square keep with four towers, storm-worn and forbidding--one of the most perfect specimens of themediæval castles in England. I had been told by the man who drove thehired car about its history, how in the early fourteenth century ithad been the home of William Auberville, a favourite of Edward II. From the Aubervilles the old fortress had passed a century later intothe Weymount family, and had been their ancestral home for centuries. 

I chanced to mention that I had seen the castle, whereupon themillionaire smiled, and remarked:

"I fear that I've not been there lately. I am so very seldom inEngland nowadays. Besides, the old place is so cold and gloomy. It isdraughty even on a summer's day. My wife liked it when we weremarried--liked it until somebody told her of a family legend, how Hughde Weymount, in the fifteenth century, walled up his wife in the northtower and left her to starve to death. Ever since she heard that storyshe has hated the old place. But, " he added with a hard laugh, "it ismost probably not true, and if the gallant knight actually did such athing, perhaps, after all, the lady deserved it!"

My friend certainly seemed soured against the opposite sex. And surelyhe had just cause to be if his wife, in order to spite him, haddeliberately lost the heir, little Oswald De Gex, in Westbourne Grove. 

It was a strange thing that the heir of one of the wealthiest men inBritain should have been abandoned in Bayswater. As a bachelor, Iwondered as to the state of mind of the mother--a mother who couldtake out her child on a winter's night, without hat or coat, anddeliberately cast him adrift just to annoy her husband. 

But the gentler sex in these days of drugs and dancing are, it must beadmitted, strangely abnormal. Women with crazes abound everywhere. That women are emancipated from the almost Oriental thraldom in whichthey lived in the days of Victoria the Good is a bright sign of ourtimes--the times of discovery, refinement, and mutual happiness of allclasses. But certain circles--those circles wherein women take drugsto enable them to dance the better, circles where opium is smoked, andwhere morals do not count, where religion is scoffed at and relegatedto the limbo of an out-of-date fiction, and where only the possessorof money counts, there is a strange and mysterious phase of Societyindescribable by the pen. Only those who know of them by personalexperience--the experience of "fast living"--can understand it. Andeven the man-about-town stands aghast at the ultra-modern crazes. 

As we sat chatting in that quiet comfortable room, I confess that Ibecame rather fascinated by my host. Perhaps he was a trifle toocynical at times, but his matrimonial trouble no doubt accounted forit. 

Suddenly he rose and stretched himself rather wearily, I thought. Thethin, delicate hand which held his cigar was long and tapering, andupon his finger was an antique Florentine ring in the form of a smallemerald moth. I particularly noticed it as of very unusual pattern. Irecollected seeing one of the same design in the Louvre Museum inParis several years before. 

"Ah!" he sighed. "I shall very soon leave London again--thankgoodness! Next week I return to Fiesole for the winter. I am no greatlover of London--are you, Mr. --Mr. Garfield?"

"My business as an electrical engineer keeps me in London, " was myreply. "Besides, I have recently sustained a very heavy financialloss. If, however, I were independent I should certainly live in thecountry. London has, to me, become unbearable since the war. "

"Ah! I quite agree, " replied my host. "All our fine British traditionsseem to have gone by the board. That, at least, is my own view. Butthere--perhaps I am getting an old fogey. "

"I don't think so, " I replied. "Everyone who knows you, Mr. De Gex, iswell aware of your up-to-dateness, and your great generosity. "

"Are they?" he asked, smiling wearily. "Personally I care very little. Popularity and prosperity can be manufactured by any shrewdpress-agent employed at so much a year. Without publicity, theprofessional man or woman would never obtain a hearing. These are thedays when incompetency properly boomed raises the incompetent togreatness--and even to Cabinet rank. Neither would the society womanever obtain a friend without her boom, " he went on. "Bah! I'm sick ofit all!" he added with a sweep of his thin white hand. "But it isrefreshing to talk with you, a stranger. "

He was certainly frank in his criticisms, and I was not at allsurprised when he commenced to question me as to my profession, whereI lived, and what were my future plans. 

I told him quite openly of my position, and that I lived in RivermeadMansions with my friend Hambledon; and I also mentioned again thefinancial blow I had just received. 

"Well, " he said lazily, "I'm greatly indebted to you, Mr. Garfield, for deigning to come in and see a much-worried man. Ah! you do notknow how I suffer from my wife's hatred of me. My poor little Oswald. Fancy abandoning him in order that the police might find him. Buthappily he is back. Think of the publicity--for the papers would havebeen full of my son being lost. " Then, after a pause, he added: "Ihope we shall see each other again before I go back to Italy. "

At that moment, the butler, Horton, entered with a card upon a silversalver, whereupon I rose to leave. 

"Oh! don't go yet!" my host urged quickly, as he glanced at the card. 

"Is he waiting?" asked Mr. De Gex, turning to his servant. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Oh, well. Yes, I'll see him, " he said. And then, excusing himself, herose and left, followed by the man. 

Why, I wondered, had I been invited there? It seemed curious thatthis exceedingly rich man was bursting to confide his domestictroubles to a perfect stranger. 

I glanced around the handsome, well-furnished room. 

Upon the writing-table lay a number of letters, and upon the redblotting-pad was a big wad of Treasury notes, under an elastic band, cast aside heedlessly, as rich men often do. 

As I sat there awaiting my host's return, I recollected how, in theprevious year, I had seen in the pictorial press photographs of thehandsome Mrs. De Gex attired in jersey and breeches, with knitted capand big woollen scarf, lying upon her stomach on a sleigh on theCresta run. In another photograph which I recollected she was watchingsome ski-ing, and still another, when she was walking in the park witha well-known Cabinet Minister and his wife. But her husband neverappeared in print. One of his well-known idiosyncrasies was that hewould never allow himself to be photographed. 

At the end of the room I noticed, for the first time, a pair of heavyoaken folding-doors communicating with the adjoining apartment, and asI sat there I fancied I heard a woman's shrill but refined voice--thevoice of a well-bred young woman, followed by a peal of light, almosthysterical, laughter, in which a man joined. 

My adventure was certainly a strange one. I had started out to visitmy prosaic old uncle--as I so often did--and I had anticipated a veryboring time. But here I was, by a most curious circumstance, uponfriendly terms with one of the richest men in England. 

Further, he seemed to have taken an unusual fancy to me. Probablybecause I had been sympathetic regarding the rescue of little OswaldDe Gex. But why he should have confided all this to me I failed torealize. 

As I sat there by the cheerful fire I heard the voices again raisedin the adjoining room--the voices of a man and a woman. 

Suddenly a sweet perfume greeted my nostrils. At first it seemed likethat of an old-fashioned _pot-pourri_ of lavender, verbena and basalt, such as our grandmothers decocted in their punch-bowls from driedrose-leaves to give their rooms a sweet odour. The scent reminded meof my mother's drawing-room of long ago. 

Gradually it became more and more pungent. It seemed as though somepastille were burning somewhere, for soon it became almost sickening, an odour utterly overbearing. 

At the same time I felt a curious sensation creeping over me. Why Icould not tell. 

I was both agitated and annoyed. I had only half finished my drink, and it was certainly not alcohol that was affecting me. Rather itseemed to be that curious old-world perfume which each moment grewmore pungent. 

I struggled against it. What would my newly-found friend think if hereturned to find me overcome?

I gained my feet with difficulty and managed to walk across thecarpet, holding my breath. 

Certainly my night's adventure was, to say the least, a curious one. 

Yet in our post-war days in London the man who ventures about townafter dark can easily meet with as strange occurrences and narrowescapes as ever were described by the pioneers of Central Africa. Theexplorer Stanley himself declared that the African jungle was saferthan the crossing of the Strand. 

I suppose I must have remained in the chair into which I again sankfor a further ten minutes. My head swam. My mental balance seemed tohave become strangely upset by that highly pungent odour of lavenderand verbena. I could even taste it upon my tongue, and somehow itseemed to paralyse all my senses save two, those of sight and reason. 

I had difficulty in moving my mouth, my fingers, and my shoulders, butmy sense of smell seemed to have become extremely acute. Yet mymuscles seemed rigid, although my brain remained perfectly clear andunimpaired. 

It was that scent of verbena--now terrible and detestable--a milliontimes more potent than any bath soap--which filled my nostrils so thatit seemed to choke me. I longed for fresh air. 

By dint of persistent effort I rose, dragged myself across the room, drew aside the heavy silken curtain, and opening the window leaned outinto the cold air, gasping for breath. 

Where was Mr. De Gex?

For about five minutes I remained there, yet even the night air gaveme little relief. My throat had become contracted until I seemed to bechoking. 

By the exercise of greater effort I staggered back, aghast at thesudden and unaccountable attack, and pressed the electric bell besidethe fireplace to summon my host or the estimable Horton. Then I sankback into the arm-chair, my limbs paralysed. 

How long I remained there I cannot tell for that pungent odour had, atlast, dulled my brain. I had heard of cocaine, of opium, and of otherdrugs, and it occurred to me that I might be under the influence ofone or the other of them. Yet the idea was absurd. I was Mr. De Gex'sguest, and I could only suppose that my sudden seizure was due tonatural causes--to some complication of a mental nature which I hadnever suspected. The human brain is a very complex composition, andits strange vagaries are only known to alienists. 

I seemed stifled, and I sat clutching the arms of the big leatherchair when my host at last entered, smiling serenely and full ofapologies. 

"I'm awfully sorry to have left you, Mr. Garfield, but my agent calledto do some very urgent business. Pray excuse me, won't you?"

"I--I'm awfully sorry!" I exclaimed. "But I--I don't feel very well. Imust apologize, Mr. De Gex, but would you ask your man to order me ataxi? I--well, I've come over strangely queer since you've been out. "

"Bah! my dear fellow, " he laughed cheerily. "You'll surely be allright in a few minutes. Stay here and rest. I'm sorry you don't feelwell. You'll be better soon. I'll order my car to take you home inhalf an hour. "

Then he crossed to the telephone, rang up a number, and ordered hiscar to be at the house in half an hour. 

Then he rang for Horton, who brought me a liqueur glass of old brandy, which at my host's suggestion I swallowed. 

Mr. De Gex, standing upon the thick Turkey hearthrug with his cigarbetween his lips, watched me closely. Apparently he was considerablyperturbed at my sudden illness, for he expressed regret, hoping thatthe brandy would revive me. 

It, however, had the opposite effect. The strong perfume like_pot-pourri_ had confused my senses, but the brandy dulled them stillfurther. I felt inert and unable to move a muscle, or even to exercisemy will power. Yet my sense of sight was quite unimpaired. 

I recollect distinctly how the dark keen-faced aristocrat-looking manstood before me alert and eager, as he gazed intently into my face asthough watching the progress of my seizure which had so completelyparalysed me. 

Of a sudden a loud shriek sounded from the adjoining room--a woman'swild shriek of terror. 

My host's thin lips tightened. 

The scream was repeated, and continued. 

"Excuse me, " he exclaimed as he left the room hastily. 

I sat with ears alert. It was surely most strange that the well-knownmillionaire, whose name was on everyone's lips, had confided in me ashe had done. Why had he done so?

The screams of terror continued for about half a minute. Then theyseemed stifled down to heavy sobbing. They seemed to be hystericalsobs, as of someone who had suffered from some great shock. 

I was full of wonderment. It was unusual, I thought, that such noisesshould be heard in a sedate West End mansion. 

There was a long-drawn-out sob, and then silence. A dead silence!

A few moments later Mr. De Gex came in looking very flushed andexcited. 

"My troubles are ever on the increase, " he exclaimed breathlessly. "Come, Mr. Garfield. Come with me. "

He assisted me to my feet and led me out into the corridor and intothe adjoining room. 

To my surprise it was a great handsomely furnished bedroom with heavyhangings of yellow silk before the windows, and a great dressing-tablewith a huge mirror with side wings. Along one side were wardrobesbuilt into the wall, the doors being of satinwood beautifully inlaid. 

In the centre stood a handsome bed, and upon it lay a young andbeautiful girl wearing a dark blue serge walking dress of the latestmode. Her hat was off, and across her dark hair was a band of blackvelvet. The light, shining upon her white face--a countenance whichhas ever since been photographed upon my memory--left the remainder ofthe room in semi-darkness. 

"My poor niece!" Mr. De Gex said breathlessly. "She--she has beensubject to fits of hysteria. The doctor has warned her of her heart. You heard her cries. I--I believe she's dead!"

We both moved to the bed, my host still supporting me. I bentcautiously and listened, but I could hear no sound of breathing. Herheart has ceased to beat!

He took a hand mirror from the dressing-table and held it over hermouth. When he withdrew it it remained unclouded. 

"She's dead--_dead_!" he exclaimed. "And--well, I am in despair. First, my wife defies me--and now poor Gabrielle is dead! How wouldyou feel?"

"I really don't know, " I whispered. 

"Come back with me into the library, " he urged. "We can't speak here. I--well--I want to be perfectly frank with you. "

And he conducted me back to the room where we had been seatedtogether. 

I had resumed my seat much puzzled and excited by the tragedy that hadoccurred--the sudden death of my host's niece. 

"Now, look here, " exclaimed Mr. De Gex, standing upon the hearthrug, his sallow face pale and drawn. "Your presence here is most opportune. You must render me assistance in this unfortunate affair, Mr. Garfield. I feel that I can trust you, and I--well, I hope you cantrust me in return. Will you consent to help me?"

"In what way?" I asked. 

"I'm in a hole--a desperate hole, " he said very anxiously. "PoorGabrielle has died, but if it gets out that her death is sudden, thenthere must be a coroner's inquiry with all its publicity--photographsin the picture-papers, and, perhaps, all sorts of mud cast at me. Iwant to avoid all this--and you alone can help me!"

"How?" I inquired, much perturbed by the tragic occurrence. 

"By giving a death certificate. "

"But I'm not a doctor!"

"You can pass as one, " he said, looking very straight at me. "Besides, it is so easy for you to write out a certificate and sign it, with achange of your Christian name. There is a Gordon Garfield in the'Medical List. ' Won't you do it for me, and help me out of a verygreat difficulty? Do! I implore you, " he urged. 

"But--I--I----"

"Please do not hesitate. You have only to give the certificate. Hereis pen and paper. And here is a blank form. My niece died of heartdisease, for which you have attended her several times during the pastsix months. "

"I certainly have not!"

"No, " he replied, grinning. "I am aware of that. But surely fivethousand pounds is easily earned by writing out a certificate. I'llwrite it--you only just copy it, " and he bent and scribbled some wordsupon a slip of paper. 

Five thousand pounds! It was a tempting offer in face of the fact thatI had just lost practically a similar sum. 

"But how do I know that Miss----"

"Miss Engledue, " he said. 

"Well, how do I know that Miss Engledue has not--well, has not metwith foul play?" I asked. 

"You don't, my dear sir. That I admit. Yet you surely do not suspectme of murdering my niece--the girl I have brought up as my owndaughter, " and he laughed grimly. "Five thousand pounds is a decentsum, " he added. "And in this case you can very easily earn it. "

"By posing as a medical man, " I remarked. "A very serious offence!"

Again my host smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Well, " he said, after a pause. "Here is the certificate for you tocopy. Reject my offer if you like; but I think you must agree that itis a most generous one. To me, money is but little object. My onlyconcern is the annoying publicity which a coroner's inquiry mustbring. "

I confess that I was wavering. The shrewd, clever man at once realizedthe position, and again he conducted me to the chamber where the younggirl was lying cold and still. 

I shall ever recollect that beautiful face, white and cold likechiselled marble it seemed, for _rigor mortis_ was apparently alreadysetting in. 

Back again in the library Oswald De Gex took from his safe a bundle ofhundred-pound Bank of England notes, and counted them out--fifty ofthem. 

He held them in his hand with a sheet of blank notepaper bearing anaddress in Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, and a blank form. Thushe tempted me--and--and at last I fell!

When I had written and signed the certificate, he handed me the bundleof notes. 

I now remember that, at that moment, he took some pastilles from hispocket and placed one in his mouth. I thought perhaps they were throatlozenges. Of a sudden, however, the atmosphere seemed to beoverpoweringly oppressive with the odour of heliotrope. It seemed ahouse of subtle perfumes!

The effect upon me was that of delirious intoxication. I could hearnothing and I could think of nothing. 

My senses were entirely confused, and I became utterly dazed. 

What did it all mean?

I only know that I placed the wad of bank notes in the inner pocket ofmy waistcoat, and that I was talking to the millionaire when, of asudden, my brain felt as though it had suddenly become frozen. 

The scent of verbena became nauseating--even intoxicating. But uponOswald De Gex, who was still munching his pastille, the odourapparently had no effect. 

All I recollect further is that I sank suddenly into a big arm-chair, while my host's face grinned demoniacally in complete satisfaction. Islowly lapsed into blank unconsciousness. 

Little did I at the time dream with what amazing cleverness the trapinto which I had fallen had been baited. 

But what happened to me further I will endeavour to describe to you. 

CHAPTER THE SECOND

THE SISTER'S STORY

A strange sensation crept over me, for I suddenly felt that mybrain, dazed by that subtle odour of _pot-pourri_, was slowlyunclouding--ever so slowly--until, to my amazement, I found myselfseated upon a garden chair on a long veranda which overlooked asloping garden, with the blue-green sunlit sea beyond. 

Of the lapse of time I have no idea to this day; nor have I anyknowledge of what happened to me. 

All I am able to relate is the fact that I found myself in overcoatand hat seated upon a long terrace in the noon sunlight of winter. 

I gazed around, utterly astonished. The clothes I wore seemed coarseand unfamiliar. My hand went to my chin, when I found that I had growna beard! My surroundings were strange and mysterious. The houses oneither side were white and inartistic, with sloping roofs and squarewindows. They were foreign--evidently French!

The shrill siren of a factory sounded somewhere, releasing theworkers. Far away before me a steamer away on the horizon left a longtrail of smoke behind, while here and there showed the brown sails offishing boats. 

I rose from my seat, filled with curiosity, and glanced at the housebefore which I stood. It was a big square building of red brick withmany square windows. It seemed like a hospital or institution. 

That it was the former was quickly revealed, for a few moments after Ihad risen, a nursing-sister in a tri-winged linen head-dress appearedand spoke kindly to me, asking in French how I felt on that gloriousmorning. 

"I am quite all right, " was my reply in French. "But where am I?" Iinquired, utterly dazed. 

"Never mind, m'sieur, where you are, " replied the stout, middle-agedwoman in blue uniform and broad collar. "You have only to get better. "

"But I am better, " I protested. "I lost consciousness in London--andnow I awake here to find myself--where?"

"You are in good hands, so why trouble?" asked the Sister very kindly. "You are upset, I know. Do not worry. Take things quite easily. Do nottry to recall the past. "

"The past!" I cried. "What has passed--eh? What has happened since Iwent through Stretton Street the other night?"

The Sister smiled at me. She seemed inclined to humour me--as shewould a child. 

"Do not perturb yourself, I beg of you, " she said in a sympatheticvoice. "There is really no need for it. Only just remain calm--and allwill be right. "

"But you do not explain, Sister, " I said. "Why am I here? And where amI?" I asked, gazing vacantly around me. 

"You are with friends--friends who have looked after you, " was herreply. "We are all very sorry for your motor accident. "

"Motor accident!" I echoed. "I have had no motor accident. "

Again the dark-eyed woman smiled in disbelief, and it annoyed me. Indeed, it goaded me to anger. 

"But you told us all about it. How you started out from the Quay atBoulogne late at night to drive to Abbeville, and how your hiredchauffeur held you up, and left you at the roadside, " she said. "Yetthe curious fact about your strange story is the money. "

"Money! What money?" I gasped, utterly astounded by the Sister'sremark. 

"The money they found upon you, a packet of bank notes. The policehave the five thousand pounds in English money, I believe. "

"The police! Why?" I asked. 

"No, " she said, smiling, and still humouring me as though I were achild. "Don't bother about it now. You are a little better to-day. To-morrow we will talk of it all. "

"But where am I?" I demanded, still bewildered. 

"You are in St. Malo, " was her slow reply. 

"St. Malo!" I echoed. "How did I get here? I have no remembrance ofit. "

"Of course you have not, " replied the kindly woman in the cool-lookinghead-dress. "You are only just recovering. "

"From what?"

"From loss of memory, and--well, the doctors say you have sufferedfrom a complete nervous breakdown. "

I was aghast, scarce believing myself to be in my senses, and at thesame time wondering if it were not all a dream. But no! Gradually allthe events of that night in Stretton Street arose before me. I sawthem again in every detail--Oswald De Gex, his servant, Horton, andthe dead girl, pale but very beautiful, as she lay with closed eyesupon her death-bed. 

I recollected, too, the certificate I had given for payment--thosenotes which the police held in safe custody. 

The whole adventure seemed a hideous nightmare. And yet it was all soreal. 

But how did I come to be in St. Malo? How did I travel from London?

"Sister, " I said presently. "What is the date of to-day?"

"The eleventh of December, " she replied. 

The affair at Stretton Street had occurred on the night of November7th, over a month before!

"And how long have I been here?"

"Nearly three weeks, " was her answer. 

Was it really possible that I had been lost for the previous ten daysor so?

I tried to obtain some further facts from my nurse, but she refused tosatisfy my curiosity. 

"I have been ordered by the doctors to keep you very quiet, " she said. "Please do not ask me to break my promise. You will be much betterto-morrow--and they will tell you everything. "

"But mine is a strange case, is it not?" I asked. 

"Very strange, " she admitted. "We have all been much puzzledconcerning you. "

"Then why not tell me all the circumstances now? Why keep me insuspense?" I urged. 

"Because you have not yet quite recovered. You are not entirelyyourself. Come, " she added kindly, "let us take a little walk. It willdo you good for the weather is so lovely to-day. "

At her suggestion I strolled by her side through the pleasant groundsof the hospital, down into St. Malo, the busy streets of which were, however, entirely unfamiliar to me. Yet, according to the Sister, Ihad walked in them a number of times before. Still, I had norecollection of doing so. 

"I am taking you for your favourite stroll, " she said, as we went downone of the steep, tortuous streets to the little Place Châteaubriandin front of the ancient castle, which, she told me, was now abarracks. 

Presently she mounted to the ramparts, and as we strolled round them, I admired the beautiful view of the sea, the many islets, and thecurious appearance of the town. The tide was up, and the view on thatsunny December morning was glorious. 

At one point where we halted my nurse pointed out the little summertown of Dinard and St. Enogat, and told me the names of the variousislets rising from the sea, Les Herbiers, the Grand Jardin, LaConchée, and all the rest. 

But I walked those ramparts like a man in a dream. A new life had, inthat past hour, opened up to me. What had occurred since I hadaccepted that bundle of bank notes from the millionaire's hand I didnot know. I had emerged from the darkness of unconsciousness into theknowledge of things about me, and found myself amid surroundings whichI had never before known--in a French hospital where they evidentlyviewed me as an interesting "case. "

I stood against the wall and gazed about. My habit was to carry mycigarette-case in my upper waistcoat pocket. Instinctively I felt forit, and it was there. It was not my own silver case, but a big nickelone, yet in it there were some of my own brand. 

I looked inquiringly at my nurse. 

She smiled, saying:

"You haven't many left. Why can't you smoke some other brand? Youalways insist upon that one. I had so much difficulty in getting themfor you yesterday!"

"They are my own particular fancy, " I said, tapping one of them uponthe case before lighting it. 

"I know. But here, in France, they are most difficult to get. Theother day you said you had smoked them all through the war, and evenwhen you were in Italy you had had them sent out to you from London. "

That was quite correct. 

"Well, Sister, " I laughed. "I have no recollection of saying that, butit is perfectly true. It seems that only this morning I regainedconsciousness. "

"Professor Thillot said you would. Others gave you up, but he declaredthat after careful nursing your memory would regain its normalbalance. "

"Who is Professor Thillot?"

"The great nerve specialist of Paris. The police engaged him to cometo see you. He was here ten days ago, and he put you under my charge. "

I laughed. 

"Then I am still an interesting case, Sister--eh?"

"Yes. You certainly are. "

"But do tell me more of what I am in ignorance, " I implored. "I wantto know how I came here--in France--when I lost all consciousness in ahouse just off Park Lane, in London. "

"To-morrow, " she said, firmly, but kindly. She was a charming woman, whose name she gave me as Soeur Marie. 

We strolled back to the hospital, but on the way along the QuaiDuguay-Trouin--I noticed it written up--I became again confused. Myvision was not as it should have been, and my memory seemed blurred, even of the happenings of the past hour. 

My nurse chatted as we walked together through the streets, but Iknow that my answers were unintelligible. I felt I was not myself. Allmy senses were keen as far as I could gauge--all save that of mymemory of the past. 

As I ascended through the pretty grounds of the hospital, the Sisterbeside me, I felt a curious failing of my heart. I experienced asensation which I cannot here describe, as of one who had lost allinterest in life, and who longed for death. 

There may be some among my readers who have experienced it, perhaps. Icannot describe it; I merely explain that I felt inert, inefficient, and bored with life. 

No such feeling had ever fallen upon me before. Hitherto I had beenquick, alert, and full of the enjoyment of living. At RivermeadMansions Harry Hambledon and I had prided ourselves on our post-waralertness. 

Where was Harry? What was he doing? Would he be wondering why I wasabsent from our riparian bachelor home?

I was reflecting upon all this when suddenly, without any apparentcause, I once more lost consciousness. We were at that moment enteringthe door of the hospital and the Sister had just exclaimed:

"Now, do remain quite quiet and not worry over the past. It will allbe right to-morrow, " she urged. 

I know not what words I uttered in reply. A curious sense ofoppression had fallen upon me, a hot, burning feeling as though myskull was filled with molten metal, while at the back of my neck was asharp excruciating pain which caused me to hold my breath. 

The Sister apparently noticed my sudden relapse, for she expressed ahope that I was not feeling worse. I tried to reassure her that I wasall right, but I know I failed to do so, for once again I lost allknowledge of things about me. 

After that I recollect nothing more. Probably I walked on mechanicallyback to my bed. 

When my lapse had passed, and I again regained consciousness, I foundmyself in bed gazing up at the ceiling. On either side of me were men, also in bed. They were talking in French. 

I listened, and in a few seconds I recollected the events of theprevious day. Then a sharp-featured nurse, whom I had not seen before, told us it was time to dress. I obeyed, but my clothes were entirelyunfamiliar. They were coarse and did not fit me. 

While I washed I burst out laughing. The humour of the situationstruck me as distinctly amusing. At one hour I was myself; at the nextI was another being!

Was my case that of Jekyll and Hyde?

I knew, and I felt keenly about it, that I had accepted a bribe toperform an illicit service. I had posed as a medical man and given acertificate of death. But my one and only object in life was to seeMr. De Gex and demand of him a full explanation of the amazing andsuspicious circumstances. 

My lapses were intermittent. At times I was fully conscious of thepast. At others my brain was awhirl and aflame. I could think ofnothing, see nothing--only distorted visions of things about me. 

Apparently twenty-four hours had passed since I walked in thesunshine. 

The men in the hospital ward were all Frenchmen, apparently of thelower class. At one end of the room a heated argument was in progressin which four or five men were gesticulating and wrangling, while oneman was seated on his bed laughing idiotically, it seemed, at his ownthoughts. 

Presently a tall thin man in spectacles entered, and addressing me, asked me to follow him. 

I obeyed, and he conducted me to a small kind of office in which twomen were standing. Both were middle-aged, and of official aspect. 

Having given me a chair they all seated themselves when thethin man--who I rightly judged to be the director of thehospital--commenced to interrogate me. 

"How do you feel to-day?" was his first question, which he put inFrench in a quiet, kindly manner. 

"I feel much better, " was my reply. "But yesterday my nurse revealedto me some very extraordinary facts concerning myself. "

"Yes. You have been seriously ill, " he said. "But now you are betterthese gentlemen wish to put a few questions to you. "

"They are police officers, I presume. "

The director nodded in the affirmative. 

"We wish to ascertain exactly what happened to you, monsieur, "exclaimed the elder of the pair. 

"I really don't know, " I replied. "I must have lost all consciousnessin London, and----"

"In London!" exclaimed Monsieur Leullier, the Prefect of Police, ingreat surprise. "Then how came you here in St. Malo?"

"I have not the slightest idea, " was my reply. "I only presume that Iwas found here. "

"You were. A fish-porter passing along the Quay St. Vincent at abouttwo o'clock in the morning found you seated on the ground with yourback to the wall, moaning as though in pain. He called the police andyou were removed on the ambulance to the hospital here. The doctorsfound that you were in no pain, but that you could give nointelligible account of yourself. "

"What did I tell them?"

"Oh! a number of silly stories. At one moment you said you had comefrom Italy. Then you said that you had hired a motor-car and thedriver had attacked you in the night. Afterwards you believed yourselfto be in some office, and talked about electrical engineering. "

"That is my profession, " I said. And I told them my name and myaddress in London, facts which the police carefully set down. 

"You told us that your name was Henry Aitken, and that you livedmostly in Italy--at some place near Rome. We have made inquiries bytelegraph of a number of people whom you have mentioned, but all theirreplies have been in the negative, " said the police official. 

"Well, I am now entirely in possession of my full senses, " I declared. "But how I got to France I have not the slightest knowledge. I lostconsciousness in a house in Stretton Street, in London. Since then Ihave known nothing--until yesterday. "

"In what circumstances did you lapse into unconsciousness?" asked thedoctor, looking intently at me through his glasses, for mine was nodoubt an extremely interesting case. "What do you remember? Did youreceive any sudden shock?"

I explained that being on a visit to a friend--as I designated OswaldDe Gex--his niece died very suddenly. And after that I becameunconscious. 

The Prefect of Police naturally became very inquisitive, but Ipreferred not to satisfy his curiosity. My intention was to return toLondon and demand from De Gex a full explanation of what had actuallyoccurred on that fatal night. I was full of suspicion regarding thesudden death of his niece, Gabrielle Engledue. 

The police official told me that from my clothes all the tabs bearingthe tailor's name had been removed, and also the laundry marks from myunderclothes. There was nothing upon me that could possibly establishmy identity, though in my pocket was found five thousand pounds inbank notes--which he handed to me. They were intact--the same noteswhich De Gex has given me in return for the false death certificate Ihad signed. 

I sat utterly aghast at the story of my discovery, of the manyattempts made to establish my identity, of the visit of the BritishVice-Consul to the hospital, and of his kindness towards me. It seemedthat he had questioned me closely, but I had told an utterly fantasticstory. 

Indeed, as I sat there, I felt that neither of my three interrogatorsbelieved a single word of the truth I related. Yet, after all, I wasnot revealing the whole truth. 

Certain recollections which I would have forgotten came to me. I had, I knew, committed a very serious criminal offence in posing as amedical man and giving that death certificate. Possibly I had been anaccessory to some great crime--the crime of murder!

That thought held me anxious and filled me with fear. 

The Prefect of Police seemed entirely dissatisfied with myexplanation, nevertheless he was compelled to accept it, and an hourlater I was released from the hospital. Before leaving, however, I wasshown the register in which I had signed my name as "Henry Aitken. "This I erased and substituted my own name. 

Then I thanked the tall, thin director and walked out into the streetsof St. Malo a changed man. 

CHAPTER THE THIRD

WHO WAS GABRIELLE ENGLEDUE?

What, I wondered, had happened during my month of unconsciousness? Iwandered into a café and sat pondering. Afterwards I walked about thetown aimlessly and rather hungry. My own clothes had been returned tome, but before I assumed them I saw that every mark of identity hadbeen purposely removed. Even the trousers buttons--which had borne thename of my tailor, a reputable firm in New Bond Street--had beensubstituted. 

But by whom?

On the following afternoon I arrived in London and drove straight toRivermead Mansions. I entered with my latchkey, and on glancing aroundsaw signs that my friend Hambledon was still living there. The fire inthe sitting-room had been lit by the "Kaiserin" ready for hishome-coming, and everything seemed bright and cosy. 

It was then about four o'clock, and Hambledon would certainly notreturn till six. Therefore after a good wash, a shave, and a cleancollar, I set forth for Stretton Street to interview Oswald De Gex. 

The house in the dusk was just as I recollected it on that eventfulnight when I was so unexpectedly called inside. 

I rang the bell three times, until at last the door opened and a tall, stalwart man appeared. 

I inquired for Mr. De Gex, whereupon he replied:

"Mr. De Gex is in Italy, sir. "

"Oh! When did he leave town?"

"About a month ago, sir, " the man answered. 

"You are, I suppose, the caretaker?" I asked. "Now, I wonder if youwill do me a very great favour. You may think me a thief or aburglar, " I laughed, "but the fact is I have a great desire to see Mr. De Gex's house. I've heard so much about its beauties. I wonder if youwould show me the drawing-room and the library?"

The man hesitated, saying:

"Well, sir, I've no orders to show anyone over. Have you a card?"

I at once produced one from my cigarette-case, and added that I was apersonal friend of the millionaire's. He read my name and looked againat me. I assured him that I was not prospecting with a view toburglary. 

"I'm only asking you to do me a favour, " I went on, and I put a coupleof Treasury notes into his hand. "You can inquire about me at myoffice to-morrow, if you like. They will tell you, I expect, that Ihave been away on a month's leave. "

The little palm-oil no doubt propitiated him, for he invited me in. Then he switched on the light in the hall, and as he did so, said:

"I don't know what trouble I'd get into with the master. He's a veryeccentric man--as you, of course, know. "

I laughed as we ascended the soft carpeted stairs. I recollected thepattern. 

A few moments later we were in the library. Yes. It was just as Iremembered it. Nothing had been altered. There was the writing-tablewhereon I had copied out the death certificate; the big fireplace, nowempty, and the deep chair in which I had sat. 

There was the window, too--the window which I had opened in order togasp for air after that suffocating odour of _pot-pourri_. 

As I stood there--the watchful caretaker with his eye upon me, wondering no doubt--I again took in every detail. My return held memore than ever puzzled. 

"What is the room beyond?" I asked. 

"Oh! That's the mistress's bedroom, " he replied. "A curious fancy tohave her room next to the library. But it's one of the best rooms inthe house. The master hates London. He lives all the time in Italy, and is only over here just for a week or two in spring, and a week orso before Christmas. "

"I'd like to see that room, " I said, affecting ignorance. 

He took me in. 

In a second I saw that nothing had been changed since I had stoodthere at the death-bed of Gabrielle Engledue a little over a monthago. 

There was the handsome bed-chamber with its inlaid cupboards, itsgreat dressing-table, and its fine bed--the bed upon which thebeautiful young woman had been lying dead. But now the bed had beenre-made and its quilted coverlet of pale pink silk was undisturbed. 

The corpse had been removed and buried upon my certificate!

I sniffed to see whether I could detect that curious odour of_pot-pourri_, but in vain. The air seemed fresh and not stifling as ithad been on that well-remembered night. 

Upon a side table stood a large photograph in a silver frame. I bentto look at it, whereupon the caretaker said:

"That's a good photograph of Mr. De Gex, isn't it, sir?"

"Excellent, " I said, for it was a really fine portrait. "Does yourmistress come over from Italy often?"

"Oh, yes, and she brings the little boy over with her. She isfrequently here, while her husband stays at Fiesole. I send on hiscorrespondence every day to Mr. Henderson, his secretary. "

I stood gazing around the room. Upon that bed the beautiful girl laydead, and I had certified the cause of her death! Yet I had, later on, been the victim of some devil's trick of which I knew nothing. 

I was there to investigate. Yet though I questioned the caretaker veryclosely, I confess that I met with little success. He was an old andtrusted servant of the family. Hence to many of my inquiries heremained dumb. 

"When do you expect your master back?" I asked at last. 

"Oh, not for another six months or so. "

"Where is Mrs. De Gex?"

"Ah! That I can't quite make out, " he replied. "It's a bit of amystery. One night she went away quite unexpectedly and, as a matterof fact, nobody knows where she is. Her husband doesn't know--orpretends he doesn't, " he said with a knowing grin. 

"Then she has disappeared!" I exclaimed. 

"That's just it. And they were always such a devoted pair. LittleOswald was the only thing she lived for. "

"Lived!" I echoed. "Then do you think she's dead?" I asked quickly. 

"Dead! Why should we think so? If she were, we should surely have seenit in the papers?"

"But your master has very funny fits sometimes, " I said. "I've heardabout his eccentric ways. "

"Of course he has. He's overburdened with money--that's what it is. Mr. Henderson looks after all his affairs. Mr. De Gex has no regardfor money. Mr. Henderson attends to everything. Phew! I wish I were amillionaire! I find it hard enough nowadays to pay the butcher andbaker and make both ends meet. "

"And so do I, " I said, laughing. "But, tell me, where is the younglady who used to live here--Mr. De Gex's niece?"

"His niece! I don't think he has a niece. "

"Miss Gabrielle Engledue. "

"Who's she? I've never heard of her, " was the man's reply. 

I described her, but he shook his head. 

"To my knowledge Mr. De Gex hasn't got a niece, " he said. 

"Were you here five weeks ago?" I inquired. 

"Five weeks ago? No. I and my wife went away down to Swanage to seeher sister. The master gave us a fortnight's holiday. Why?"

"Oh--nothing, " I replied. "I merely inquired as I want to clear up amystery--that's all. "

"What mystery?"

"The mystery of Miss Engledue--your master's niece, " I answered. 

"But I've never heard of any niece, " he said. 

"A young lady of about twenty-one with dark hair and eyes, and abeautiful complexion, " I said. 

But the old servant's mind was a blank. 

"Of course, sir, many people come to visit Mr. De Gex. Horton wouldknow them, but I don't. When the master is in town the servants arehere, and I'm down in Cornwall at the castle. "

"Then you are only here as caretaker when the family is away?"

"That's it, sir, " he said. "But what is the mystery about this younglady? You said you knew Mr. De Gex, and yet you wanted to look overthe house. "

"Yes, " I responded with a laugh. "I have my own object--to clear upthe mystery of Mr. De Gex's niece. "

"Well, as far as I know, he has no niece! But you could easily findout, I suppose!"

The man was evidently no fool. 

"Of course I don't know who comes here, or who stays here when thefamily is in town, " he went on. "I simply come up and look after theplace with my wife. "

"Then you were away in Swanage during the first week of November?" Iasked very seriously. 

"Yes, we went down on the last day of October, and we were back herein the middle of November. My wife's sister was very ill, and herhusband didn't expect her to live. So I remember the dates only toowell. "

"Then the family were in town on the date I mention. "

He considered a moment. 

"Oh! Of course they were. They must have been. "

I glanced again around the room, full of amazement and wonder. 

The man's failure to give me any details regarding the extremelyattractive girl who had died upon his mistress's bed held me grippedin uncertainty. The mystery was even more puzzling now that I hadstarted to investigate. 

As I stood in that room a thousand strange reflections flashed acrossmy mind. 

Why had I, a mere passer-by, been called in so suddenly to be takeninto the intimacy of the millionaire's household? Was it by mereaccident that I had been invited in, or was it by careful design? Ihad lost five thousand pounds by foolish speculation, and yet I hadregained it by being party to a criminal offence. 

Again, who was the pretty, dark-haired girl who had first utteredthose hysterical screams, and then, while fully dressed, had died uponMrs. De Gex's bed? Further, if the mysterious dead girl had been nieceof the millionaire surely my friend the caretaker would have knownher?

I confess that I now became more bewildered than ever. 

That a girl named Gabrielle Engledue--whoever she might have been--haddied, and that I had forged a certificate showing the cause of deathwere hard, solid facts. But the mystery of it all was complete. 

That I had been the victim of some very carefully prepared and subtleplot was apparent, and it had become my own affair to investigate itand bring to justice those who were responsible for the poor girl'sdeath. 

Time after time I questioned the caretaker regarding the existence ofthe millionaire's niece, Miss Engledue, but it was plain to me that hehad no knowledge of any such person. 

"Was there not a death in this house--about five weeks ago?" I asked. 

"Death?" he echoed. "Why, no, sir. You must be dreaming. If there hadbeen a death while I was away, either my wife or I would certainlyhave heard about it. " And he looked suspiciously at me as though hebelieved I had taken leave of my senses. 

An hour later I was back at Rivermead Mansions, where Harry, for whomI had left a note, was awaiting me. 

As we sat together before a cheerful fire I told him of my lapse intounconsciousness, of my loss of memory, but I did not explain all thathad happened, for, as a matter of fact, I had no desire that anyoneshould know of my guilt in posing as a medical man and thus becomingimplicated in the mysterious death of Gabrielle Engledue. 

My friend sat and heard me, smoking his pipe in silence. 

"Extraordinary!" he said. "You ought to go to the police, Garfield. You were doped--without a doubt. But what was the motive? I've beenvery worried about you. When you had been missing a week they sentover from your office, and I then went to the police at Hammersmith. They made every inquiry and circulated your description. But theycould discover no trace of you. I'll have to report that you've beenfound. "

"Yes, do so to-morrow morning, " I urged. "I don't want the policefollowing me about--thank you, " and I laughed, rather grimly perhaps. 

During the hours that I lay awake that night a thought suddenlycrossed my mind--an idea which next day I promptly put into execution. 

I went to Somerset House, and there searched the register of deaths. At first my efforts were in vain, but at last I discovered what Isought, namely an entry that a young woman named Gabrielle Engledue, single, aged twenty-one, of unknown parentage, had died of hearttrouble at No. 9 Stretton Street, Park Lane, on the night of Novemberthe Seventh, the body having been cremated five days later!

I pursued my inquiries in various quarters that day, and furtherdiscovered that the funeral expenses had been defrayed by some personnamed Moroni. There had been only two mourners, of whom Moroni hadbeen one. 

Still feeling very ill, I was compelled--after reporting to theoffice--to remain at home for the three days which followed. 

To the two heads of the firm I fear the story that I told must haveappeared somewhat lame, yet they exhibited no disbelief, but on thecontrary sympathized with me in my strange and unaccountableaffliction. 

In a drawer in my bedroom lay the five thousand pounds in bank notesjust as Oswald De Gex had given to me. I, of course, said nothing ofthem to Harry. But once or twice I drew them from the old envelope inwhich I had placed them, and turned them over in wonder. 

I decided that they would be safer in the bank, but I hesitated toplace them to my credit, so I at last put them away in the bottom ofan old writing-case which had belonged to my father, resolving to tryto forget their existence. 

Though perhaps I did at last manage to forget the bribe, yet I couldnot put from myself the memory of that beautiful girl, the cause ofwhose death I had certified. The perfect countenance haunted meconstantly. In my dreams I often saw her alive and well. Themarvellous face was turned towards me, with merry, dancing dark eyesand a tantalizing smile--an enticing smile of mystery. 

At last I resolved to go and face Oswald De Gex, so with that object Ione morning left Charing Cross for Florence. Travelling by the Romeexpress from the Gare de Lyon, in Paris, I changed at Pisa, and atlast, as the "snail train, " as it is known in Italy on account of itsslowness, wound slowly up the beautiful valley of the Arno, the oldred roofs and domes of Firenze La Bella came into view. 

The winter morning was sunny and brilliant with a clear blue sky, andas I drove through the streets, past the marble-built Duomo with itswonderful campanile, the city was agog, for it happened to be the_Festa_ of the Befana. 

I had left my bag at the station, and the taxi took me to Fiesole, thehigh-up little town outside which lived the "rich Inglese"--Oswald DeGex. 

Long before we arrived the driver pointed out the huge, mediævalcountry house situated among the olives and vines, and commandingextensive views over Florence and the Arno, with the blue mountainsbeyond. It was a great white house with red tiles and overhangingeaves, palatial indeed in its dimensions, and for centuries the summerresidence of the head of the great family of Clementini, from whom theEnglish millionaire had bought it fifteen years before, together withall its pictures, tapestries, and antiques, with the farms adjoining. 

On entering the great gates of seventeenth century wrought iron, wefound ourselves in a glorious old-world Italian garden, with awonderful marble fountain, and a good deal of antique statuary, andthen driving through the extensive grounds--past a lake--I at lastrang the bell. 

Quickly the great iron-studded door was opened by an elderlyEnglishman in livery, to whom I gave my card, and asked to see hismaster. 

The man, without hesitation, ushered me through a huge marble-builthall, with a wonderfully frescoed ceiling, into a large room hung withpriceless tapestry, and furnished with old gilt chairs covered withfaded green silk damask. 

I, however, took very little note of my surroundings, so anxious was Ito again meet my host of Stretton Street face to face. 

Not long did I have to wait before the door opened, and he stoodbefore me. 

"Well, Mr. Garfield?" he asked quietly, as he advanced. "To what do Iowe the honour of this visit?"

"Ah!" I cried. "Then you recollect me, I see! You know my name?"

"Yes. It was upon your card, " was his quiet reply. "But, forgive me, Ido not recollect ever having met you before!"

I held my breath. I tried to speak, but for the moment words failedme, so angry was I at his cleverly pretended ignorance and flatdenial. 

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

FACING THE MUSIC

"Do you seriously mean to say that you have no knowledge of me?" Idemanded angrily, looking the millionaire straight in the face. 

"Yes, sir, " he replied. "I seriously mean what I say. But, tell me, "he demanded resentfully, "why are you here to claim acquaintance withme?"

"Do you really deny you have ever seen me before?" I asked, astoundedat his barefaced pretence of ignorance. 

"Never to my knowledge, " replied the sallow-faced man whosecountenance I so well recollected. 

"Then you forget a certain night not so long ago when I was calledinto your house in Stretton Street, and you chatted confidentiallywith me--about your wife and your little son?"

"My dear sir!" he cried. "Whatever do you mean? I have never seen youat Stretton Street; and I have certainly never discussed my wife withyou!"

I stood aghast at his continued denial. 

"But you _did_, " I asserted. "And there was another matter--a matterabout which I must question you--the----"

"Ah! I see!" he interrupted. "You're here to blackmail me--eh?Well--let me hear the worst, " and across his rather Oriental facethere spread a mocking, half amused smile. 

"I am not a blackmailer!" I protested angrily. "I want no money--onlyto know the truth. "

"Of what?"

"Well, the truth concerning the death of Miss Gabrielle Engledue. "

"The death of Miss Gabrielle Engledue!" he cried. "I really don'tunderstand you, Mr. --Mr. Garfield!"

At mention of the name I saw that he started, but almostimperceptibly. The man was certainly a most perfect actor, and hisprotestations of ignorance were, indeed, well-feigned. 

"Then you actually deny all knowledge of the young lady!" I said. 

"I know no lady of that name. "

"But she is your niece. "

"I have only one niece--Lady Shalford. "

"And how old is she?"

He hesitated for a few moments. Then he answered. 

"Oh! She must be about thirty-five. She married Shalford about tenyears ago, and she lives at Wickenham Grange, near Malton, inYorkshire. "

"And you have no other niece?"

"None--I assure you. But why do you ask such a question? You puzzleme. "

"Not more than you puzzle me, Mr. De Gex, " I replied with pique. "Itwould be so much easier if you would be frank and open with me. "

"My dear sir, you seem to me to have a bee in your bonnet aboutsomething or other. Tell me, now, what is it?"

"Simply that you know me very well, but you deny it. You never thoughtthat I should make this unwelcome reappearance. "

"Your appearance here as a mad-brained person is certainlyunwelcome, " he retorted. "You first tell me that you visited me atStretton Street. Well, you may have been in the servants' quarters forall I know, and----"

"Please do not be insulting!" I cried angrily. 

"I have no intention of offering you an insult, sir, but your attitudeis so very extraordinary! You speak of a girl named Engledue--that wasthe name, I think--and allege that she is my niece. Why?"

"Because the young lady is dead--she died under most suspiciouscircumstances. And you know all about it!" I said bluntly. 

"Oh! perhaps you will allege that I am a murderer next!" he laughed, as though enjoying the joke. 

"It is no laughing matter!" I cried in fury. 

"Why not? I find all your allegations most amusing, " and across hisdark handsome face there spread a good-humoured smile. 

His was a face that I could never forget. At one moment its expressionwas kindly and full of _bonhomie_, the next it was hard andunrelenting--the face of an eccentric criminal. 

"To me they are the reverse of amusing, " I said. "I allege that on thenight of Wednesday, November the seventh last, I was passing yourhouse in Stretton Street, Park Lane, when your man, Horton, invited meinside, and--well, well--I need not describe what occurred there, foryou recollect only too vividly--without a doubt. But what I demand toknow is why you asked me in, and what happened to me after you gave methat money?"

"Money! I gave you money?" he cried. "Why, man alive, you're dreaming!_You must be!_"

"I'm not dreaming at all! It is a hard fact. Indeed, I still have themoney--five thousand pounds in bank notes. "

Oswald De Gex looked at me strangely. His sallow face colouredslightly, and his lips compressed. I had cornered him. A littlefurther firmness, and he would no doubt admit that we had met atStretton Street. 

"Look here, Mr. Garfield, " he said in a changed voice. "This is beyonda joke. You now tell me that I presented you with five thousandpounds. "

"I do--and I repeat it. "

"But why should I give you this sum?"

"Because I assisted you in the commission of a crime. "

"That's a lie!" he declared vehemently. "Forgive me for saying so, butI can only think that you are not quite in your right mind. "

"I have not been in my right mind for a month or more--thanks to yourdeep plotting, " I retorted sharply. "Further, I am telling thetruth--as I shall later on tell it before a court of law. I intend tosolve the mystery of the death of Gabrielle Engledue. "

"Well--I will not hinder you, " he laughed grimly. 

"You mean that you will not assist me?"

"I mean that I have no knowledge of any such person; nor have I anyknowledge of you, " he said. "A perfect stranger, you come here, present your card, and at once start a series of most seriousallegations against me, the chief of them being that I gave you fivethousand pounds for some assistance which you refuse to describe. "

"If I tell you, you will only deny it, Mr. De Gex, " I exclaimedbitterly. "So what is the use?"

"None. In fact I don't see that any object is to be gained inprolonging this interview, " was his quick retort. "If, as you say, Igave you five thousand--which I certainly never did--then what morecan you want? I however, suspect that the five thousand exists only inyour own imagination. "

"But I have the sum intact--in a drawer at my home in London. "

"It would be of interest to see it. Are they the same notes which yousay I gave you?"

"The same, " I answered, and then I went on to tell him how I hadawakened to find myself in St. Malo, and how the French police hadtaken possession of the money found upon me. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed at last. "It all seems quite clear now. You've hada bad illness, my dear fellow! Your brain has become unbalanced, andyou are now subject to hallucinations. I regret my hard words, Mr. Garfield, " he added in a kindly tone. "I also regret that your mentalstate is what it is. "

"I desire no sympathy!" I protested, raising my voice angrily. "All Iwant to know is the truth. "

"I have already told you that, as far as I am personally concerned. "

"No. You have denied everything, and now you try to treat me as onedemented!" I declared in a fury. "The existence of the bank notes yougave me are sufficient evidence against you. "

"I think not. First, I doubt if they exist anywhere save in yourimagination; secondly, if they do, then someone else may have giventhem to you. "

"You did. I would recognize you among ten thousand men. On the nightin question you wore a dinner jacket, and now you are in grey. That isall the difference. "

"Well, have it your own way, " he replied smiling, though I could seethat he had become palpably perturbed by my allegations. Whatever hadbeen administered to me--some dope or other, no doubt--it had beenintended that I should be cast adrift on the Continent as asemi-imbecile. 

It was that fact which maddened me. The poor girl might not have beenhis niece, of course, but whoever she had been, this man had had somevery strange and distinct motive in getting rid of her. 

What it was I had vowed to discover. 

It was apparent that De Gex was anxious to get rid of me. Indeed, aswe stood together in that fine old room, across the marble floor ofwhich strayed long beams of sunlight, the door opened and a prettywoman came in. She was dressed to go out, and asked:

"Will you be long, dear?"

It was the beautiful Mrs. De Gex! In an instant I recognized her bythe many photographs I had seen in the picture papers. 

"No. I'll be with you in a minute, dear. Is the car there?" he asked. 

"It's been there a quarter of an hour, and if we don't go now we shallbe late in meeting Hylda at the station, " she said, glancing at mewith undisguised annoyance. 

Then she left, closing the door after her. 

Across my brain ran strange thoughts. I recollected his words inStretton Street regarding his spiteful wife when I had been called into listen to his matrimonial troubles. But husband and wife nowappeared to be on quite amicable and even affectionate terms. 

I confess that I was still bewildered, as you, my reader, in whom I amhere reposing confidence, would, I believe, have been, had you foundyourself in similar circumstances. 

"I see that your wife is eager to go out, " I said. "But I fear Imust, before I go, press for a direct answer to my questions, Mr. DeGex. "

"My dear sir, I have answered them. What more can I say?" he exclaimedwith affected dismay. 

"A very great deal. You can tell me the truth. "

"I have, " he snapped. "Who this girl Engledue is I have not a ghost ofan idea. Are you certain she is dead?"

"Positive. I saw her lying dead in the room which adjoins yourlibrary. "

"What! My wife's room!" he cried. "Oh, come--let us finish all thissilly talk. "

"When you are, at least, frank with me!"

"I am. "

"But do you deny that the young lady, Gabrielle Engledue, died there?Do you not recollect that we both stood at her death-bed?"

"Don't talk such piffle!" De Gex snapped, no doubt believing in theend that he would convince me of his ignorance of the whole tragedy. 

Whatever had happened on that November night was, no doubt, to thedistinct advantage of the wealthy man who stood before me. Yet I wasfaced with a difficulty. He had uttered that most ugly word"blackmail. " Suppose he called the police and accused me of it! Hisword--the word of a wealthy financier--would, no doubt, be taken by ajury before my own!

On the other hand, I had up my sleeve a trump-card--the death andcremation of the mysterious Gabrielle Engledue. Probably the poorvictim was poisoned--hence the object of her cremation to remove alltraces of it! Yet, opposed to that, there still remained my own mostserious offence of posing as a medical man and giving a forgedcertificate concerning the cause of death. 

Yes. I was only too keenly alive to my own very precarious position. Yet I was emboldened by De Gex's agitation, and the pallor in hissallow cheeks. 

He was, no doubt, feeling very uneasy. And even a millionaire can feeluneasy when faced with a witness of his own offence. 

"Mr. De Gex, I am not talking rubbish, " I said in all seriousness. "You appear to forget that night when your wife deserted your son inWestbourne Grove, and then laughed at you over the telephone from apublic call-office. "

He looked at me very straight with those deep-set eyes of his. 

"Really, " he exclaimed. "That is quite a new feature in the affair. Let me see, what did I tell you?"

"Your man, Horton, invited me, a mere passer-by, into your house inStretton Street. He said you were very much worried and asked if Iwould meet you. Why? I cannot imagine. When we met you were very vaguein your statements, and at first I could not for the life of mediscover why I had been asked to meet you. But soon you confided to methe fact that your wife, being spiteful towards you, had abandonedyour heir, little Oswald, in Westbourne Grove, and had then rung upfrom a call-office telling you to find him. "

"Bosh! My dear fellow! Bosh!" was his reply. "First, you were neverthere; and secondly, I've never complained of my wife's behaviour toanyone; certainly not to a stranger. "

"You did to me. I certainly am not dreaming. "

"But you have already admitted that you've been in hospital in St. Malo suffering from loss of memory. "

"My memory has now fortunately been restored, " I replied. 

"Distorted--without a doubt. You would never travel all the way fromLondon to relate these absolutely silly stories to me if you were inyour right senses, my dear Mr. Garfield, " he said. 

"They're not silly stories, but hard, indisputable facts!" I declaredresentfully. 

The millionaire had assumed an air of nonchalance, for leaning againsta big old buhl table he took out a cigarette from his gold case andslowly lit it, after which he said:

"You must, I think, really excuse me. We have to go down into Florenceto meet my sister-in-law, who is coming from London. I'm afraid, Mr. Garfield, that I cannot help you any further. "

"You mean you won't!"

"Not at all. If I knew anything of this young lady who, you said, diedin my wife's bedroom in Stretton Street, and at whose bedside you andI stood together, I would tell you. But I really don't. "

He tossed his cigarette hastily out of the open window. 

"No, " he added. "I won't hear any more. I haven't the time or theinclination to listen to the wanderings of any insane person. I've hadenough!"

"And so have I!" I retorted. "You are trying to mislead me byaffecting ignorance of my very existence, but I don't intend that youshall escape!" I added, again raising my voice. 

"Hush, please, " he said in a calmer tone. "My wife may overhear. "

"I don't care!" I cried in desperation. "You never dreamed that Ishould arise against you, as I have. You are not fair towards me! Ifyou revealed to me in confidence the reason you gave me that bribe offive thousand pounds, then I, on my part, would have played thestraight game. "

"My dear sir, play whatever game you like. It is immaterial to mewhether straight or crooked. I don't know anything about what you havebeen talking, and you have only wasted your breath and got out oftemper for nothing. "

Again I looked him straight in the face. There was no doubt that thestrain of his clever denials was telling upon him. His dark complexionhad paled; in his eyes there was a fierce, haunted look as that of aman who was straining every effort to remain calm under the gravestcircumstances. 

"I have no game to play, " I declared. "I only demand the truth. Whywas I invited into your house in Stretton Street to be present aswitness at the poor girl's death?"

"I don't know. Find out for yourself, my dear Mr. Garfield, " laughedthe rich man. "I have no time to discuss this silly affair further. I'm sorry you have troubled to come out from London to see me. Butreally yours has been a fool's errand, " and he turned towards thedoor. 

"A fool's errand!" I echoed. "I am no fool and my errand is in deepearnestness. You may try to befool me, but I tell you that I willleave no stone unturned to solve the problem which you alone canexplain. "

"Well, get along with your work, " he laughed in open defiance. "I haveno further time to waste, " and glancing at his watch he opened thedoor and abruptly left me. 

CHAPTER THE FIFTH

THE CITY OF THE LILY

Full of indignation I remained for a few further moments in thatwonderful old room, the room of faded tapestries with the marvellouspainted ceiling. 

From the window was afforded a glorious view over the gardens where, even in winter, tangled masses of flowers ran riot, while beyond laythe picturesque old red-roofed Tuscan city. Fiesole is distinctly avillage of the wealthy, for the several colossal villas, built in thedays of the Medici and even before, are now owned by rich foreigners, many of them English. 

Oswald De Gex was one of them. 

He had certainly foiled me. I gritted my teeth and vowed that, comewhat might, I would compel him to accept the inevitable and reveal tome the truth. I left the room and found my way alone across the greatmarble entrance hall, and out to where my taxi awaited me. 

I drove back to Florence, where, at the station, I obtained my bag, and then went to the Savoy Hotel in the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, where I engaged a room. 

For a long time I sat at my window gazing down upon the busy squarebelow, one of the centres of Florentine life. The bell of the Duomowas ringing, the shops were mostly closed, and all Florence was out inthe streets, it being the Festa of the Befana, one of the greatest ofall the ever-recurring festas of Florence. Street urchins wereparading the thoroughfares with horns and wildly shouting, and therewas an exchange of presents on every hand. At the Befana everyone inFirenze goes mad with good intentions. 

The artistic side of the ancient Lily City did not interest me. I knewit of old. I had strolled on the Lung Arno, I had long ago with myfather on a winter tour looked into the little shops of the coral andpearl merchants on the Ponte Vecchio, and I had taken my _apératif_ atDoney's or at Giacosa's. I was no stranger in Florence. My mind wasfully occupied by the deep mystery of Gabrielle Engledue's death, andof the millionaire's flat denial that we had ever met before. 

As I sat gazing across the square my anger and indignation increased. That De Gex should have dared to affect such entire ignorancesurpassed belief. 

I tried to form a scheme for further action, but could think of no wayby which to force him to acknowledge our previous meeting. That thebeautiful girl had died, and that her body had been cremated upon thefalse certificate I had given, was beyond all doubt. But what had beenthe rich man's motive?

How very perturbed and anxious he was I had noticed, though he putsuch a very brave face upon it and appeared so imperturbable. That hecould treat such a serious matter as a joke utterly amazed me. Nevertheless, I recollected that he had long earned the reputation ofbeing highly eccentric. 

That afternoon I spent in wandering about the sunny streets ofFlorence. In the evening I dined at Bonciani's, in the Via Panzani, anunpretentious place at which I well remembered having eaten famouslywhen on my last visit to Florence. Afterwards, having nothing to do, Iwent to a variety show at the Alhambra. 

Florence was full of French and English visitors, as it always is inwinter, so next day I formed a plan, and in pretence of desiring torent a furnished flat, I called at the office of a well-known Englishhouse-agent in the Via Tornabuoni. My real object was to ascertainsome facts concerning Oswald De Gex. 

The English clerk became quite enthusiastic when I mentioned him. 

"Mr. De Gex is greatly respected here, " he hastened to tell me. "Sincehe bought the Villa Clementini outside Fiesole he has lived here forabout eight months out of the twelve. Italians love rich people, andbecause of his wealth he is most popular. I see a good deal of him, for we act as agents for his property in Italy. He has quite a largeestate--mostly wine-growing. "

I mentioned that I had met him in London, and then asked in curiosity:

"Do you happen to know anything of his niece, a tall, very handsome, dark-haired girl, Miss Engledue?"

For a moment he reflected. Then he said:

"I recollect when up at the villa just before he went to London--thatwas about three months ago--seeing a tall, dark-haired young lady. Shecame into the library while I was chatting with him. But I don't knowher name. "

"Was she about twenty-one?" I asked eagerly. 

"Yes--about that age, " was his reply. "But, of course, I have no ideawhether it is the young lady you mean. "

"Had you seen her before?"

"I think so--once before. She was in the car in the Cascine with Mrs. De Gex. "

"I wonder how I could discover more about her?" I asked. "Who wouldknow?"

"Robertson, the butler, or Mr. Henderson, the secretary. "

"The butler would be best, " I said. "How could I approach him, do youthink? I don't want to go up to the villa. "

"It would be easy. He's often down at the Gambrinus in the afternoon. I frequently meet him there, and we have a drink and a chat. "

"Would he be there this afternoon? I do wish you would introduce me, "I urged. "The matter is an important personal one concerning myself. "

"He might be down this afternoon--about four o'clock, " replied thealert young Englishman who spoke Italian so well. "I'll look in thereat four, if you will be about. "

"I certainly will be there, " I said, and then we went along toGiacosa's, where we each had that cocktail-like speciality known as a"piccolo. "

At five minutes to four that afternoon I entered the big GambrinusCafé, which was nearly opposite my hotel on the other side of thepiazza, and I took a seat just inside the door. The orchestra wasplaying, and the place was well filled with a gay cosmopolitan crowd, many of them winter idlers. 

I looked around, wondering if the butler, Robertson, had arrived, andwaited in patience for the coming of my friend. 

Punctually at four he appeared, and greeting me, cast his eyes overthe many small tables, until suddenly he exclaimed:

"Ah! There he is!"

We walked to a table some distance away, where a stoutish, grey-haired, clean-shaven Englishman was smoking a cigarette andreading a newspaper, with a glass of vermouth and seltzer before him. 

"Hallo, Arthur!" he exclaimed as he raised his eyes to my friend. 

"This is a friend of mine, Mr. Garfield, " my companion said, introducing me, and then we sat down and began to chat. At last Icould possess myself in patience no longer, and addressing themillionaire's butler, told him frankly that I was in search ofinformation concerning the dark-haired young lady who had been guestup at the villa about three months ago. 

"Oh! I suppose you mean Miss Thurston--the young American lady, don'tyou? But she's fair-haired!"

"The lady I mean is named Engledue, " I replied. 

"Oh! I don't know anyone of that name, " was his reply. "Miss Thurstonhas stayed with us in London and down in Cornwall, and has been hereseveral times. I fancy she's some relation of the mistress's. Shefirst came to stay about three years ago, when she left school inParis. Then she went home to America, and after six months came backagain to us. "

"You haven't any idea who her parents are--or where she lived inAmerica?"

"She lived somewhere near Detroit, I believe. That's all I know abouther. I believe her people are motor-car makers and extremely wealthy. At least, somebody said so--and she's very free with tips to theunder-servants. "

"When did she leave here?"

"When the master went to London. I was to go too, but I had influenzaand had to remain here. "

"And where was Mrs. De Gex?" I inquired. 

"She was already at Stretton Street. She and the little boy went toLondon early in October, but came back at the end of the month. "

Then I questioned the estimable Robertson concerning the domestichappiness of his master. I said I had heard rumours in London ofmatrimonial differences. 

"Well, that's a lie, " he replied quickly. "There isn't a pair in thewhole of London Society who are more devoted to each other. "

This greatly surprised me after the words that had fallen from themillionaire's lips. 

Again I referred to the mysterious Gabrielle whom I described asminutely as I was able, and apparently my description fitted that ofRose Thurston, save for the colour of her hair. 

"You have no idea where she is, I suppose?"

"Not the slightest. Back in America, perhaps. She seems to come overevery year. "

"I wonder if you could find out her address?" I asked. "If you could, it would be of very great service to me, " and I handed him my card, expressing a hope that he would refrain from mentioning the matter tohis master. 

"I'll try, " he said. "But I fear I shan't succeed. Mr. Henderson, themaster's secretary, would know, of course. "

The point at issue now was whether the young American girl, who hadbeen the millionaire's guest at the villa, and Gabrielle Engledue wereactually one and the same person. If they were, then I had made onestep towards the solution of the enigma. 

I confess to utter bewilderment. My brain was still confused. Sometimes my skull seemed wrapped in cotton wool. From a mereunimportant person in the world of electrical engineering I hadsuddenly become a man upon whom rested a great and criminalresponsibility!

In that huge, garish café, with its great arc lamps glowing thoughnight had not yet fallen, and with a noisy orchestra playingselections from the latest crazes of music from the revues in London, I sat with a perfectly open mind. I had been the victim of someextremely clever plot. But of its motive, of its ramifications, or ofits conception, I had no knowledge. Even my wildest imagination was atfault. 

All I knew was that the sallow-faced De Gex--the millionaire who livedup at the huge Villa Clementini--had plotted against the handsomegirl, and she had died in his wife's bedroom in Stretton Street. 

"Well, Mr. Robertson, how can I find out anything more about MissThurston? Give me your advice. "

"I'll try and see what I can do, " he said. "Perhaps I may be able toget a glance at the mistress's address book. I have seen it. I'lltry. "

"Yes--do!" I said very anxiously. "It means so very much to me. "

"Why?"

I hesitated. My intention was to mislead both of my companions. 

"Well, " I said with a laugh, "the fact is, I--I'm very fond of her!"

Both men exchanged glances. Then they smiled, almost imperceptibly, Iknow, but it struck them as humorous that I had fallen in love withthe daughter of a wealthy American. 

"Of course I'm not yet certain whether she is the same lady, " I wenton. "She may not be. But on calm consideration I believe she is. Thedescription you give of her is exact. "

"Well, " exclaimed the butler, "I'll see if I can get at the addressbook. She keeps it in a drawer in her boudoir, which is usuallylocked. But sometimes she leaves it open. At any rate, I'll see what Ican do and let you know. "

I thanked him and told him that I was staying at the Savoy. Then I wascompelled to discuss with the estate-agent's clerk the pretendedrenting of an apartment out by the Porta Romana, which, he said, wasvacant. 

On the following day, in order to still sustain the deception, I wentand viewed the place, and found it really quite comfortable and veryreasonable. But, of course, I was compelled to express dislike of it. Whereupon my friend promised to find me another. 

Day after day I waited in Florence, hoping against hope that Robertsonwould be able to furnish me with Miss Thurston's address. But though Isaw him several times he reported that the drawer containing theaddress book was still locked. 

Mr. De Gex had gone to Rome, and was away for three days. The BritishAmbassador was giving some official function and the millionaire hadbeen invited. Indeed, I read all about it in the _Nazione_. 

On the fourth day he returned, for I saw him in his big yellow cardriving along the Via Calzajoli. An elegant Italian, the youngMarchese Cerretani, was seated at his side, and both were laughingtogether. 

Twice I had been up to the Villa Clementini, and wandered around itshigh white walls which hid the beautiful gardens from the public gaze. Surely there was no fairer spot in all sunny Italy than that chosen bythe rich man as his abode. To the hundreds of visitors of all nations, who came up by train to Fiesole from Florence to lunch or dine at thevarious pleasant little restaurants, the great imposing place waspointed out as the residence of the rich "Inglese"--the man whopossessed more money than any of the most wealthy in the kingdom ofItaly. 

When I thought of that fateful night in Stretton Street, I waxedfurious. Was it possible, that, by the possession of great riches, aman could commit crime with impunity? Perhaps what goaded me todesperation more than anything was the foul trick that had been playedupon me--the administration of that drug which had caused me to loseall sense of my own being. 

That subtle odour of _pot-pourri_ had gripped me until I felt faintand inert beneath its perfume, and it often returned to me--but infancy, of course. 

In the winter sunshine I wandered about the busy, old-world streets ofFlorence, idling in the cafés, gazing into the many shop-windows ofthe dealers in faked pictures and faked antiques, while often mywandering footsteps led me into one or other of the "sights" of thecity, all of which I had visited before--the National Museum at theBargello, the Laurenziana Library, with its rows of priceless chainedmanuscripts, the Chiostro dello Scalzo, where Andrea del Sarto'swonderful frescoes adorn the walls, or into the Palazzo Vecchio, orthe galleries of the Pitti, or the Uffizi. I was merely killing timein the faint hope that the good-natured Robertson might get for me theinformation which, in the circumstances, I was naturally most eager toobtain. 

In the course of my erratic wanderings through the grand old city, with its host of monuments of a glorious past, I was one morningpassing the great marble-built cathedral and noticed a number ofpeople entering. There seemed to be an unusual number of visitors, sohaving nothing to do I passed through the narrow door into the sombregloom of the magnificent old place--one of the most noteworthy andmost beautiful sacred buildings in the world. 

At first, entering from the bright sunshine of the piazza, I couldscarcely see, so dim was the huge interior, but slowly my vision, rather bad since my strange adventure, grew accustomed to thehalf-darkness, and I saw that upon the high altar there were many longcandles burning in their brass sconces and before the high altar threepriests in gorgeous vestments were kneeling. 

In the great cavernous place, with its choir beneath the dome, I heardlow prayers in Latin. Men and women who passed me bowed and crossedthemselves while many knelt. 

The glorious cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, so called from theLily which figures in the Arms of Florence--hence "the Lily City"--hadalways an attraction for me, as it has for every visitor to theancient Tuscan capital. The stained glass of Ghiberti, the wonderfulmosaics of Gaddo Gaddi, the frescoes of angels by Santi di Tito, andthe beautiful pictures by the great mediæval masters, all aremarvellous, and worth crossing the world to see. 

From before the altar a long spiral mist of incense was rising, andabout me as I stood in the centre of the enormous interior, manyvisitors were passing out from the dim religious gloom into the lightof the open doorway. 

Suddenly my eyes caught sight of a countenance. 

I held my breath, standing rooted to the spot. What I saw staggeredbelief. Was it only a chimera of my unbalanced imagination--or was itactual fact?

For a few seconds I remained undecided. Then, aghast and amazed, Ibecame convinced that it was a stern reality. 

The mystery of the affair at Stretton Street became in that singlemoment a problem even more than ever bewildering. 

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

ANOTHER PUZZLE

Kneeling before Donatello's magnificent picture of the Virgin over oneof the side altars, her outline dimly illuminated by the light of manycandles, was a slim, dark-haired young woman in deep mourning. Herhead was bowed in an attitude of great devotion, but a few momentslater, when she raised her face, I stood rooted to the spot. 

The countenance was that of the dead girl Gabrielle Engledue!

An involuntary exclamation left my lips, and a woman standing near meheard me, and wondered. 

Kneeling beside the girl in black was a thin-faced, black-hairedItalian of about forty-five. He was somewhat handsome, though asinister expression played about his lips. 

I watched the pair for several minutes, wondering whether in my brain, unbalanced as it had been, the scene was a mere chimera on my part andthat, after all, the girl only slightly resembled the victim atStretton Street. 

The latter I had not seen in life, and death always alters thefeatures. Nevertheless, the sudden encounter was most startling, andfrom where I stood behind a great marble column I watched them. 

At last both rose and crossing themselves piously, walked slowly tothe door. I followed them. It surely could not be that the girl whosedeath certificate I had forged, and whose body had been reduced toashes, was actually alive and well! I recollected that sum of fivethousand pounds, and the strange adventures which had befallen meafter I had accepted the bribe to pose as a doctor, and certify thatdeath had been due to natural causes. 

Outside in the bright sunlight of the Piazza, I obtained a full viewof her. Her rather shabby black was evidently of good material, buther face struck me as distinctly strange. The expression in her darkluminous eyes was fixed, as though she were fascinated and utterlyunconscious of all about her. She walked mechanically, withoutinterest, and utterly heedless of where she went. Her companion's handwas upon her arm as she crossed to the Via Calzajoli, and I wonderedif she were blind. 

I had never before seen such a blank, hopeless expression in a woman'seyes. 

The man, on the contrary, was shrewd and alert. His close-set eyesshot shrewd glances from beneath black bushy eyebrows with a keen, penetrating gaze, as though nothing escaped him. He seemed to betrying to hurry her, in fear of being recognized. He had not noticedme, hence in the bustle of the busy street I managed to get up closebehind them, when of a sudden, I heard her exclaim:

"Not so fast! Really I can't walk so fast!"

She spoke in English!

Her companion, uncouth and heedless, still had his hand upon her arm, hurrying her along without slackening his pace. She seemed like a girlin a dream. Truly, she was very handsome, a strange tragic figure amidall the hubbub of Florence, the old-world city of noise and of narrowstreets, where Counts and _contadini_ rub shoulders, and thetradesmen are ever on the look out to profit--if only a fewsoldi--upon the innocent foreigner. 

Firenze la Bella--or Florence as the average Englishman knows it--issurely a city of strange people and of strange moods. By thediscordant clanging of its church bells the laughter-lovingFlorentines are moved to gaiety, or to piety, and by the dailyarticles in the local journals, the _Nazione_ or the _Fieramosca_, they can be incited to riot or violence. The Tuscans, finearistocratic nobles with ten centuries of lineage behind them, andsplendid peasants with all their glorious traditions of feudalservitude under the "nobile, " are, after all, like children, with asimplicity that is astounding, combined with a cunning that isamazing. 

Along the Via Calzajoli I followed the pair in breathless eagerness. At that hour of the morning the central thoroughfare is alwayscrowded by business men, cooks out shopping, and open-mouthed_forestieri_--the foreigners who come, guide-book in hand, togaze at and admire the thousand wonderful monuments of the ancientcity of Medici. The girl's face certainly resembled very closely thatof the dead girl Gabrielle Engledue. The countenance I had seen atStretton Street was white and lifeless, while that of the girl wasfresh and rosy. Nevertheless, that blank expression upon her face, and the fact that her companion had linked his arm in hers, bothpointed to the fact that either her vision was dim, or her great darkeyes were actually sightless. The man was fairly well dressed, butthe girl was very shabby. Her rusty black, her cheap stockings, herdown-at-heel shoes, and her faded hat combined to present a pictureof poverty. Indeed, the very fact of the neglect of her dress wasincreasing evidence that her vision was dim, for surely she would notgo forth with the rent in the elbow of her blouse. Did she know thatit was torn?

Just as we were passing the ancient church of Or San Michele, with itswonderful armorial bearings by Luca della Robbia, an old man with longwhite hair and beard, whom I took to be one of the mangy painters whocopy the masterpieces in the Uffizi or the Pitti, passed by, andraising his hat, wished the pair: _"Buon giorno!"_

The girl's companion returned the salute with a slight expression ofannoyance, perhaps at being recognized, but the girl took no notice, and did not acknowledge him. 

The man uttered some words in the girl's ear, and then hurried her onmore quickly, at the same time glancing furtively around. It was quiteplain that he had no wish to be seen there, hence my curiosity becameincreased. 

Every moment I, however, feared that he might realize I was followingthem; but I did not mean that they should escape me. 

In the Piazza della Signorina they halted opposite that great oldprison-like building, the Palazzo Vecchio, where several people wereawaiting an omnibus, and as they stood there the girl, who bore such astriking resemblance to the dead niece of the millionaire, staredstraight before her, taking no notice of anything about her, astrange, statuesque, pathetic figure, inert and entirely guided by theferret-eyed man at her side. 

I was compelled to draw back and watch them from a distance, hopingthat I might be successful in following them to their destination. Itcertainly was strange that the girl who was so much like GabrielleEngledue should be there in Florence, within a mile or two of De Gex'svilla!

As I watched, yet another person--a well-dressed woman of aboutforty--recognizing the girl's companion, smiled as she passed, whilehe, on his part, raised his hat. The woman who had passed struck me asbeing either English or American, for there are many English-speakingresidents in Florence. For a second I debated within myself, and thena moment later I followed her until she turned a corner in the Via diPorta Rossa. Then I hurried, and overtaking her politely raised myhat. 

"I trust you will pardon me, Madame, " I exclaimed in English, as shestarted and looked at me askance. "I presume you are either English orAmerican?"

"I am American, " she replied with a pronounced drawl. 

"Please forgive my inquisitiveness, but I seek your aid in a littlematter which is of greatest consequence to me, " I went on. "A momentago, as you crossed the Piazza, you encountered an Italian gentlemanand a girl. Could you tell me the gentleman's name?"

"What, the person I bowed to a moment ago?" she exclaimed. "Oh! that'sDoctor Moroni. "

Moroni! I recollected the name. He was one of the mourners!

"And the girl?" I asked. 

"Ah! I do not know. I saw her out with an old woman the other day. ButI have no idea who she is. "

"Is Doctor Moroni a doctor of medicine?" I inquired. 

"Yes. The people at the _pension_ of the Lung Arno where I live, always call him in. I was ill six months ago, and he attended me. Helives in the Via Cavezzo, near the Porta Romona--number six, Ibelieve. "

"I am sure I am extremely obliged to you, " I replied very gratefully. "I have a very strong reason for asking these questions--reasons whichconcern the young lady, " I added. 

The American woman smiled, and then, reiterating my thanks, I raisedmy hat and left her. 

At least I had discovered the identity of the girl's companion. He wasa doctor, hence it was most probable that she was under his charge. Nevertheless, it was strange that he should take her to the Duomo andpray at her side. Doctors do not usually act in that manner with theirpatients. 

When I returned to the Piazza the pair were nowhere to be seen, therefore I strolled to the nearest café, and sat down with acigarette to think out the remarkable affair. 

One or two features of the problem now became more than ever puzzling. First, in view of the fact that I had seen Gabrielle Engledue lyingdead and had, for a bribe of five thousand pounds, signed a deathcertificate purporting to be from Doctor Gordon Garfield, of QueenAnne Street, Cavendish Square, it seemed beyond credence that the girlwho had died and been cremated should be led about the streets ofFlorence by this Italian, Doctor Moroni. Oswald De Gex's denials were, in themselves, only thin, and yet they were all very clever andcarefully prepared. The story of how his wife had left his little sonin Westbourne Grove to be discovered by the police was no doubt wellthought out. De Gex and his wife were actually on most affectionateterms, hence the tale he had told had been purposely concocted, inorder to mislead me. Besides, his pretence that the dead girl had beenhis niece was, of course, a similarly concocted story to mislead me, and also to discredit me if perchance I made any unwelcome inquiries. 

That I had been half asphyxiated and then drugged until my mentalbalance had been upset, was quite plain. And it was equally plain thatDe Gex did not intend that I should be capable of making inquiriesconcerning the events of that memorable November night. When I hadbeen thrown out of the motor-car on that French highway, near St. Malo, the bank-notes had been purposely left in my pocket. I hadalready copied the numbers, and had called upon the millionaire'sbankers in Pall Mall, but there was no record that any of them hadbeen issued to him. That payment had evidently been very wellconcealed. 

On every hand it appeared quite plain that I had been the victim ofsome strange and remarkable conspiracy, the motive of which wasentirely obscure. Surely I must have been watched, and my habitsnoted. De Gex had known that I frequently passed his door on my way tovisit my uncle, and further, he must have known that I should pass onthat fateful night in November when Horton was sent out to entice mewithin. 

But the chief point of that complex puzzle was the fact that there, inFlorence, within a mile or two of the millionaire's almost regalresidence, I had encountered a living girl who, in every feature, wasthe exact counterpart of the poor girl whose death and cremation stoodrecorded in the official registry at Somerset House!

When in London I had been half inclined to call upon Doctor GordonGarfield and explain the situation. But such confession must, I knew, lead to my prosecution and inevitable imprisonment. I had taken afalse step while under the baneful influence of some drug which hadstultified my own volition and held me powerless to resist thetemptation. I was now endeavouring to seek the truth. 

That the amazing adventure in Stretton Street was not the outcome ofimagination was proved by the entry in the register at Somerset House, and also by the evidence of the cremation of the body. But that thebeautiful girl I had seen lying dead could now be walking about thestreets of Florence was, of course, utterly absurd. 

Was my memory, in my rather weak state of health, playing tricks withme? I began to fear that such was the case. 

As I sat over my "bock" watching the tide of Florentine life pass andrepass across the great piazza, I began to laugh at myself, and felthalf inclined to abandon the inquiry. Still it was all most mysteriousand mystifying. Why had I been marked down as a tool to further themillionaire's ends? And who, after all, was the victim?

I tried to dismiss the apparently sightless girl from my mind, butsomehow the affair obsessed me. I seemed impelled to go farther andtry to elucidate the mystery. I endeavoured to make up my mind toforget it all and return to England and to my work at Francis andGoldsmith's--but all to no avail. My duty, I felt, was to leave nostone unturned until I had discovered whether Gabrielle Engledue haddied from natural causes, or as a result of foul play. 

The pale, tragic face of the girl I had encountered in the Duomohaunted me. Towards the narrow-eyed Doctor Moroni I felt aninstinctive dislike, even though I had no cause to distrust him. 

I think it was the strange intuition I experienced at that momentwhich caused me to decide to act with discretion and caution, and todiscover all that I could concerning the doctor and his tragic-facedcompanion. 

With a fixed plan I returned to my hotel, ate my luncheon in the big_salle à manger_, which was crowded with foreigners wintering inFlorence. Then, after lunch, I complained to the manager of feelingunwell, and asked him to telephone to Doctor Moroni, in the ViaCavezzo. 

"Ah! a most excellent doctor!" remarked the hotel manager. "He has avery large practice among the English and Americans. And he is quitepopular. I suppose you know him?"

"No. I have only heard of him, and of his cleverness, " I said withaffected carelessness. 

Ten minutes later the manager sent me a message by a page that thedoctor would call at three o'clock. So, in my pretended illness, Iwent to my room and feigned the symptoms of acute indigestion. 

Punctually the doctor arrived, and greeted me in his most professionalmanner. I at once explained that an American lady of my acquaintancehad recommended him, whereupon he bowed, smiled, and seating himselfbefore me inquired my symptoms. 

His looks were certainly not an index to his character, for though heappeared so stern and taciturn yet at heart he was, I saw, a veryhumorous, easy-going man, a true Tuscan who showed his white teethwhen he laughed, gesticulated violently, and spoke English with arefined accent that was particularly charming. 

"It is probably the change of diet, " he declared at last, afterdiagnosing my symptoms. "I see many such cases among foreigners whoare unused to some of our rather indigestible dishes. The latter arevery toothsome, and they eat heartily--with dire results, " and hesmiled. 

So well indeed did I describe my supposed ailment that before he lefthe wrote me out a prescription. Afterwards I made pretence of being aperfect stranger in Florence. I longed to speak of Oswald De Gex, butfeared to do so because his suspicions might by that become aroused. If so, then all hope of discovering the true facts would instantlyvanish. 

"I hope you will soon be all right and that you will enjoy your visitto our Tuscany, " he said very pleasantly. "Florence is very full ofvisitors just now. Are you remaining long?"

"I really can't tell, " was my reply. "My business in London may recallme at any time. "

Then I thanked him for his visit, and remarked that if the mixturegave me no relief I would probably call upon him. 

Indeed, it was for this latter reason that I had called him in. Bymaking his acquaintance in that manner I would, I saw, excite nosuspicion, and I hoped to be able to meet the girl who was apparentlyunder his charge. 

While I had been consulting him I noticed that he seemed a man ofcurious moods. At one moment his dark countenance was sullen andsinister, while at the next his face broadened into an expression ofeasy-going _bonhomie_. He spoke English extremely well, and wasapparently a man of considerable taste and refinement. Truly, thesituation was so puzzling that I was bewildered. 

After he had gone, I re-dressed myself and went across to theGambrinus, where I had an appointment with Robertson. 

I found him seated alone at a table in the corner awaiting me. 

"Well?" he said, "I've got that address for you, Mr. Garfield--theaddress of Miss Thurston, " and he handed me a slip of paper upon whichwas written: Miss Rose Thurston, Cedar Cottage, Overstrand, Norfolk. 

"But I thought you said she lived near Detroit?" I remarked. 

"She and her mother did live in America, but I have discovered thatthey now have a house near Cromer, " was the butler's reply. So inacknowledgment of his services I passed him a couple of Italiannotes, and we then had a drink together. 

While doing so a strange thought crossed my mind. 

Could it be possible that the girl I had seen with Doctor Moroni andRose Thurston were one and the same!

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH

THE MILLIONAIRE'S APPREHENSIONS

That same evening I made a number of inquiries concerning DoctorMoroni. On every hand I heard high praise of his skill. He was one ofthe principal physicians at the great hospital at Gelsomino, and amongother of his illustrious patients there had been a Russian Grand Dukeand an Austrian princess who lived in a magnificent villa upon theViale dei Colli. 

I went about the wonderful city of art collecting informationconcerning the doctor, where and when I could, because a startlingfact had been revealed to me by Robertson, namely, that Moroni was DeGex's medical attendant. 

In the night-time when the narrow ancient side-streets of Florence, with their ponderous prison-like palaces with iron-barred windows areso ill-lit and cavernous, the place seems a city of evil deeds, asindeed it was in the days of the Medici and of the Borgias. 

As I trod those streets between the Porta Romana and Santa MariaNovella, I confess that I became apprehensive of a nervous breakdown. 

That a girl had been wilfully done to death in that West End mansion, and that I had accepted a bribe to aid and abet the assassin, wereundeniable facts. The wealthy man evidently believed that, for my ownsake and in order to escape prosecution, I would not seek to solve theenigma. Now, as I reflected upon my interview at the Villa Clementini, I realized how artful he was in denying everything, and yet allowingme a loophole for escape. He had mentioned blackmail--an ugly wordwith ugly consequences--well-knowing that I dare not go to theMetropolitan Police and make any statement of what I had witnessed orof how I had acted. 

I still held that five thousand pounds bribe intact. The accursednotes were at the flat at Rivermead Mansions. My position was nowuntenable. When that night I retired to my room I realized that thesituation was hopeless. How could I support any charge against a manwho, being a millionaire, could purchase manufactured evidence--as isdone every day--just as easily as he could purchase a cigar?

The evidence given in judicial courts in every European capital incases where the party, either plaintiff or defendant, is wellpossessed of this world's goods, is usually tainted. In no place onearth can money work more marvels than in a court of law. Witnesseswho make testimony a profession for big fees appear in every Assizecourt in the world. And some of them are, alas! experts. True it isthat every man has his price, and the more so in these hard, post-wardays of riot and ruin. Justice and brotherly love departed with theVictorian era. The old game of "Beat-your-neighbour-out-of-doors, "played by our grandfathers, seems to be the only one practised in ourmodern times. 

With such thoughts I fell asleep. 

Next day I spent in again wandering the old-world streets of Florence, hoping to obtain another glimpse of Moroni and his fair charge. I wentto the Duomo and waited near that side-chapel where I had first seenthem. Then, as they did not come, I idled before a café in the ViaCalzajoli, and again in the Piazza della Signorina. But I saw nothingof them. That afternoon I spent the winter sunshine in the Cascine, the beautiful wood beside the Arno where the Florentines go each dayfor the _passeggiata_, either in their old-fashioned landaus witharmorial bearings upon the panels, in modern motor-cars, or on foot. The afternoon, though it was winter, was glorious, even though thecold wind from the snow-tipped Apennines swept sharply down thevalley. Yet everyone was wrapped up warmly, and the fresh air wasinvigorating. 

Though I kept my eyes open everywhere, I failed to detect that slimfigure in rusty black. 

I allowed the following day to pass. Then, at four o'clock in theafternoon, I called at the house of Doctor Moroni in pretence of againconsulting him. 

Upon the door of the great old house, now converted into spaciousflats, was a small, rather tarnished brass plate with the words: "Dr. Moroni, Primo Piano. "

So I climbed the wide stone stairs to the first floor, and rang thebell. My summons was answered by a tall, swarthy, dark-eyed Italianmaid, who wore a dainty muslin apron, but no cap--as is the custom inItaly. She was a Piedmontese, for in her hair she wore several ofthose large pins with round heads of silver filigree placed in asemicircle at the back of her head, until they formed a kind of halo. 

"The Signore Dottore is at home, " was her reply in Italian. "Bepleased to enter. "

And she showed me along a narrow hall to what was evidently Moroni'swaiting-room. The atmosphere of the place was close on account of thecharcoal stove, and the barely-furnished room smelt of somedisinfectant. 

I had sat there for some moments when I heard a door open, and men'svoices sounded speaking in English:

"Very well, signore, " I heard the doctor say. "I will be up at thevilla at eleven o'clock. "

"Good, " replied the other. "You will not be troubled by Robertson thistime. He will be away. I am sending him on a message to Pisa, as I donot want him about; he is too inquisitive. Besides, you will not cometo the house. You quite understand where we shall meet?"

"Quite, signore, " replied Moroni. 

By the mode in which the doctor addressed his visitor, and the mentionof Robertson, it was plain that he was speaking with Oswald De Gex. Why was the butler to be sent to Pisa? I wondered. 

I sat breathless, listening to the footsteps along the hall, and toMoroni wishing his visitor good afternoon. 

A few moments later he opened the door brusquely and with a pleasantsmile apologized for keeping me waiting. Then he conducted me to hisconsulting-room, a gloomy, frowsy little apartment much over-heated, as is usual in Florentine houses in winter. 

"Well?" he asked. "And how do you feel now, Mr. Garfield?"

My reply was the reverse of satisfactory. The mixture had done megood, I said, but I still felt excruciating pains after eating. Inconsequence, he felt my pulse and took my temperature, while I, on mypart, strained my ears listening for any feminine voice. Was the girlwhose secret I sought still there?

Once I heard a woman's voice, but she cried in Italian to afellow-servant named Enrichetta, hence she was probably the maid whohad admitted me. 

Moroni, after he had concluded his examination, seemed a littlepuzzled. No doubt I had, in my ignorance, described some imaginarysymptom which was not in accordance with what he expected to find. He, however, gave me another prescription, and as he wrote it I wonderedhow he would act if he knew that my object in becoming his patientwas to probe the mystery of the affair in Stretton Street. 

I had at least gained knowledge of his intended visit to the VillaClementini unknown to the butler, Robertson. He was to be there eitherat eleven o'clock that night or at eleven next morning. It occurred tome that I might possibly learn something of interest if I watched thedoctor's movements at the hours indicated. 

"Your symptoms rather puzzle me, " said the doctor at last, eyeing mefrom beneath his bushy black brows. "To tell the truth, I fancy youmust have eaten something poisonous at one of the restaurants. Theysometimes use tinned food which is not quite good, and it sets upirritant poisoning. I had a case very similar to yours last week. Theclimate here did not suit him, and he has returned to England. "

"Oh! I hope to be better in a few days, doctor, " I said cheerfully, for I was anxious for another opportunity to visit him. I wanted tosee, and if possible speak in secret with the girl who bore such astriking resemblance to the dead Gabrielle Engledue. 

On returning to the hotel I rang up the Villa Clementini and inquiredfor Robertson. In a few moments I spoke to him, asking if he werecoming down to the Gambrinus. 

"I'm sorry, " he replied. "I have to go to Pisa by the eight o'clocktrain. But I shall be back to-morrow morning. "

By that I established the fact that Oswald De Gex had an appointmentwith Moroni at eleven o'clock that night, and not on the followingmorning. 

I ate my dinner at Bonciani's, near the station, a place littlepatronized by foreigners, but where one obtains the best Tuscancooking--and after an hour or so over coffee at the Bottegone, I tooka taxi up to Fiesole. The night was cold but dry and moonlit. As weascended the steep hill a glorious panorama spread before us, forbelow lay the valley of the Arno with the twinkling lights of theancient city, and the great pale moon upon the shimmering riverrendering it like a scene from fairyland. And as we went up beyond SanDomenico, through those lands which in spring and summer are sofruitful with their vines and olives, two peasant swains passed, chanting one of the old _stornelli_, those quaint love-songs of theTuscan _contadini_--the same which have been sung for centuries in andabout old Firenze:

 Acqua di rio. Teco sarò di luglio e di gennaio Dove tu muori te, morirò anch'io. 

Tuscany is essentially a land of love, where the fierce flame ofaffection burns in the hearts of all the people, and where a hot wordis quickly followed by a knife-thrust, and jealousy is ever cruel andunrelenting. 

Arriving at last in the little piazza, at Fiesole, where a number ofpeople were awaiting the last tram to take them back into Florence, Ialighted, paid the man, and continued my journey on foot, stillclimbing the high road which led through the chestnut woods ofRicorbico, until at last I found myself at the corner of the groundsof the Villa Clementini, close to a pair of gates of mediævalwrought-iron which closed the south entrance to the magnificentdomain. 

On either side of the road were high walls with tall cypresses behindwhich cast their deep shadows over the highway, rendering it darkaround the entrance. I glanced at my luminous wristwatch--a relic ofmy war service--and found that it still wanted ten minutes to eleven. 

Therefore I drew back beneath the wall, and in the black shadowawaited the millionaire's visitor to pass on to the main entrance. 

I suppose I had been there ten minutes or so when I detectedapproaching footsteps in the darkness, and presently the doctor'sfamiliar figure appeared in the patch of moonlight, only to beswallowed up in the black shadows a moment later. Approaching thegreat iron gates which were a side entrance to the grounds, he drew akey from his pocket, unlocked them easily, and passed in without, however, re-locking them after him. His visit there was undoubtedly asecret one, or De Gex would not have given him the key of the entrancehe used himself, nor would he have sent away his butler, Robertson. 

The visitor's footsteps suddenly ceased, for he was undoubtedlycrossing the grass. In consequence, I stole on tiptoe up to the gates, and entering, saw in the moonlight that Moroni was stealing along inthe opposite direction to the great country mansion, many of thewindows of which were illuminated. As I halted my ears caught thestrains of orchestral music. A waltz was being played, for, as Iafterwards knew, a gay ball was in progress, the cars entering andleaving by the main carriage road. 

A few seconds later I crept on in the direction the doctor had taken. At first I feared that, as is so often the case in Italy, savage dogsmight be kept there at night to attack any thief or intruder. But asMoroni had entered so boldly, it was evident that if any were keptthere they were that evening locked up. Hence, I went forward inconfidence until I came to the edge of a beautiful lake lyingunruffled in the moonlight, and surrounded by many pieces of ancientstatuary, most of them moss-grown and lichen-covered. 

As I turned a corner there came into view a large white summer-housewith a domed roof, supported by columns--a kind of temple such as oneoften finds in the gardens of ancient Italian villas. The marble-builtsummer-house, with carved escutcheons, was a fashion of theseventeenth century. As I peered forward I saw Moroni walking in thefull light, approaching the place, from which a dark figure emergedand came forth to meet him. 

Instantly I again halted, and straining my eyes recognized that theman who was in evening dress was the owner of that palatial home. 

They retired into the summer-house together. What, I wondered, was theobject of that secret meeting?

It struck me that perhaps if I succeeded in approaching the spot Imight overhear some of their confidential conversation, therefore Istole forward, always keeping in the shadow, and treading upon thegrass, my eyes ever upon my goal. 

The stillness of the night was unbroken, save by the harsh clanging ofthe convent bell down at San Domenico, and the howl of a distant dog, while ever and anon bursts of dance music from the villa reached myears. 

At last, by skirting a shrubbery in almost pitch darkness, andscratching my hands and face badly, I succeeded in gaining the rear ofthe little marble temple, and on hearing De Gex's voice I drew backand waited, scarce daring to breathe. I could hear my own heart beatas I listened intently to certain words distinctly audible. 

"Then you think he has suspicions--eh, Moroni? What you tell me isinteresting, but also alarming. "

"I feel certain he has. He would not have consulted me for animaginary ailment were it not so. "

"Then he must have seen her somewhere in Florence and recognized her!I was a fool to suggest that she should be brought here--so near tome! I was a fool to allow him to slip through my fingers!"

"I pointed that out to you at the time, " remarked the Italian doctorwith a sigh. "But what you have just shown to me is amazing. I neverdreamed of that!"

He had evidently shown him something in the moonlight. 

"Well, I don't intend that this fellow shall pry into my affairs, "snapped the millionaire. I recognized that hard metallic voice of his, and it recalled to me all those strange happenings on that Novembernight. 

"I do not really see, if we act boldly, what we have to fear, " saidthe doctor in his very fair English. 

We! Then they were both implicated in the plot, whatever its nature. 

"Fear!" echoed De Gex. "Suppose he made some very compromisingstatement to the London police. "

"And in doing so he would compromise himself! He posed as a medicalman, and gave the death certificate in return for payment--fivethousand pounds. Beyond, he committed forgery by signing the name ofGordon Garfield. No, Mr. De Gex, I feel sure he will never courtprosecution. He may busy himself in trying to solve what no doubtappears to him a complete enigma--as indeed it is to us. But he willnever expose us--_never_!"

The millionaire grunted dubiously. 

"Well, what are we to do now? What do you suggest, Moroni? Your brainis always so fertile where crooked business is concerned. "

"I have no suggestion. I came here to learn yours. "

"Yes. I called you here to show you what I have shown you, and alsobecause I have a certain person here as guest at my wife's danceto-night--you know whom I mean. "

"Certainly. She is equally dangerous. You asked me to bring the littletube. Here it is. But I urge you to use it with extreme caution. Whenyou break the glass be certain that none of the jelly inside touchesyour fingers. If it does, wash them instantly in carbolic. It ishighly contagious. "

De Gex gave vent to a queer laugh of satisfaction, as, no doubt, hetook the mysterious glass tube in his hand. 

"I am not yet certain whether to try the experiment--or not, " heremarked with hesitation. 

"It is, to say the least, a highly dangerous one. "

"You mean dangerous from the point of view of discovery--eh?"

"No, not at all. Your act cannot be discovered, but it may bedangerous for yourself and those about you--highly dangerous. I haveobeyed your orders, signore, as I always do, and I have brought it. But my suggestion is that you should not break that tube and disperseits contents. "

"You seem to be growing unusually apprehensive, my dear Moroni. Theappearance in Florence of this young electrical engineer seems to havequite upset you!" he laughed harshly. I could hear every word. 

"I confess his presence here has not inspired me with confidence. Wedo not know the extent of his knowledge, or what he has discovered, "replied the doctor. "If he establishes one fact--you know to what Irefer--then he will become a very grave menace to us both. "

"But surely he won't dare to reveal anything for his own sake. That iswhy I made the bribe a substantial one. "

"If he established that one fact to which I have referred, then itwould be quite within the bounds of possibility that he might face themusic, and lay bare the whole facts of the mystery of StrettonStreet, " Moroni remarked in a rather lower tone. "At present I thinkhe will keep a still tongue. "

"Then one thing is quite plain, " said the millionaire. "He must not beallowed to prosecute his inquiries any further. And it is for you, Moroni, to rid us of this ever-growing menace. If he is allowed to goon, then we shall one day awake to find our secret revealed. "

"I quite agree. But how shall we act?"

"Ah! I leave that to you, " replied De Gex. "You have many ways andmeans within your power. He is a patient of yours, " he added grimly. 

"Yes. But I happen to know that he is sufficiently wide awake not totake any of my mixtures. "

"Ah! Then he suspects you! You must act with greatest caution, Moroni. Act as you will, but we must, at all costs, get rid of this fellow. "

"I suggested that after the affair at Stretton Street. It would thenhave been so very easy. "

"I know! I was a fool! I did not foresee the consequences if he metand recognized the girl. Even now we do not know where and how he mether. But the menace to us is the same. We must get rid of him--andquickly, too! The trap must be baited--and what better bait than thegirl herself?"

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

LITTLE MRS. CULLERTON

For nearly half an hour Oswald De Gex and the Italian doctor, Moroni, sat chatting in the darkness. 

De Gex apologized to his visitor for not offering him a cigarette, remarking that the striking of a match might reveal their presence toanyone strolling in the grounds, for guests at dances frequently havethat habit. 

"Indeed, after you have gone, Moroni, I am meeting the lady whom Imentioned, and shall walk with her outside here. I want to speak withher in private. "

"But surely that is dangerous!" exclaimed the doctor instantly. 

"Why?"

"If you intend to act as you say you should not hold any clandestinemeeting with her, " Moroni suggested. 

"I shall take your advice and preserve this little tube intact, " andhe paused, "intact at least for the present, " he added. "Hence therecan be no harm in leaving the ballroom and coming out into the freshair--eh?"

"In that case I see no risk. "

"The only risk we run is in allowing young Garfield to make inquirieshere, in Florence. When he saw me, I, of course, denied everything. But I know that he must have noticed how upset I was at hisreappearance. "

"Well, we have decided to suppress him, have we not?" said Moronibriefly. "And now it is getting late and my taxi is awaiting me downin Fiesole. So I had better be going. "

"Have a care that the fellow does not meet her--not until you arequite prepared, " the millionaire urged. "And lose no time in makingready. Each day's delay is increasingly dangerous. "

"I do not disregard the fact, signore, " replied the Italian, and nextmoment they emerged from the little Greek temple, and having walked ashort distance, they parted, De Gex returning to the house, whileMoroni made his way back past the lake to the gate. 

When the mysterious millionaire had disappeared, I approached thebroad terrace which ran along the side of the house from which such awonderful panorama of the Apennines was to be obtained. If he broughthis lady guest out, as was his intention, then he no doubt woulddescend from the terrace, for I saw two couples walking there as Iapproached. 

Beneath a tree I took cover and waited--waited to establish theidentity of the person whom he had marked down as his next victim. 

That night I had gained much knowledge of intense interest, yet it allserved to puzzle me the more. 

That Tito Moroni was his accomplice I had established beyond doubt, and equally that there had been a grave and deep-laid conspiracyagainst me. And further, it seemed to be intended that I should againmeet the mysterious pale-faced girl in black, and that the meeting wasmeant to be fatal to me. 

Fortune had certainly been upon my side that night, otherwise I mighthave acted in good faith and fallen into some cleverly-baited trap. That the doctor of the Via Cavezzo was a dangerous malefactor wasproved by the airy manner in which he had brought to his rich clientthat little glass tube which I, of course, had not seen, but which hehad no doubt put into the hands of his wealthy and unscrupulous host. 

The more I reflected as I stood beneath the great oleander, the morepuzzled did I become. What was it that De Gex had shown the doctorbeneath the pale light of the moon? It was evidently something whichgreatly surprised Moroni, and yet he had made but little commentconcerning it. 

But the chief mystery of all was the whereabouts of that poor inertgirl Gabrielle Engledue. I waited, eager for the return of the tall, well-set-up man in evening clothes, the man who so much in the publiceye was engaged in such a strange career of wickedness and crime. 

It seemed incredible that the immensely rich man whose name was soconstantly in the papers as a generous patron of the arts, and a piousphilanthropist, should be implicated in such devil's doings as thoseof which I had already proved him to be the author. 

The discordant clanging of that convent-bell again aroused me to asense of my surroundings. I saw upon the terrace before me several menstrolling, smoking cigarettes, and with them their fair partnerswrapped in rich cloaks and furs. They had come out after supper toadmire the wonderful moonlit scene, for before them rose thesnow-tipped mountains in a long serrated range, the high Apennineswhich divide the Adriatic from the Mediterranean. 

Suddenly, almost before I was aware of it, a man and a woman passedclose to me. The figure revealed by the cold bright moon was that ofDe Gex, who had now put on a light coat, while at his side walked aslim, tall young woman wrapped warmly in a rich fur coat. The diamondsin her fair hair gleamed in the moonlight, but unfortunately she hadpassed into the shadow before I could gain a glimpse of her features. 

So that was the intended victim--the woman to whom the dangerouscontents of that tiny glass tube was one day, sooner or later, to beadministered. 

They went forward towards the edge of the placid lake, hence I sprangupon the grass and followed them as noiseless as a cat. Little did theowner of the great Villa Clementini dream that I was lurking in suchclose vicinity. 

They halted beside one of the ancient statues of yellow marble, aheavy-limbed representation of Bacchus crowned with vine leaves, wherethey admired the fairy-like scene. It was indeed glorious. Beneath thepale moonlight lay the placid lake like a mirror, for no breathstirred from the mountains, and beyond in the mystic light rose thesnow-capped peaks far away beyond the chestnut forests of Vallombrosa. 

There is a charm in all seasons and at all hours about those ancientvillas of Tuscany; those country mansions of the nobles which haveseen the tramp of men in armour and in plush, and bear upon them thecrumbling escutcheons of races which have been rulers for fivecenturies, and whose present descendants are perhaps waiters in Paris, London, or New York. 

The English visitors to Florence see outside the Florence Clubeffeminate elegants in English-made suits of blue serge, and brownboots, and they sigh to think that such specimens of humanity are therepresentatives of a noble race. Disguise it as you may, poor Italy issadly decadent. Her glory has passed, her _nobile_ are ruined and herlabour enemies are, alas! bent upon putting her into the melting-pot. The gallant Italian army fought valiantly against the Tedesci. Itsaved Venice from the heel of the invader and it protected Dalmatia, where the population are Italians. But Italy to-day is not Italy ofpre-war days, thanks to its paid agitators and its political scandals. 

With the bright moon shining across the huge oleander beneath which Ihad again taken cover, I listened intently. But De Gex speaking withhis guest was too far off for me to distinguish anything he said. 

That he treated her with the greatest courtesy was apparent. And thathe spoke to her with the most entire confidence I realized by my ownobservation. 

At once I stole noiselessly forward from one bush to another until Iwas close to where the pair stood. I trod softly upon the grass, myears strained to catch any word. 

The words I at last caught were few and uncertain, for De Gex wasspeaking in a low and highly confidential tone. 

At last, however, on approaching a little nearer, I heard him exclaim:

"Jack, your husband, is a young fool! He has no discretion. He gambleson the Stock Exchange without any expert knowledge. He came up here tome yesterday afternoon and told me that he must have ten thousandpounds to tide him over, and prevent him being hammered. I sent himaway, but I shall see that he has the money. "

"How really good of you, Mr. De Gex!" exclaimed the girl--for as faras I could see she was hardly a woman. "I don't know how to thank yousufficiently. I know Jack is a born gambler. His father was on theStock Exchange before him, and I suppose games of chance are in thebreed of the Cullertons. "

"Not in you, I hope, Dorothy, " replied the millionaire. "You have hadthe misfortune to marry a gambler, and--well, my dear girl--I pityyou. Gambling is worse than drink. The drunkard can be sickened andput off, but the gambler never. Now I want you to promise me onething. "

"What is that?" she asked. 

"I shall see that he has the money. But it will come through a secondparty, not through me. I do not wish to appear to lend him money, otherwise he will still continue his speculations, feeling that he hasme behind him. Now you know the truth, Dorothy. But you must promiseme to say nothing. Nobody must know--not even my wife. "

"Oh! how very good of you to help Jack out of a hole!" she exclaimed. "Of course I'll remain silent. But it really is awfully kind of you. Idon't know how to thank you. "

"I will do it for your sake, Dorothy, " said De Gex, bending to her inconfidence. "I am indebted to _you_--remember!"

"Ah! no!" cried the young woman, whose name apparently was Cullerton. "No! Please don't refer to that terrible affair!"

Her voice betrayed emotion and apprehension, while at that moment, asshe turned her face to the light of the moon, I was able to get a fullview of it. It was that of a very beautiful young woman of abouttwenty-three, rather _petite_, with fair bobbed hair, regularfeatures, and sweet lips. But the expression upon her countenance wasone of fear and apprehension. 

"I have no desire to remember it, " said her host. "We agreed at thetime that it should be silence for silence. It was a bargain which wehave kept ever since. You have married Jack Cullerton, and you arehappy except that your husband is a born gambler. And of that he mustbe cured. "

"I know. I know!" she said hastily. "But earlier this evening youpromised to tell me about Gabrielle. I must see her. She seems to havedisappeared. Where is she?"

"In London, I believe. "

"In London! Yet the last time you spoke of her you said she was inTurin, on her way here, to Florence. "

Oswald De Gex laughed lightly. 

"Yes. She came to Florence for a few days, but she has returned toLondon. Why are you so anxious to see her?"

"I want to see her about a matter which concerns Jack andmyself--that's all, " replied young Mrs. Cullerton. 

"May I not know?" asked her host. 

"It is a purely private matter, " was her reply. 

Then from the conversation that followed, it seemed as though themillionaire was apprehensive lest she should meet the mysteriousGabrielle, and I wondered whether it was in order to prevent themmeeting that he entertained designs upon her life. 

I recollected that little glass tube which he was carrying in secretin his pocket, and which the scoundrelly Italian had urged him torefrain from using because he might place his own life in jeopardy. 

I listened to every word. De Gex was evidently most anxious to knowwhy she sought Gabrielle so eagerly. And Gabrielle, I could onlysurmise, was the girl I had seen stark and dead in that handsome roomin Stretton Street. 

That night of watchfulness had borne fruit. I had learnt from De Gex'sown lips that another deep and subtle trap was to be laid for me--atrap baited with the tragic-faced girl herself. Further, I hadestablished that he intended that, sooner or later, an accident shouldbefall the dainty little woman in that rich ermine cloak, the womanwith whom he was chatting so affably. Also I had learned her identity, and it now remained for me to forewarn her of what was intended. 

The rich Englishman had talked for about a quarter of an hour withDorothy Cullerton, when at last they returned to the house, while Imade my way in the darkness back to the gate. When I arrived, however, I found that Moroni had locked it after him. I was therefore compelledto climb the wrought ironwork, and after several unsuccessful attemptssucceeded in regaining the road. 

It was long past midnight ere I found myself back in Fiesole, but Idiscovered a belated cab, and in it I drove back to Florence, full ofgrave reflections. 

On the following day I bought in the Via Tornabuoni an Englishnewspaper which publishes weekly a list of visitors to Florence, andfrom it discovered that Mr. And Mrs. Cullerton were living at theVilla Tassi, out at Montaguto, about three miles from the PortaRomana, on the opposite side of Florence. That same morning I took thesteam tram from the Piazza della Signorina, and after three miles ofdusty road, alighted at a spot beyond the little village of Galluzzoin the Val d'Ema. Crossing the brook I soon began to ascend the hillof Montaguto--a pretty eminence clothed with cypresses and olives--andwas not long in discovering the neat, newly-built little villa, one ofa number which are let furnished each season to wealthy foreigners. Inoted as I passed that it was well-kept, that the garden was brightwith flowers, even though it was winter, and that in the garage was asmall light car which at the moment was being washed by an Englishchauffeur. 

I longed to have some excuse to call upon Mrs. Cullerton, but couldthink of none. Therefore I returned to Florence and pursued freshtactics. The afternoon I spent making inquiries regarding theCullertons, and soon discovered that they were intimate friends ofMonsieur Rameil, the French Consul, and his wife. 

With this knowledge I lost no time in obtaining an introduction to theFrench Consul, and three days later received a card for one ofMadame's Friday afternoons. Naturally I went, and to my delight Mrs. Cullerton was there also. She was a strikingly pretty young woman, andapparently extremely popular, judging by the manner in which two orthree young Italian elegants danced attendance upon her. Shortlybefore I left my hostess introduced me to her, and naturally Iendeavoured to make myself extremely agreeable. But was not thesituation a strange one? And this pretty woman had been marked downfor destruction by the mysterious millionaire, just as I had been!

Yet had I told anyone of the knowledge I had gained I would not havebeen believed, any more than would credence have been given to thestory of my strange adventure in Stretton Street. 

We chatted for perhaps ten minutes. She asked me where I was stayingand how long I should be in Florence, and then, expressing a hope thatwe should meet again, I bowed and left her. 

I had accomplished one step towards ascertaining the identity of thegirl I had seen dead in London. 

Several days passed, during which I kept a good look out in thestreets for sight of Doctor Moroni's fair companion. But I was notsuccessful. Perhaps she had gone to London, as my host of StrettonStreet had asserted!

One afternoon, while haunting the streets, I suddenly encountered Mrs. Cullerton walking in the Via Tornabuoni, and, raising my hat, stoppedto speak. 

After a few seconds she recognized me, and I walked at her sidechatting. Her car was waiting in the Piazza Santa Trinita, but beforeshe entered it she had promised to send me a card for a little "athome" she was giving on the following Thursday. 

Now, not until we had parted did it occur to me that De Gex might bealso going there. In that case he certainly should not meet me. So Isought Robertson's aid concerning his master's engagements, anddiscovered that on Thursday morning the millionaire was going toLeghorn to join his yacht for a week's cruise across to Algiers. 

Therefore I accepted Mrs. Cullerton's invitation, and found at thevilla a number of pleasant, cosmopolitan people, whom I had alreadymet at the French Consul's. I was introduced by my hostess to herhusband, Jack, a smartly-dressed man, and a typical young member ofthe Stock Exchange. Afterwards I succeeded in having quite a longconversation with his wife. 

Quite casually I mentioned the Villa Clementini, and its owner. 

"Do you know him?" she asked with interest. "He is such a dear, generous old thing. "

"I have met him once, " I replied with affected unconcern. "They sayhe's a little eccentric--don't they?"

"His enemies say that, " she replied, "but his friends are full ofpraise of him. He's the most charming and generous of men, and hisgreat wealth allows him to perform all sorts of kind actions. Theysay that he can't refuse anybody who asks for his influence or help. "

I reflected that his influence was certainly a baneful one. 

"Ah! I see you are one of his friends, Mrs. Cullerton!" I said, laughing. 

"Yes--I confess I am. "

"Then would you be surprised if I told you in strictest confidencethat he is not your friend, but one of your bitterest enemies!" Isaid, lowering my voice, and looking straight into her wide-open blueeyes. 

"I don't understand you, Mr. Garfield!" she said, also lowering hervoice. 

"I will explain one day, Mrs. Cullerton--one day when we are alone. "

"When?" she whispered, for Madame Rameil was approaching at themoment. 

"Whenever you like to make an appointment, " I replied. "Only I mustfirst hold you to absolute secrecy. "

"That's agreed, " whispered the pretty young woman. "To-morrow. I willbe here alone at three o'clock, " and then she held out her hand, andaloud said:

"Good-bye, Mr. Garfield. So sorry you have to run away so early. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER THE NINTH

SOME PLAIN SPEAKING

Punctually at three o'clock next afternoon the buxom Italian maid indainty apron, ushered me into Mrs. Cullerton's charming _salone_. Fromthe long windows a magnificent view spread away across the greenvalley of the Ema to the great monastery of the Certosa, a hugemediæval pile which resembled a mediæval fortress standing boldlyagainst the background of the rolling Apennines. 

Scarcely had I stood there a moment when my blue-eyed young hostess, in a becoming black-and-cherry frock, entered, and greeting me, closedthe door. 

"Well, Mr. Garfield? It's really awfully good of you to trouble tocome out to see me. I'm all excitement to know what you have to tellme about Mr. De Gex. He's gone yachting--as you perhaps know. Do sitdown. "

As I did so she passed me the cigarettes, and took one herself. Then, when I had held the match for her and had lit my own, I said:

"Well, Mrs. Cullerton, I really don't know how to commence. Somehow, Ifelt it my duty to come here to see you. I must admit that I have beenmanoeuvring for several days in order to get an introduction to you, and to obtain an opportunity of seeing you alone. And yet----"

"Yes. I quite see that. I thought by your attitude in the ViaTornabuoni that you seemed very anxious to know me, " and her lipsrelaxed into a pretty smile. 

"That is so. In order to--well, to warn you, " I said very seriously. 

"Warn me!--of what, pray?"

I hesitated. To be perfectly frank with her was, I saw, quiteimpossible. She might hear all I said and then inform De Gex. She washis friend. Or perhaps she would dismiss me and my story as pureinvention. Hence I resolved to preserve my own secret concerning theStretton Street Affair. 

Looking straight into her face, I said:

"I'm here to warn you of a very grave personal danger. "

"You are really most alarming, Mr. Garfield, " she said in suspicion. "In what danger am I?"

"You are either in possession of some ugly fact concerning Mr. De Gexwhich he desires suppressed, or else you bar his way to some ambitiousachievement. "

Her face changed, and she held her breath. Though it was only for asecond I saw that what I had suggested was the truth. Her slim whitehand twitched nervously upon her lap. 

"Some fact concerning Mr. De Gex!" she gasped in feigned surprise. "Who told you that!" she asked, her face blanching. 

"I have not been told. But I know it, Mrs. Cullerton, " was my reply. "I know that, though De Gex is assisting your husband out of afinancial difficulty and pretends to be your good friend, he views youas his bitter enemy--as a person whose lips must, at all hazards, beclosed. "

"Really, Mr. Garfield, what you say is too extraordinary--too amazing!I don't understand you!"

"I know it sounds most extraordinary, " I said. "But first tell me ifyou know a certain Doctor Moroni, who lives in the Via Cavezzo?"

"Certainly. The doctor attends Mr. De Gex and his family. I first methim in London, about a year ago. Mr. De Gex holds him in very highesteem. "

"Ah! Then you know the doctor. "

"Of course. When he was in London he several times came to our housein Fitzjohn's Avenue. "

"And your husband knows him?" I asked, looking her straight in theface. "Please tell me the truth, " I urged. 

"No. Jack has never met him--not to my knowledge. "

I was silent for a few seconds. I had established a fact which I hadall along suspected. 

"Then he called in the daytime, when your husband was in theCity--eh?"

"Yes. "

"Now tell me, did you ever have any strange illness after DoctorMoroni had called?" I inquired very seriously. 

"Illness? Why, no! Why do you ask such a curious question?"

"I have reasons for asking it, Mrs. Cullerton, " was my reply. "I havecalled here as your friend, remember. "

"But all this is most bewildering, " she exclaimed with a nervouslittle laugh. "Why should I be in any personal peril?"

"Because you know something to the detriment of that wealthy andsomewhat eccentric man, " I replied. "Pardon me if I put anotherquestion to you. Are you acquainted with a girl named GabrielleEngledue?"

"Gabrielle Engledue?" she repeated. "No, I have never heard the name. I know a Gabrielle--Gabrielle Tennison--an old schoolfellow of mine. "

"A tall, dark-haired girl?"

"Yes, she is rather tall, and dark-haired. "

"Isn't her real name Engledue?" I asked quickly. 

"Not to my knowledge. "

"Is she not Mr. De Gex's niece?"

"He has no niece, has he?--except, of course, Lady Shalford, whom Iknow quite well. "

"Where is Gabrielle Tennison?"

"In London--I believe. "

"Are you certain she is not here, in Florence?"

"Mr. De Gex told me that she came to Florence for a few days----"

"To visit him--eh?"

"I suppose so. But she has returned to London. "

"Do you know her address in London, " I asked very anxiously. "I askyou this in our mutual interests, Mrs. Cullerton, " I addedconfidentially. 

"Yes. She lives with her mother in a maisonette in Longridge Road, Earl's Court, I forget the number, but you could easily find out. "

"And she is there now, I presume?"

"I expect so--if what Mr. De Gex has told me is the truth. "

"But will he ever tell you the truth?" I queried. "Recollect thatalthough he poses as your husband's friend, he is nevertheless yourenemy--because he fears you! Why is that?"

The pretty wife of the young London stockbroker hesitated. I saw thatshe was much perturbed by my question. 

"I suppose he suspects that I know certain things, " was her low, hardreply. "But he has been very good to Jack on several occasions. Hehas prevented him from being hammered on the Stock Exchange, thereforeI can only be grateful to him. "

I looked the pretty woman straight in the face, and said:

"Grateful! Grateful to a man whose dastardly intention is, when thewhim takes him, to send you to your grave, Mrs. Cullerton?"

"I--I really don't know what you mean. Are you mad? Do be moreexplicit, " she cried. "Why do you make these terrible allegationsagainst Mr. De Gex?"

"Please recollect, Mrs. Cullerton, that I am here first in yourinterests, and secondly in my own. You and I are now both marked downas victims, because both of us are in possession of certain knowledgewhich would, if exposed, bring obloquy and prosecution upon anexceedingly wealthy man. Your husband, yourself, and myself, aremerely pawns in the clever game which this man is playing--amysterious game, I admit, and one in which he is actively assisted byDoctor Moroni--but also one in which, if we are not both very wary, weshall find ourselves the victims of fatal circumstances. "

My words seemed to impress the stockbroker's wife, for she asked:"Well--what shall I do?"

"Be perfectly frank with me, " I replied promptly. "Both of us have allto lose if we close our eyes to the conspiracy against us on the partof your friend De Gex and his shrewd and unscrupulous accomplice, TitoMoroni. "

"Moroni is one of the most popular doctors in Florence, " she remarked. 

"I'm perfectly aware of that, " was my reply. "But there is no moredangerous criminal than the medical man who is beneath the thumb of amillionaire. There have been several before the assizes in variouscities of Europe. Many, thanks alas! to the power of gold, have neverbeen unmasked. There have been cases in Hungary, in France, in Italy, and in Russia--even one case in England which is recorded in a bigfile at Scotland Yard. But in that case there was no prosecutionbecause money means influence, and influence means the breaking ofthose in office who dare to oppose it. "

"Then how do you suggest that I should act, Mr. Garfield?" asked youngMrs. Cullerton. "It is distressing news to me that Mr. De Gex is myenemy--and I confess that at present I can scarcely credit it. "

I longed to unbosom myself to her--to tell her of all that hadoccurred to me since that fateful November night when I had passedthrough Stretton Street, but I was not yet fully confident concerningher attitude towards me. It might be hostile. She might seek De Gexwhen he returned from Algiers and tell him of our interview! If shedid, then all hope of elucidating the mystery of Gabrielle Engledue'sdeath would be at once swept away. 

Yet I held before me the fact that the millionaire, hand-in-glove withthat scoundrelly Italian, intended to cast me into my grave. TheItalians have all through the centuries been experts in secretassassination. The Doges of Venice, the Borgias, and the Medici haveall had secret poisoners in their pay. The gay, careless race whichlaughs when the sun shines, are just the same to-day, after the war, as they were in the days of His Holiness Rodrigo Borgia. To-day yoursuperstitious Italian criminal enters the church and prays to theMadonna that his _coup_--whatever it may be, from profiteering, picking pockets, or the secret assassination of an enemy--may besuccessful. 

"I allege that Mr. De Gex is your enemy, Mrs. Cullerton, " I said. "Ihave first-hand knowledge of it. Indeed, on the night of the ball atthe Villa Clementini, he had in his pocket the wherewithal to bringupon you an illness which must inevitably prove fatal. He had a littleglass tube which he had ordered Moroni to prepare, but which thedoctor himself urged him not to break for fear of infecting himselfand his family. "

She sat staring at me open-mouthed. 

"I--I really can't believe it!" she gasped. "Mr. De Gex would neveract in such a dastardly manner towards me. We are friends--oldfriends. "

"You may be, but I happen to know the truth, " I declared. "He pretendsfriendship towards you, but his intentions are that your lips shall beclosed. For some reason he fears you. "

"Are you really quite serious?" she asked, looking me full in theface. 

"I certainly am, " I replied. "The reason I am here is to warn you tohave a care of yourself. That some evil is intended, I know. Only Irely upon you to keep the information I have given you to yourself. Watch De Gex, but say nothing--_not a word_. "

"I have already promised that I will remain silent, " she remarked. 

"You must also say no word to your husband. He is indebted to De Gex, hence he might tell him what I have said. And further, my name mustnever be mentioned to De Gex. "

"Why not?"

"He would instantly guess the source of your information. "

"But what is your motive for all this, Mr. Garfield?"

"My motive is a simple one. I am trying to find Gabrielle Engledue, and I am now wondering whether the girl I am seeking is not the sameas the young lady you know as Gabrielle Tennison. "

"Where did you meet this girl Engledue?" asked Mrs. Cullerton, with aqueer inquisitive look. 

I paused for a second. 

"In London--at the house of a mutual friend. "

Her expression caused me to ponder, for I discerned that she wasinclined to doubt me. 

"And why are you seeking her now?"

"I have a distinct object in view. "

"You've--well, perhaps you've fallen in love with her--eh?" shelaughed lightly. 

"Not at all, " I assured her. "I have a private, but very strong, motive in discovering her. I want to put to her certain questions. "

"About what, Mr. Garfield? Come, it is now my turn to be a littleinquisitive, " and she laughed again. 

"About a certain little matter in which we are mutually interested, "was my evasive answer. Then, after a pause, I looked straight into hereyes, and added very earnestly: "I wonder whether if I should requireyour help, Mrs. Cullerton, you would assist me?"

"In what way?"

"At present I cannot tell. To be frank, I am striving to solve a greatand inscrutable mystery. Just now I am amazed and bewildered. But Ifeel that you are the only person who could help me--because you and Iare equally in peril. "

"But, Mr. Garfield, I see no reason why I should be upon the brink ofthis mysterious abyss!" she cried. "You don't explain the situationsufficiently fully. "

"Because at present I cannot do so. No one regrets it more thanmyself. There is a grim mystery--a very great mystery--and I intend, with your assistance, to escape my enemy and clear it up. "

"Who is your enemy?"

"Oswald De Gex! He is my enemy as well as yours, " I said veryseriously. "If you were in the possession of such facts as those Ihave gathered during the past week or so, you would be startledand--well, perhaps terrified. But I only again beg of you to have acare of yourself. You have promised silence, and I, on my part, willcarry on my search for the truth. "

"The truth of what?"

"The truth concerning Gabrielle Engledue. "

The pretty little woman again looked at me very straight in the facefor some moments without speaking. Then, with a strange hardness abouther mouth, she said:

"Mr. Garfield, take it from me, you will never discover what you arein search of. The truth is too well hidden. "

"What? Then you know something--eh?" I cried quickly. 

"Yes. It is true!" she answered in a low, hard voice. "I do knowsomething--something of a certain secret that can never pass my lips!"

CHAPTER THE TENTH

MONSIEUR SUZOR AGAIN

Mrs. Cullerton's words held me breathless. 

At first I believed that I might wring the truth from her lips, but Iquickly saw that she intended to preserve her secret at all costs. Whether she actually believed what I had told her concerning her ownperil was doubtful. In any case, she seemed in some strange mannerheld powerless and fascinated by the rich man who had saved herspeculating husband from ruin. 

I remained there for still another quarter of an hour until her maidannounced a visitor, when I was compelled to rise and take my leave. 

For a few days longer I remained in Florence; then I left for London. On entering the Calais express at the Gare du Nord in Paris on my wayhome, I was agreeably surprised to find among my fellow travellers toEngland the affable French banker whom I had met on that memorablejourney from York to London. He recognized me at once, and I inquiredwhy he was not, as usual, crossing by air to Croydon. 

"Ah!" he laughed. "The last time I crossed three weeks ago we wentinto a thick fog over the Channel, and it was not very comfortable. SoI prefer the rail just now. "

On this occasion we exchanged cards. His name was Gaston Suzor, andbetween Paris and Calais we discussed many things, for he was awell-informed man and a true hater of the Boches. On the steamer westrolled upon the deck together, and we passed quite a pleasantjourney in company. He was surprised that I had been in Italy, but Iexplained that I had been granted long leave of absence by my firm, and that I had gone to Florence upon private affairs. 

We parted at Charing Cross, Monsieur Suzor to go to the Carlton, and Ihome to our little flat in Rivermead Mansions. 

A note lay upon the dining-room table. Hambledon was away in Cardiff, and he had left word in case I should return unexpectedly. The placewas cold and fireless, and I was glad to go over to the Claredon tohave my dinner. 

My one thought was of Gabrielle Tennison, who lived with her mother ina maisonette at Earl's Court. So I took a taxi to Longridge Road, andafter numerous inquiries at neighbouring shops in Earl's Court Road, Idiscovered in which house lived Mrs. Tennison and her daughter. Thehour was late, therefore I felt that it was useless to keepobservation upon the place in the hope of the girl coming forth. 

I had no excuse to make a call. Besides, I might, if I actedindiscreetly, destroy all my chances of solving the strange enigma. 

Therefore not until ten o'clock on the following morning did I take upmy vigilant watch at the end of the road, at a spot from which I hadfull view of the house in question. My watch proved a long and wearyone, for not until three o'clock in the afternoon was my patiencerewarded. 

The front door suddenly opened, and down the steps came the slimfigure of a girl, followed by a woman. As they approached me I sawthat it was the girl I had seen with Moroni in Florence, while thewoman was, from her dress, evidently an old servant. 

The girl of mystery was attired quite smartly in black, her appearancebeing very different from the shabby figure she presented in Florence. But her beautiful countenance was just as pathetic, with that strangeset expression of ineffable sadness. She passed me by without glancingat me, while the stout, homely woman at her side held her arm linkedin hers. 

They turned into Earl's Court Road and walked towards Kensington HighStreet, while I followed at a respectable distance. I could not failto notice the grace of carriage of the girl whose listless attitudewas so mysterious, and whose exact whereabouts Oswald De Gex wasconcealing from his friend, Mrs. Cullerton. But the one point whichpuzzled me sorely was whether the girl walking in front of me allunconscious of my presence was the same that I had seen dead atStretton Street, and for whom I had given a false certificate to coverup what had evidently been a crime with malice aforethought. 

The pair now and then became lost in the crowd of foot-passengers inbusy Kensington, but I followed them. Occasionally they paused to lookinto Barker's shop windows, but the interest was evidently on the partof the serving-woman, for Gabrielle Tennison--or whatever her actualname--seemed to evince no heed of things about her. She walked likeone in a dream, with her thoughts afar off, yet her face was thesweetest, most beautiful, and yet the saddest I had ever witnessed. Tragedy was written upon her pale countenance, and I noticed that oneor two men and women in passing the pair turned to look back at them. In that face of flawless beauty a strange story was written--a mysterywhich I was strenuously seeking to solve. 

Presently they entered Kensington Gardens, strolling along thegravelled walks beneath the bare, leafless trees that were so blackwith London's grime. The day was cold, but bright, hence quite anumber of persons were walking there, together with the usual crowd ofnursemaids with the children of the well-to-do from the Hyde Park andKensington districts. 

The pair passed leisurely half-way up the Broad Walk, when theypresently rested upon a seat nearly opposite the great façade ofKensington Palace. 

I saw that I had not been noticed either by the old servant or by hermysterious young mistress, therefore I sank quickly upon a seat somedistance away, but in such a position that I could still see them asthey talked together. 

Was Gabrielle Engledue living--or was she dead? Or was GabrielleTennison and Gabrielle Engledue one and the same person? A living faceis different from that of the same person when dead, hence the greatproblem presenting itself. 

It seemed as though in conversation the girl became animated, for shegesticulated slightly as though in angry protest at some remark of hercompanion, and then suddenly I had a great surprise. 

Coming down the Broad Walk I saw a figure in a grey overcoat and softbrown hat which I instantly recognized. He walked straight to wherethe pair were seated, lifted his hat, and then seated himself besidethe girl. 

The man was my French friend, Suzor!

That they had gone there on purpose to meet him was now quite clear, for after a few moments the old woman laughed, rose and walked on, inorder to leave the girl alone with the Frenchman. What could be themeaning of that clandestine meeting?--for clandestine it was, orMonsieur Suzor would have called at Longridge Road. Possibly theyexpected that they might be watched, hence they had met as though byaccident at that spot where they believed they would not be observed. 

Gaston Suzor was a shrewd, clever man. But what did this friendshipwith Gabrielle Tennison denote? As I watched I saw him speaking veryearnestly. For some time she sat with her gloved hands idly in her laplistening to his words without comment. Then she shook her head, andput up her hands in protest. Afterwards by her attitude she seemed tobe appealing to him, while he remained obdurate and unperturbed. 

I longed to overhear their conversation, but in the fading light ofthat brief wintry afternoon it was impossible to approach closer. Icould only sit and watch. My eyes were strained to see every gestureof the pair, now that the stout figure of the girl's companion haddisappeared towards the Bayswater Road. In that oasis in the desert ofaristocratic London one can obtain quite sylvan surroundings. True, the trees and vegetation are covered with a film of grime from themillions of smoking chimneys of the giant metropolis, still KensingtonGardens ever possesses a charm all its own as a clandestinemeeting-place for well-born lovers and ill-born loafers, fornursemaids and soldiers, and for persons of both sexes who wish for alittle quiet talk in the open air in order so often to clear a hecticatmosphere. 

Such I judged to be the case between Gaston Suzor and GabrielleTennison. 

At first the girl sat inert with downcast eyes listening to the man. But suddenly she raised her hands in quick protest again, andapparently became resentful--even angry. Then when he spoke somereassuring words she became calmer. 

As I sat there shrewdly watching, I could not help reflecting upon astill further problem which now presented itself. The very last personin the world whom I should have suspected of being connected with thestrange affair at Stretton Street was my affable friend the Frenchbanker. I now began to wonder if my first meeting with him in theexpress train between York and King's Cross just before my amazingadventure had been simply by chance, or had it any connection betweenthat meeting and the trap which had, without a doubt, been socunningly prepared for me as I passed through Stretton Street to myuncle's house on the following evening. 

The fact that I had again met the mysterious Suzor at the Gare duNord, in Paris, just as I was on my way back to London to pursuefurther inquiries was, in itself, suspicious. I confess that I satutterly bewildered. One thing was plain, namely, that he had nosuspicion that I was keeping such close observation upon Gabrielle. Iknew where she lived, and to me he had given his hotel address. 

At last, after quite twenty minutes of serious conversation, thestout, flat-footed servant returned, and after a few pleasant wordswith her, Suzor rose, and raising his hat, left them. 

Instantly it occurred to me that, as I knew the girl's abode, it wouldbe more useful perhaps to watch the movements of my friend the Frenchbanker. 

He took the path which skirted the lake, and then cut down thestraight way which leads to Alexandra Gate into Rotten Row, while Ifollowed him far behind though I kept him well in sight. He wentswiftly at a swinging pace, for he had apparently grown cold whileseated there in the north wind. The ground was hard and frosty, andthe sky grey and lowering, with every evidence that a snowstorm mightbe expected. 

He walked the whole length of Rotten Row, that leafy way which is soanimated when social London disports itself in the season, and whichon a black wintry afternoon, when the smart set are on the Riviera orin Egypt, is so dull and deserted. At Hyde Park Corner he turned alongPiccadilly, until he hailed a passing taxi, to the driver of which hegave deliberate instructions. 

I glanced around, and very fortunately saw another disengaged taxi, which I entered, giving the man instructions to keep the other inview, with a promise of double fare. Instantly the man entered intothe spirit of the enterprise, and away we went towards the Circus, andthence by way of Oxford Street to the Euston Road, where before asmall private hotel quite close to the station Suzor descended, and, paying the man, entered. 

For three hours I waited outside, but he did not emerge. Then I wentto the Carlton, and from the reception-clerk ascertained that MonsieurSuzor was staying there, but he did not always sleep there. Sometimeshe would be absent for two or three nights. He went away into thecountry, the smart young clerk believed. 

Hence I established the curious fact that Gaston Suzor when in Londonhad two places of abode, one in that best-known hotel, and the otherin the obscurity of a frowsy house patronized by lower-class visitorsto London. 

What could be the motive, I wondered?

I returned to the Carlton at midnight and inquired for Monsieur Suzor. The night-clerk told me that he had not yet returned. 

So I went back to the cold cheerlessness of Rivermead Mansions, andslept until the following morning. 

At each turn I seemed to be confronted by mystery which piled uponmystery. Ever before my eyes I saw that handsome girl lying cold andlifeless, and I had forged a certificate in the name of a well-knownmedical man, upon which her body had been reduced to ashes! That I hadacted as accomplice to some cunning and deliberate crime I could notdisguise from myself. It was now up to me to make amends before Godand man, to strive to solve the enigma and to bring the guilty personsto justice. 

This was what I was endeavouring, with all my soul, to accomplish. 

Yet the point was whether Gabrielle Engledue was really dead, orwhether she still existed in the person of Gabrielle Tennison. Thatwas the first fact for me to establish. 

Next morning I rose early and gazed across the cold misty Thames tothe great factories and wharves upon the opposite bank. The outlookwas indeed dull and dispiriting, I stood recalling how Moroni hadwalked with the beautiful girl in the streets of Florence, unwillinglyit seemed, for he certainly feared lest his companion be recognized. Ialso recollected the strange conversation I had heard with my ownears, and the curious attitude which little Mrs. Cullerton had adoptedtowards me, even though she had revealed to me the whereabouts ofGabrielle Tennison. 

My breakfast was ready soon after eight o'clock, and afterwards I wentto Earl's Court to watch the house in Longridge Road. By dint ofcareful inquiries in the neighbourhood I was told that Mrs. Tennisonhad gone away a few days before--to Paris, they believed. 

"The young lady, Miss Tennison, appears to be rather peculiar, " Iremarked casually to a woman at a baker's shop near by, after she hadtold me that she served them with bread. 

"Yes, poor young lady!" replied the woman. "She's never been the samesince she was taken ill last November. They say she sustained somegreat shock which so upset her that her mind is now a little affected. Old Mrs. Alford, the servant there, tells me that the poor girl willgo a whole day and never open her mouth. She's like one dumb!"

"How very curious!" I remarked. "I wonder what kind of shock it wasthat caused such a change in her? Was she quite all right beforeNovember?"

"Perfectly. She was a bright clever girl, and used often to come inhere to me for chocolate and cakes. She was full of life andmerriment. It is really pathetic to see her as she is nowadays. Sheseems to be brooding over something, but what it is nobody can makeout. "

"Very remarkable, " I said. "I've noticed her about, and have wonderedat her attitude--like many others, I suppose. "

"Yes. Her mother has taken her to a number of mental specialists, Ihear, but nobody seems to be able to do her any good. They say she'ssuffered from some shock, but they can't tell exactly what it is, because the young lady seems to have entirely lost her memory over acertain period. "

"Is Mrs. Tennison well off?" I asked. 

"No--the reverse, I should think, " the baker's wife replied. "I'veheard that Mr. Tennison was a very rich man, but when he died it wasfound that he was on the verge of bankruptcy, and the widow was leftvery poorly off. "

It is curious what intimate knowledge the little tradespeople gleanabout their neighbours, even in London. From the woman I gathered oneor two facts of interest. 

I inquired if Mrs. Tennison had many visitors, whereupon she repliedin the negative, and added:

"There used to be an Italian gentleman who called very often a fewweeks ago. He often walked out with the young lady. Somebody said hewas a doctor, but I don't know if he was. "

I asked the woman to tell me what he was like, when she gave me anaccurate description of the mysterious doctor of the Via Cavezzo!

So Moroni had visited her there--in Longridge Road!

I tried to ascertain if Gaston Suzor had been there also, but myinformant had no knowledge of him. She had never seen him walking withGabrielle Tennison, as she had so often seen the Italian. 

I remained for nearly half an hour chatting, retiring, of course, whenshe was compelled to serve customers, and then I left her and walkedround to the house in Longridge Road, where I watched a little while, and then returned to the Carlton. 

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH

THE ABSOLUTE FACTS

"Monsieur Suzor has not yet returned, " was the reply of the smartreception-clerk when I inquired for the French banker. "But he isoften away for two or three days. "

I left the hotel, and taking a taxi to the Euston Road made a thoroughexamination of the high shabby house with its smoke-grimed lacecurtains, a place which bore over the fan-light the words "PrivateHotel. " In the broad light of day it looked a most dull, uninvitingplace; more so even than its neighbours. There are many such hotels inthe vicinity of Euston Station, and this seemed the most wretched ofthem all, for the windows had not been cleaned for many months, whilethe steps badly wanted scrubbing. 

After I had thoroughly examined the place in front, I went round tothe back, where I discovered, to my surprise, that the house had anexit at the rear through a mews into a drab, dull street which ranparallel. Then, for the first time, the thought occurred to me that onthe previous day the Frenchman might have entered by the front doorand passed out by the back into the next street!

I waited an hour idling about, and then I went boldly to the door, andknocked. 

A black-haired, slatternly woman in a torn and soiled apron opened thedoor slightly. 

"We're full up, " she snapped before I could speak. "We haven't anyroom to let. "

"I don't require a room, " I replied politely. "I've called to see theFrench gentleman you have staying here--Monsieur Suzor. "

I thought she started at mention of the name, for she still held thedoor ajar as though to prevent me from peering inside. 

"We've got no French gent a-staying 'ere, " she replied. "You've made amistake. "

"But I saw him enter here last night. "

"You must 'ave been mistaken, " the woman said. "'E might 'ave gonenext door. They 'ave a lot of visitors. "

"But you are full up--eh?"

"Yes--with our reg'lar residents, " she answered promptly. But from hernervousness of manner I knew she was not telling the truth. I waspositive that Suzor had entered there, but she denied all knowledge ofhim. Why?

Without a doubt, while I had waited for him to emerge, he had passedout by the back way. If so, was it possible that he had seen andrecognized me, and wished to escape unseen?

The house was certainly one of mystery. The woman was palpablyperturbed by my inquiry, and she seemed relieved when I turned awaywith feigned disappointment. 

"Try next door, " she suggested, and disappeared. 

As I walked along Euston Road in the direction of Tottenham CourtRoad, I fell to wondering whether that frowsy house was one of thosewhich exist in various quarters of London where thieves and personshiding from the police can find sanctuary, and whether Suzor, knowingthat I had seen him, had escaped me by passing through to the back andthus getting away!

I longed to know the character of the serious conversation he had hadwith Gabrielle Tennison. That indeed was my object to discover, hencethat afternoon I still pursued my bold tactics and at about threeo'clock I rang the bell in Longridge Road. 

That act, the true consequences of which I never dreamed, eventuallybrought upon me a strange and sensational series of complications andadventures so remarkable that I sometimes think that it is only by amiracle I am alive to set down the facts in black and white. 

The old woman-servant, Mrs. Alford, opened the door, whereupon I said:

"I trust you will excuse me, but as a matter of fact I am desirous ofa few minutes' private conversation with you. "

She looked askance at me, and naturally. I was a perfect stranger, andservants do not care to admit strangers to the house when theirmistress is absent. 

"I know that this is Mrs. Tennison's house, " I went on, "and also thatyou are left in charge of Miss Gabrielle. It is about her that I wishto consult you. I think I may be able to tell you something ofinterest, " and I handed her my card. 

Mrs. Alford read the name, but at first she seemed rather disinclinedto admit me. Indeed, not until I had further whetted her curiosity byagain telling her that I could give her some interesting information, did she show me upstairs to the cosy maisonnette on the first floor. It was a large house which had been divided into two residences, onethe basement and ground floor, and the other the first and secondfloors. It was in the latter that Mrs. Tennison lived. 

She ushered me into a pretty drawing-room, small, but very tastefullyfurnished. In the adjoining room someone was playing a piano; no doubtit was Gabrielle. 

"Well, Mrs. Alford, " I began. "I have ventured to call here because Ihave learned of Miss Gabrielle's unfortunate mental condition, andperhaps I may have a key to it. "

"What--do you know something, sir?" asked the stout buxom woman, forthe first time impressed by my seriousness. "Do you know anything ofwhat happened?"

"Perhaps, " was my non-committal reply. "But first, I wish you torespect my confidence. I know you'll do that in the interests of thepoor young lady. "

"I'll do anything in her interests, sir, " she replied, and invited meto take a seat, she herself remained standing, as a servant should. 

"Well, then, say nothing to your mistress, or to anyone else regardingmy visit. First, I want you to answer one or two questions so as toeither confirm or negative certain suspicions which I hold. "

"Suspicions of what?" she asked. 

"I will reveal those in due course, " I replied. "Now, tell me whathappened to Miss Gabrielle that she should be in her present mentalstate?"

"Nobody can tell, sir. She went out one evening in November to go toher dancing lesson, and was not seen again until six days later, whenshe was found on the Portsmouth Road half-way between Liphook andPetersfield. She had evidently walked a considerable distance and wason her way towards London, when she collapsed at the roadside. Acarter discovered her, gave warning to the police at Petersfield, andshe was taken to the hospital, where it was found that her memory hadentirely gone. She could not recognize her mother or anyone else. "

"On what date did she disappear?" I asked breathlessly. 

"On November the seventh. "

I held my breath. It was on the day of my startling adventure. 

"Would you describe to me the exact circumstances?" I asked eagerly. "I may be able to throw a very interesting light upon the affair. "

The woman hesitated. Perhaps it was but natural. 

"Well, " she said at last. "My mistress is away. I think you ought tosee her, sir. "

"Why, Mrs. Alford? You are the trusted servant of the family, andsurely you know the whole facts?"

"I do, " she answered in a low, tense voice. "They are mostremarkable. "

"Then tell me all you know, and in return I will try to explain somematters which are no doubt to you and to Mrs. Tennison a mystery. "

"Well, after tea on the day in question, the seventh of November, MissGabrielle went out to go to Addison Road to Mrs. Gill's dancing class. She was in the best of health and in high spirits because she had thatmorning received an invitation to go and stay with her cousin Leonoraat Newmarket on the following Wednesday. As far as we know she had nota single trouble in the world. "

"She had no admirers--eh?"

"Yes, several. But she had no serious flirtations, as far as we canmake out, " replied Mrs. Alford. "Her mother had gone to pay a visit, and when Miss Gabrielle went out she told me that she would be home atnine o'clock. Though we waited till midnight she did not return. Weremained up all night, and next morning when I went to Mrs. Gill, inAddison Road, I found that she had left there at half-past six toreturn home. We then went to Kensington Police Station, and gave herdescription to the police. "

"What was their theory?" I asked. 

"They thought she had left home of her own accord--that she had alover in secret. At least, the inspector hinted at that suggestion. "

"Of course her mother was frantic, " I remarked. "But had you nosuspicion of any person posing as her friend?"

"None. It was not till six days later--about one o'clock in the day, when a constable called and told Mrs. Tennison that a young ladyanswering the description of her daughter had been found at theroadside, and had been taken to the cottage hospital at Petersfield. We both took the next train from Waterloo, and on arrival at thehospital found the poor girl lying in bed. But so strange was hermanner that she was unable to recognize either of us. All she couldsay were the words 'Red, green and gold!' and she shuddered in horroras though the colours terrified her. These words she constantlyrepeated--'red, green and gold!'--'red, green and gold!'"

"What was the doctor's opinion?"

"He was as much puzzled as we were, sir. Apparently my poor youngmistress was found early in the morning lying in the hedge on the mainPortsmouth Road. Her clothes were wet, for it had rained during thenight. Her boots were very muddy, and her clothes in an awful state. She seemed as if she had wandered about for hours. But all she couldsay to us were the words: 'Red, green and gold. '"

"Did not she recognize her mother?" I inquired. 

"No, sir. She hasn't recognized her--even now!"

"Doctors have seen her, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, half a dozen of them--including Doctor Moroni, the greatItalian doctor. He took her to Florence for treatment, but it did herno good--none in the least. "

"How did you know Moroni?" I asked quickly. 

"I think he became interested in her through one of the doctors towhom Mrs. Tennison took her. "

"Mrs. Tennison did not know Moroni before this affair?" I inquired. 

"No, sir. Not to my knowledge. He's a very nice gentleman, and hasbeen awfully kind to Miss Gabrielle, " replied Mrs. Alford. "Like allthe other doctors he thinks that she has sustained some very severeshock--but of what nature nobody can tell. "

"What other doctor has seen her?" I asked. 

"Oh!--well, Sir Charles Wendover, in Cavendish Square, has taken agreat interest in her. He has seen her several times, but seems unableto restore her to her normal state of mind. "

Sir Charles was one of our greatest mental specialists, I knew, and ifhe had been unable to do anything, then her case must be hopeless. 

"But Doctor Moroni took her away to Italy, " I said. "For what reason?"

"He took her to Professor Casuto, of Florence--I think that's thename--but he could do nothing, so she was brought back again. "

"Now tell me frankly, Mrs. Alford, " I said, looking the stout, well-preserved woman full in the face. "Have you ever heard the nameof De Gex--a rich gentleman who lives in Stretton Street, just offPark Lane?"

"De Gex!" she repeated, her countenance assuming a blank expression. "Yes, I've heard of him. I've read of him in the papers. He's amillionaire, they say. "

"You have never heard of him in connexion with Miss Tennison? Is sheacquainted with him?"

"Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"I have a distinct reason for asking, " was my reply. "Remember that Iam seeking to solve the enigma of your young mistress's presentextraordinary state of mind. Any information you can give me willassist me towards that end. "

As I spoke I heard a sweet contralto voice in the adjoining room breakout into a song from one of the popular revues. It was Gabrielle'svoice, I knew. 

"All the information I possess, sir, is at your disposal, " the womanassured me. "I only wish Mrs. Tennison was here to answer yourquestions. "

"But you know as much as she does, " I said. "Now tell me--what is yourtheory? What happened to your young mistress during the time shedisappeared?"

Mrs. Alford lifted her hands in dismay. 

"What can we think? She went away quite bright and happy. When she wasfound wandering on the road between London and Portsmouth her memorywas a blank. She was haggard, worn, and much aged--aged in those fewdays of her absence. She could remember nothing, and all she couldrepeat were those strange words 'Red, green and gold. '"

"I wonder why those colours were so impressed upon her memory?" Iremarked. 

"Ah! That is what puzzles the doctors so. Each evening, just as itgrows dark, she sits down and is silent for half an hour, with eyesdowncast as though thinking deeply. Then she will suddenly start upand cry, 'Ah! I see--I see--yes--that terrible red, green and gold!Oh! it's horrible--bewildering--fascinating--red, green and gold!'The three colours seem to obsess her always at nightfall. That is whatDoctor Moroni told me. "

I paused for a few moments. 

"You've never heard her speak of Mr. De Gex? You're quite sure?"

"Quite, " was Mrs. Alford's reply. "My young mistress was studyingsinging at the Royal Academy of Music. Hark! You hear her now! Has shenot a beautiful voice? Ah, sir--it is all a great tragedy! It hasbroken her mother's heart. Only to think that to-day the poor girl iswithout memory, and her brain is entirely unbalanced. 'Red, green andgold' is all that seems to matter to her. And whenever she recollectsit and the words escape her drawn lips she seems petrified by horror. "

What the woman told me was, I realized, the actual truth. And yet whenI recollected that I had seen the dark-eyed victim lying dead in thatspacious room in the house of Mr. De Gex in Stretton Street, I becameutterly bewildered. I had seen her dead there. I had held a mirror toher half-open lips and it had not become clouded. Yet in my ears therenow sounded the sweet tuneful strains of that bird-song from "JoyBells. "

Truly, the unfortunate girl possessed a glorious voice, which wouldmake a fortune upon the concert platform or the stage. 

I did my level best to obtain more information concerning the Italiandoctor and the man De Gex, but the woman could tell me absolutelynothing. She was concealing nothing from me--that I knew. 

It was only when I mentioned the French banker, Monsieur Suzor, thatshe started and became visibly perturbed. 

"I have no knowledge of the gentleman, " she declared. Yet had I notseen them together in Kensington Gardens?

"I don't know whether he is known to you as Suzor, " I said. Then Idescribed him as accurately as I could. 

But the woman shook her head. For the first time she now lied to me. With my own eyes I had seen the man approach her and the girl, andafter they had greeted each other, she had risen and left the girlalone with him. 

Curiously enough when the pair were alone together they seemed tounderstand each other. I recollected it all most vividly. 

To say the least it was strange why, being so frank upon otherdetails, she so strenuously denied all knowledge of the affableFrenchman who had been my fellow-traveller from York almostimmediately preceding my strange adventures in the heart of London. 

My conversation with her had been, to say the least, highlyilluminating, and I had learnt several facts of which I had been inignorance. But this fixed assertion that she knew nothing of theelusive Frenchman aroused my suspicions. 

What was she hiding from me?

I felt that she was concealing some very essential point--one thatmight well prove the clue to the whole puzzling enigma. 

And while we spoke the girl's clear contralto rang out, while sheherself played the accompaniment. 

At length I saw that I could obtain no further information from theservant, therefore I begged to be introduced to her young mistress, assuring her of my keen interest in the most puzzling problem. 

Apparently relieved that I pressed her no further regarding thehandsome but insidious Frenchman, the woman at once ushered me intothe adjoining room--a small but well-furnished one--where at the grandpiano sat the girl whose eyes were fixed, though not sightless as Ihad believed when in Florence. 

She turned them suddenly upon my companion, and stopped playing. 

"Ah! dear Alford!" she exclaimed, "I wondered if you were at home. "Then she paused. She apparently had no knowledge of my presence, forshe had not turned to me, though I stood straight in her line of gaze. "I thought you had gone out to see Monsieur--to tell him my message. "She again paused, and drew her breath. 

I stood gazing upon her beautiful face, dark, tragic and full ofmystery. She sat at the piano, her white fingers inert upon the keys. 

She wore a simple navy blue frock, cut low in the neck with a touch ofcream upon it, and edged with scarlet piping--a dress which at thatmoment was the mode. 

Yet her pale, blank countenance was indeed pathetic, a face upon whichtragedy was written. I stood for a moment gazing upon her, perplexed, bewildered and breathless in mystery. 

I spoke. She rose from her seat, and turned to me. 

Her reply, low and tense, staggered me!

CHAPTER THE TWELFTH

"RED, GREEN AND GOLD!"

"I know you!" she cried, staring at me as though transformed byterror. "They told me you would come! You are my enemy--you are hereto kill me!"

"To kill you, Miss Tennison!" I gasped. "No, I am certainly not yourenemy. I am your friend!"

She looked very hard at me, and I noticed that her lips twitchedslightly. 

"You--you are Mr. Garfield--Hugh Garfield?" she asked, her handsquivering nervously. 

"Yes. That is my name, " I replied. "How do you know it?"

"They--they told me. They told me in Florence. The doctor pointed youout. He told me that you were my worst enemy--that you intend to killme!"

"Doctor Moroni told you that?" I inquired kindly. 

"Yes. One day you were in the Via Tornabuoni and he made me take noteof you. It was then that he told me you were a man of evil intentions, and warned me to be wary of you. "

I paused. Here was yet another sinister action on the part of Moroni!Besides, I was unaware that he had realized I had watched him!

"Ah! yes, I see, " I replied, in an attempt to humour her, for she wasvery sweet and full of grace and beauty. "The doctor tried to set youagainst me. And yet, strangely enough, I am your friend. Why should heseek to do this?"

"How can I tell?" replied the girl in a strange blank voice. "But heevidently hates you. He told me that you were also his enemy, as wellas mine. He said that it was his intention to take steps to preventyou from seeking mischief against both of us. "

This struck me as distinctly curious. Though the poor girl's mind wasunbalanced it was evident that she could recollect some things, whileher memory did not serve her in others. Of course it was quitefeasible that Moroni, on discovering that I was on the alert, wouldwarn her against me. 

Suddenly, hoping to further stir the chords of her memory, I asked:

"Have you seen Mr. De Gex lately?"

"Who?" she inquired blankly. 

"Mr. Oswald De Gex--who lives in Stretton Street. "

She shook her head blankly. 

"I'm afraid I--I don't know him, " she replied. "Who is he?"

"Surely you know Stretton Street?" I asked. 

"No--where is it?" she inquired in that strange inert manner whichcharacterized her mentality. 

I did not pursue the question further, for it was evident that shenow had no knowledge of the man in whose house I had seen herlying--apparently dead. And if she were not dead whose body was itthat had been cremated? That was one of the main points of the problemwhich, try how I would, I failed to grasp. 

Would the enigma ever be solved?

As she stood in her mother's cosy little drawing-room GabrielleTennison presented a strangely tragic figure. In the grey London lightshe was very beautiful it was true, but upon her pale countenance wasthat terribly vacant look which was the index of her overwroughtbrain. Her memory had been swept away by some unknown horror--so thedoctors had declared. And yet she seemed to remember distinctly whatDoctor Moroni had alleged against me in Florence!

Therefore I questioned her further concerning the Italian, and foundthat she recollected quite a lot about him. 

"He has been very kind to you--has he not?" I asked. 

"Yes. He is an exceedingly kind friend. He took me to see severaldoctors in Florence and Rome. All of them said I had lost my memory, "and she smiled sweetly. 

"And haven't you lost your memory?"

"A little--perhaps--but not much. "

Here Mrs. Alford interrupted. 

"But you don't recollect what happened to you when you were away, until you were found wandering near Petersfield. Tell us, dear. "

"No--no, not exactly, " the girl answered. "All I recollect is that itwas all red, green and gold--oh! such bright dazzling colours--red, green and gold! At first they were glorious--until--until sight ofthem blinded me--they seemed to burn into my brain--eh!" And she drewback and placed her right arm across her eyes as though to shut outfrom her gaze something that appalled her. "There they are!" sheshrieked. "I see them again--always the same, day and night--red, green and gold!--red, green and gold!"

I exchanged glances with the woman Alford. It was apparent that theshock the girl had sustained had been somehow connected with thecolours red, green and gold. 

I tried to obtain from her some faint idea of the nature of what shehad witnessed, but she was quite unable to explain. That she hadfallen victim to some deep-laid plot was evident. 

She remembered much of her visit to Florence, I found, for when Irecalled the great Duomo, where I had first seen her with Moroni, shebecame quite talkative and told me how much she admired themagnificent monuments--the Battistero, the Bigallo, Giotto's campanileand the magnificent pictures in the Pitti and Uffizi. 

Moroni had apparently also taken her to Rome, presumably to consultanother Italian professor, for she spoke vaguely of the Corso and St. Peter's and described the Forum in such a manner that she must havevisited it. 

While I sat chatting with her it struck me that in the blank state ofher mind certain things stood out very prominently--a mental statewell known to alienists--while others were entirely blotted out. 

I referred to the millionaire who lived in Stretton Street, but againshe declared, and with truth, that she had no recollection of him. 

"Perhaps, Miss Tennison, you knew him under some other name, " I said, and then proceeded to describe minutely the handsome, ratherforeign-looking man who had bribed me to give that certificate ofdeath. 

"Have you an uncle?" I asked presently, recollecting that the man atStretton Street had declared the victim to be his niece. 

"I have an uncle--my mother's brother--he lives in Liverpool. "

Again I fell to wondering whether the beautiful girl before me wasactually the same person whose death I had certified to be due toheart disease, and who, according to the official records, had beencremated. She was very like--and yet? Well, the whole affair was aproblem which each hour became more inscrutable. 

Still the fact remained that Gabrielle Tennison had disappearedsuddenly on November the seventh, the night I had met with my amazingadventure. 

In reply to my further questions, as she sat staring blankly into myface with those great dark eyes of hers, I at last gathered thatDoctor Moroni, hearing of her case from a specialist in Harley Street, to whom she had been taken by the police-surgeon, had called upon hermother, and had had a long interview with her. Afterwards he hadcalled daily, and later Mrs. Tennison had allowed him to take herdaughter to Florence to consult another specialist at the hospital ofSanta Maria Nuova. 

"I think you know a Mrs. Cullerton, " I remarked at last. 

The effect of my words upon her was almost electrical. 

"Dolly Cullerton!" she shrieked. "Ah! Don't mention that woman's name!Please do not mention her!"

"I believed that she was a friend of yours, " I said, much surprised. 

"Friend? No, enemy--a bitter enemy!"

"Then you have quarrelled? She was once your friend--eh? Over whathave you quarrelled?"

"That is my own affair!" she snapped in apparent annoyance. "If youknow her, don't trust her. I warn you!" Then she added: "She is awicked woman. "

"And her husband, Jack?"

"Ah! he's an excellent fellow--far too good for her!"

"Why do you entertain such antipathy toward her?" I asked. "Do tellme, because it will make my inquiries so very much easier. "

"Inquiries? What inquiries are you making?"

I was silent for a moment, then looking straight into her eyes, Ireplied very seriously:

"I am making inquiries, Miss Tennison, into what happened to youduring those days when you disappeared. I am seeking to bringpunishment upon those who are responsible for your present condition. "

She shook her head mournfully, and a faint smile played about herlips. But she did not reply. 

"Tell me more about Mrs. Cullerton, " I went on. "She was in Florencewhen you were there. "

"In Florence!" exclaimed the girl, as though amazed. "What could shebe doing there?"

"She was living in a furnished villa with her husband. And she went onseveral visits to Mr. De Gex who lives up at Fiesole. Are you quitesure you do not know him?" I asked. "He lives at the Villa Clementini. Have you ever been there? Does the Villa Clementini recall anything toyou?"

She was thoughtful for a few moments, and then said:

"I seem to have heard of the villa, but in what connexion I do notrecollect. "

"You are certain you do not know the owner of the villa?" I askedagain, and described him once more very minutely. 

But alas! her mind seemed a perfect blank. 

For what reason had Moroni come to London and taken her with him toFlorence? But for the matter of that, what could be the motive of thewhole puzzling affair--and further, whose was the body that had beencremated?

The points I had established all combined to form an enigma which nowseemed utterly beyond solution. 

The pale tragic figure before me held me incensed against those whosevictim she had been, for it seemed that for some distinct reason hermental balance had been wantonly destroyed. 

Again and again, as she sat with her hands lying idly in her lap, shestared at the carpet and repeated to herself in a horrified voicethose strange words: "Red, green and gold!--red, green and gold!"

"Cannot you recollect about those colours?" I asked her kindly. "Tryand think about them. Where did you see them?"

She drew a long breath, and turning her tired eyes upon mine, shereplied wearily:

"I--I can't remember. I really can't remember anything!"

Sometimes her eyes were fixed straight before her just as I had seenher in the Via Calzajoli in Florence--when I had believed her to beblind. At such times her gaze was vacant, and she seemed to beentirely oblivious to all about her. At others she seemed quitenormal, save that she could not recall what had occurred in those dayswhen she was lost to her friends--days when I, too, had been missingand had returned to my senses with my own memory either distorted orblotted out. 

Could it be that the same drug, or other diabolical method, had beenused upon us both, and that I, the stronger of the two, had recovered, while she still remained in that half demented state?

It certainly seemed so. Hence the more I reflected the more intensebecame my resolve to fathom the mystery and bring those responsible tojustice. 

Further, she had been terrified by being told that I intended to comethere to kill her! Moroni had purposely told her that, evidently inanticipation that we might meet! He had pointed me out in Florence andwarned her that I was her bitterest enemy. Was it therefore any wonderthat she would not tell me more than absolutely obliged?

"Do you recollect ever meeting a French gentleman named MonsieurSuzor?" I asked her presently. 

Instantly she exchanged glances with the woman Alford. 

"No, " was her slow reply, her eyes again downcast. "I have noknowledge of any such man. "

It was upon the tip of my tongue to point out that they had met thatmysterious Frenchman in Kensington Gardens, but I hesitated. Theycertainly were unaware that I had watched them. 

Again, my French friend was a mystery. I did not lose sight of thefact that our first meeting had taken place on the day before mystartling adventure in Stretton Street, and I began to wonder whetherthe man from Paris had not followed me up to York and purposely joinedthe train in which I had travelled back to London. 

Why did both the woman Alford and Gabrielle Tennison deny allknowledge of the man whom they had met with such precautions ofsecrecy, and who, when afterwards he discovered that I was followinghim, had so cleverly evaded me? The man Suzor was evidently implicatedin the plot, though I had never previously suspected it! Twice he hadtravelled with me, meeting me as though by accident, yet I now sawthat he had been my companion with some set purpose in view. 

What could it be?

It became quite plain that I could not hope to obtain anything furtherfrom either Gabrielle or the servant, therefore I assumed a polite andsympathetic attitude and told them that I hoped to call again on Mrs. Tennison's return. Afterwards I left, feeling that at least I hadgained some knowledge, even though it served to bewilder me the more. 

Later I called upon Sir Charles Wendover in Cavendish Square, whom Ifound to be a quiet elderly man of severe professional aspect anddemeanour, a man whose photograph I had often seen in the newspapers, for he was one of the best-known of mental specialists. 

When I explained that the object of my visit was to learn something ofthe case of my friend Miss Tennison, he asked me to sit down and thenswitched on a green-shaded reading-lamp and referred to a big bookupon his writing table. His consulting room was dull and dark, withheavy Victorian furniture and a great bookcase filled with medicalworks. In the chair in which I sat persons of all classes had satwhile he had examined and observed them, and afterwards given hisopinion to their friends. 

"Ah! yes, " he exclaimed, when at last he found the notes he had madeupon the case. "I saw the young lady on the twenty-eighth of November. A most peculiar case--most peculiar! Leicester and Franklyn both sawher, but they were just as much puzzled as myself. "

And through his big round horn spectacles he continued reading tohimself the several pages of notes. 

"Yes, " he remarked at last. "I now recall all the facts. A verycurious case. The young lady disappeared from her friends, and wasfound some days later wandering near Petersfield, in Hampshire, in anexhausted condition. She could not account for her disappearance, orthe state in which she was. Her memory had completely gone, and shehas not, I believe, yet recovered it. "

"No, she has not, " I said. "But the reason I have ventured to call, Sir Charles, is to hear your opinion on the case. "

"My opinion!" he echoed. "What opinion can I hold when the effect isso plain--loss of memory?"

"Ah! But how could such a state of mind be produced?" I asked. 

"You ask me for the cause. That, my dear sir, I cannot say, " was hisanswer. "There are several causes which would produce a similareffect. Probably it was some great shock. But of what nature we cannotpossibly discover unless she herself recovers her normal memory so faras to be able to assist us. I see that I have noted how she constantlyrepeats the words 'red, green and gold. ' That combination of colourshas apparently impressed itself upon her mind to such an extent thatit has become an obsession. Often she will utter no other words thanthose. She was seen by a number of eminent men, but nobody couldsuggest any cause other than shock. "

"Is it possible that some drug could have been administered to her?"

"Everything is possible, " Sir Charles answered. "But I know of no drugwhich would produce such effect. In brief, I confess that I have noidea what can have caused the sudden mental breakdown. "

I felt impelled to relate to him the whole story of my own adventures, but I hesitated. As a matter of fact I feared that he might regard it, as he most probably would have done, as a mere chimera of my ownimagination. 

A girl I had seen dead--or believed I had seen dead--was now living!And she was Gabrielle Tennison. 

Of that I had no doubt, for the dates of our adventures corresponded. 

And yet a girl also named Gabrielle had died and her body had beencremated!

The whole affair seemed to be beyond human credence. And yet you, myreader, have in this record the exact, hard and undeniable facts. 

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH

SOME INTERESTING REVELATIONS

Next day I went to the office of Francis and Goldsmith, and after aconsultation with both principals, during which I briefly outlined thecurious circumstances such as I have here related, I was grantedfurther leave of absence. 

Yet I entertained a distinct feeling that old Mr. Francis somewhatdoubted the truth of my statements. But was it surprising, soextraordinary had been my adventures?

"Perhaps you do not credit my statements, gentlemen, " I said beforeleaving their room. "But one day I hope to solve the enigma, and youwill then learn one of the most extraordinary stories that any man haslived to tell. "

Afterwards I went round to the Carlton and inquired for MonsieurSuzor. To my surprise he was in. 

Therefore I was ushered up to his private sitting-room, where hegreeted me very warmly--so frankly welcome did he make me, indeed, that I wondered whether, after all, he had detected me following him, or whether he had entered and escaped from that house in the EustonRoad with some entirely different motive. 

"Ah, my dear friend!" he cried in his excellent English. "I wonderedwhat had become of you. I called at Rivermead Mansions three days ago, but I could get no reply when I rang at your flat. The porter saidthat both you and your friend were out, and he had no idea when youwould return. I go back to Paris to-morrow. "

"Shall you fly across this time?" I asked. 

"No. I go by train. I have a lot of luggage--some purchases I havemade for my friend the Baroness de Henonville. "

It was then about five o'clock, so he ordered some tea, and overcigarettes we chatted for nearly an hour. 

The longer I conversed with him the more mysterious he appeared. Whyhad he crossed from Paris to London with me in order to meetclandestinely the poor girl who was the rich man's victim? That wasone point which arose in my mind. 

But the main question was the reason of his supposed chance meetingwith me in the express between York and London. 

During our chat I feared to refer to Gabrielle lest he should suspectthat I knew of his subtle intrigue. I could see that he wascongratulating himself upon his cleverness in misleading me, thereforeI chuckled inwardly. 

What I desired most at that moment was to establish the connexionbetween the elegant cosmopolitan Frenchman and Oswald De Gex with hiswily accomplice Moroni. That the latter was a man of criminal instinctI had long ago established. He was a toady to a man of immensewealth--a clever medical man who, by reason of his callousunscrupulousness, was a dealer in Death in its most insidious andleast-looked-for form. The hand of death is ever at the command ofevery medical man, hence mankind has to thank the medicalprofession--one of the hardest-worked and least recognized in theworld--for its honesty, frankness and strict uprightness. In everyprofession we have black sheep--even, alas! in the Church. But happilyunscrupulousness in those who practise medicine in Great Britain ispractically an unknown quantity. 

But in Europe it is different, for in the dossiers held by the policeof Paris, Rome, Madrid and Berlin criminals who practise medicine arewritten largely, as witnessed by the evidence in more than one famoustrial where the accused has been sentenced to death. 

I longed to go to Scotland Yard and tell my story. Yet how could I doso when, in a drawer in my room, there reposed that bundle of Bank ofEngland notes, the price paid to me for being the accomplice of amysterious crime? I could only seek a solution of the enigma alone andunaided by the authorities. I seemed to be making a little headway, yet each fact I established added complications to the amazing affair. 

Further, I must here confess to you that during the past day or two Ihad found myself actually in love with the beautiful girl whosementality had been wilfully destroyed by some means which medicalscience failed to establish. From the first I had been filled withgreat admiration for her. She was indeed very beautiful, withwonderful eyes and a perfect complexion. There was grace in everymovement, save when at times she held herself rigid, with fixed blankeyes as though fascinated, or gripped by some invisible power. Morethan once I had wondered whether she were under hypnotic influence, but that theory had been completely negatived by Sir Charles Wendover. 

Be that as it may, I had now fallen desperately in love with the girlwhom I was seeking to rescue from her enemies. 

Why had the body of Gabrielle Engledue been cremated if not to destroyall evidence of a crime? Gabrielle Tennison still lived; thereforeanother woman must have lost her life by foul means--most probably bypoison--in face of the pains that were taken by Moroni to efface alltrace of the cause of death. 

Over our tea the affable French banker told me of a rapid journey toLiverpool which he had taken a few days before, he having somepressing business with a man who was on the point of sailing for NewYork. The person in question had absconded from Paris owing the bank alarge sum of money, and he had that day cabled to the New York policeasking for his arrest on landing. 

"I shall probably be compelled to go across to America and apply forhim to be sent back to Paris, " my friend said, "so I am going back forinstructions. "

As he spoke I pondered. Was it possible that he was unaware of thesurveillance I had kept upon him during and after his secret interviewwith Gabrielle? If so, why had he entered that dingy house in theEuston Road and made his exit by the back way? I had established thefact that the house was well-known to thieves of a certain class whoused it in order to escape being followed. Several such houses existin London. One is near the Elephant and Castle, another in the ClaphamRoad, while there is one in Hammersmith Road, and still another justoff Clarence Terrace at Regent's Park. Such houses serve assanctuaries for those escaping from justice. The latter know them, andas they slip through they pay a toll, well-knowing that the keeper ofthe house will deny that they have ever been there. 

The "in-and-out" houses of London and their keepers, always slycrooks, form a particular study in themselves. One pretends to be agarage, another a private hotel, a third a small greengrocer's, and afourth a boot repairer's. All those trades are carried on as "blinds. "The public believe them to be honest businesses, but there is farmore business done in concealing those wanted by the police than inanything else. 

From Suzor's demeanour I felt that he did not suspect me of havingbeen witness of his entry into that frowsy house near Euston Station. But why had he gone there? He must have feared that he might bewatched. And why? The only answer to that question was that he had metGabrielle clandestinely and feared lest afterwards he might befollowed. 

But why should he fear if not implicated in the plot?

To me it now seemed plain that I had been marked down as a pawn in thegame prior to that day when we travelled together from York to London. I had not altogether recovered from the effect of what had beenadministered to me. Often I felt a curious sensation of dizziness andof overwhelming depression, which I knew was the after effects of thatloss of all sense of my surroundings when I had been taken to thehospital in St. Malo. I had been found at the roadside in France, justas Gabrielle had been found on the highway near Petersfield. 

When I reflected my blood boiled. 

The affable and highly cultured Frenchman presented a further enigma. He was crossing back to Paris next day. What if I, too, went back toParis and watched his further movements? As I sat chatting andlaughing with him, I decided upon this course. 

When, shortly afterwards, I left, I went straight across HammersmithBridge and found that Harry Hambledon had just returned from hisoffice. 

We sat together at table, whereupon I told him one or two facts I haddiscovered, and urged him to cross to Paris with me next day. 

"You see, you can watch--for you will be a perfect stranger to Suzor. I will bear the expense. I've still got a little money in the bank. Wecan see Suzor off from Charing Cross, then take a taxi to Croydon, flyover, and be in Paris hours before he arrives at the Gare du Nord. There you will wait for his arrival, follow him and see hisdestination. "

Hambledon, who was already much interested in my strange adventures, quickly saw the point. 

"I've got one or two rather urgent things on to-morrow, " he replied. "But if you really wish me to go with you I can telephone to my friendHardy and ask him to look after them for me. We shan't be away verylong, I suppose?"

"A week at the most, " I said. "I want to establish the true identityof this banker friend of mine. I have a distinct suspicion of him. "

"And so have I, " Hambledon said. "Depend upon it, some big conspiracyhas been afoot, and they are now endeavouring to cover up all tracesof their villainy. I was discussing it with Norah when we were walkingin Richmond Park last night. "

"I quite agree, " I replied. "Then we'll fly across to Paris atlunch-time to-morrow, and keep watch upon this man who meets MissTennison in secret and then uses a thieves' sanctuary in order toescape. "

"That story of the absconding customer of the bank is a fiction, Ibelieve, " Harry exclaimed. 

"I'm certain it is, " I said. 

"Then why should he have told it to you if he did not suspect that youhad been watching?" my friend queried. 

I had not considered that point. It was certainly strange, to say theleast, that he should thus have endeavoured to mislead me. 

Next morning Hambledon was up early and went to Charing Cross, wherehe watched the banker's departure. Afterwards he returned, and withour suit-cases we travelled down to the London Terminal Aerodrome atCroydon, where, just before noon, we entered one of the largepassenger aeroplanes which fly between London and Paris. Within halfan hour of our arrival at the aerodrome we were already in the airsailing gaily southward towards Lympne, near Folkestone, where we hadto report previous to crossing the Channel. 

The morning was bright, and although cold the visibility wasexcellent. Below us spread a wide panorama of tiny square fields andsmall clusters of houses that were villages, and larger ones withstraight roads running like ribbons through them, which were towns. 

The dark patches dotting the ground beneath us were woods andcoppices, while running straight beneath was a tiny train upon therailway between Folkestone and London. There were three otherpassengers beside ourselves, apparently French business men, who wereall excitement, it evidently being their first flight. 

Very soon we could see the sea, and presently we could also discernthe French coast. 

As we approached Lympne the observer telephoned by wireless back toCroydon telling them of our position, and in a few moments we werehigh over the Channel. At Marquise, on the other side, we againreported, and then following the railway line we sped towards Parislong before the express, by which the banker was travelling, had leftCalais. 

Indeed, shortly before three o'clock we had installed ourselves at theHôtel Terminus at the Gare St. Lazare, in Paris, and afterwards tooka stroll along the boulevards, awaiting the time when the express fromCalais was due at the Gare du Nord. 

Shortly before half-past five Hambledon left me and took a taxi to thestation for the purpose of watching Suzor's arrival and ascertaininghis destination, which, of course, I feared to do, lest he shouldrecognize me. 

It was not until past nine o'clock that evening that my friendreturned to the hotel. He described how Suzor on arrival at the Garedu Nord had been met by a young English lady, and the pair had drivenstraight to the Rotonde Restaurant at the corner of the BoulevardHaussmann, where they had dined together. 

"I dined near them, and one could see plainly that their conversationwas a very earnest one, " declared my companion. "She seemed to berelating something, and apparently was most apprehensive, while he, onhis part, seemed gravely perplexed. Though he ordered an expensivemeal they scarcely touched it. They sat in a corner and spoke inEnglish, but I could not catch a single word. "

In response to my request he described Suzor's lady friend. 

Then he added: "She wore only one ornament, a beautiful piece ofapple-green jade suspended round her neck by a narrow black ribbon. When they rose and the waiter brought their coats, I heard him callher Dorothy. "

"Dorothy Cullerton!" I gasped. "I recollect that piece of Chinese jadeshe wore in Florence! What is she doing here, meeting that manclandestinely?"

"The man slipped something into her hand beneath the table and she putit into her handbag, " Hambledon said. "I have a suspicion that it wasa small roll of French bank notes. "

"Payment for some information, perhaps, " I said. "I don't trust thatyoung stockbroker's wife. Well?" I asked. "And what then?"

"On leaving the Rotonde they drove to the Rue de Rivoli, where thelady alighted and entered the Hôtel Wagram, while he went along to theHôtel du Louvre, " was his reply. 

I was much puzzled at the secret meeting between the affable Frenchmanand young Mrs. Cullerton, and next day by watching the entrance to theHôtel Wagram, which was an easy matter in the bustle of the Rue deRivoli, I satisfied myself that my surmise was correct, for at eleveno'clock she came forth, entered a taxi, and drove away. 

My next inquiry was at the head office of the Crédit Lyonnais, in theBoulevard des Italiens, but, as I suspected, the name of my Frenchfellow-traveller was unknown. 

"We have no official of the name of Suzor, " replied the politeassistant director whom I had asked to see. "The gentleman must bepretending to be associated with us, monsieur. It is not the firsttime we have heard of such a thing. "

So it was apparent that Suzor was not a bank official after all!

In the meantime Hambledon was keeping watch at the Hôtel du Louvre, and it was not until afternoon that he rejoined me to report what hadoccurred. 

It seemed that Suzor had, just before noon, strolled to the GrandCafé, where he had met a well-dressed man who was awaiting him. Theytook coffee together, and then entering a taxi drove out to the Bois, where at the Pré Catelan they were joined by a smartly dressed youngwoman who was, no doubt, an actress. The three sat talking for aquarter of an hour, after which the two men left her and returned to asmall restaurant in the boulevard St. Martin, where they took their_déjeuner_. Afterwards Suzor had returned to his hotel. 

At my suggestion my companion had become on friendly terms with theunder concierge, who had promised to inform him if Monsieur Suzorshould chance to be leaving. 

It was well that he had arranged this, for when at six o'clockHambledon again went to the hotel the man in uniform told him thatMonsieur Suzor was leaving the Quai d'Orsay at eleven o'clock thatnight by the through express for Madrid. 

I saw that for me to travel to Spain by the same train as the man whohad posed as a banker would be to court exposure. Hence Hambledonvolunteered to travel to the Spanish capital in all secrecy, while Ipromised to join him as soon as he sent me his address. 

That journey was destined to be an adventurous one indeed, as I willduly explain to you, but its results proved more startling andastounding than we ever anticipated. 

CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH

THE GATE OF THE SUN

The spring morning was grey and rather threatening as I left the Hôtelde la Paix in Madrid and walked from the Puerta del Sol past the smartshops in the Carrera de San Jeronimo and across the broad handsomePlaza de Canovas, in order to meet Hambledon at a point which he hadindicated in the Retiro Park. 

Late on the previous night I had arrived in the Spanish capital, andwhile Hambledon was at the Palace Hotel in the Plaza de Canovas I hadgone to the Paix in the Puerta del Sol. I had been in Madrid only oncebefore in my life, and as I walked through the gay thoroughfares Irecalled that proud saying of the Madrileños: "De Madrid al cielo y enel cielo un ventanillo para ver á Madrid" (From Madrid to Heaven, andin Heaven a loophole to look at Madrid). The Spanish capital to-day isindeed a very fine city, full of life, of movement, and of post-warprosperity. 

Crossing the Prado, where the trees were already in full leaf, I tookthat straight broad way which led past the Royal Academy, and againcrossing the Calle de Alfonso XII came to the Alcahofa fountain, theFountain of the Artichoke, near which I waited for the coming of myfriend. 

I stood there upon ground that was historic, and as I gazed aroundupon that sylvan scene, I wondered what would be the result of ourlong journey from Rivermead Mansions. That beautiful park which, inthe seventeenth century, had been laid out with such taste by theConde-Duque de Olivares, the favourite of Philip IV, had been thescene of innumerable festivals which swallowed millions of money, andgave rise to many biting "pasquinas" and "coplas. " To-day it is theHyde Park of Spanish Society. There all the latest Paris fashions areseen at the hour of the promenade, and everybody who is anybody inSpain must be seen walking or riding along its picturesque paths. 

I had not long to wait for Hambledon, for after a few moments hisfamiliar sturdy figure came into sight. 

"Well, Hughie!" he exclaimed, as we sank upon a seat together. "There's some deep game being played here, I'm certain!"

"What game?" I asked quickly. 

"Ah! I can't yet make it out, " he replied. "But I'll tell you what'soccurred. Suzor, on arrival, went to the Ritz, where he has a privatesuite, and after I had watched him safely there I took up my quartersat the Palace on the other side of the Square, and started to keep awatch upon our friend. I got the concierge at the Ritz to do somethingfor me for which I paid him generously, so as to pave the way forinformation concerning Suzor, in case we may want it. "

"Good, " I said. "There's nothing like making friends with a concierge. He knows everything about the visitors to his hotel, and about theirfriends also. "

"Well, on the first day Suzor did not go out at all. But on the secondmorning at about eleven o'clock, he came forth very smartly dressed, and strolling along the Calle de Alcalá turned into the Gran Caféwhere an elderly lady dressed in black was awaiting him. She wasSpanish, without a doubt. He greeted her with studied courtesy andthen sat down opposite her at the little table and ordered_apératifs_. They conversed together in low, earnest tones. She seemedto be questioning him, while he gave rather hesitating replies. Itseemed to me that he had come to Madrid in order to meet her. Therefore when after about half an hour they parted, I followed thelady. She took a cab and drove to the North Station, where she took aticket for Segovia which I found was about sixty miles from here. I, of course, entered another compartment of the train and in about threehours we reached our destination. At the station she was met by ahandsome young girl, who began to ply her with questions to which theelder woman replied in monosyllables as the pair ascended the prettytree-lined boulevard that led into the picturesque town perched as itis upon a rock between two streams. Half-way up the Passeo, just priorto entering the ancient city so full of antiquities, the two ladieswent in the gates of a large white house, evidently the residence ofsomeone of importance. Unseen, I watched the door as it was opened bya man-servant who bowed to them as he admitted them. Afterwards Ipassed into that most venerable city of Castile where I found a hotelcalled the Europeo, where I ordered a meal. The waiter spoke brokenEnglish, and when I described the big white house in the PasseoEzequiel González and inquired who lived there he replied that it wasthe Condesa de Chamartin with her niece Señorita Carmen Florez. TheCountess was the widow of an immensely wealthy Spaniard who had diedleaving most of his money away from his wife. There were rumoursafloat both in Segovia and in Madrid--where he had had a finehouse--that the widow was now in quite poor circumstances. Yet theConde de Chamartin had been one of the richest men in Spain. Then Icame back and telegraphed to you in Paris. "

"What has Suzor done since?"

"Practically nothing. He hardly ever goes out in the daytime, whichshows me that he is no stranger in Madrid. Yet almost every eveningafter dinner he goes alone to one or other of the theatres, or to thevariety show at the Trianon. Last night he was at _Il Trovatore_, atthe Teatro Real. "

"Alone?"

"Always alone. "

"Then why has he come here, to Madrid?" I queried. 

"In order to meet the Condesa de Chamartin. "

"But he has already met her. She came from Segovia to keep thatappointment, hence one would think he would have returned to Paris bythis time. "

"We can only watch, " Hambledon replied. "I will continue mysurveillance, but you had better be seen about as little as possible. He might meet and recognize you. Should I discover anything, or shouldI want to see you, I will either telephone to you at your hotel, or wewill meet again--at this spot. "

Thus it was arranged, and half an hour later we parted. 

I walked back to my hotel, my thoughts occupied by the beautiful girlwho had suddenly so possessed me. Before me, by day and by night, rosevisions of the lovely countenance of that strange, half-bewilderedexpression which was so pathetic and so mysterious. I recollected hersweet smiles when we had talked in her mother's drawing-room inLongridge Road, and I knew that my admiration had already ripened intolove. 

But it was all so mysterious, so incredible indeed, that I hardlydared reflect upon those amazing events of the immediate past. 

The name of the great financier, De Gex, was one to conjure with allover Europe. Since my night's adventure in Stretton Street I hadlearnt much concerning him. His nationality was obscure. He posed asan Englishman, but at the same time he was a Frenchman, an Italian, and a Greek. His financial tentacles were spread throughout Europe. Fabulously wealthy, he held a controlling interest in a number ofbanks and great industrial concerns, and it was said that he knew thecapitals of the world as a milkman knows the streets of his particularsuburb. 

Behind the smoke-clouds of great events his intriguing figure followedunseen, unheralded, influencing dynasties through his secretaries andagents--one of whom was Prime Minister of a foreign kingdom--andfinancing bankrupt states. 

Now and then he emerged from the retirement of the Villa Clementiniand would go to Paris, Brussels, or Rome, and there entertain mostlavishly Ministers and aristocrats of various nations, and frequentlygive them presents at the dinner-table. 

One man declared to me that Oswald De Gex was the friend of mightypersons and the moulder of mighty events. He was a man of mystery whoquietly and in secret juggled the destinies of nations in his gildedfingers. Wherever money has the power to speak there Oswald De Gexwould be found smiling an inscrutable mysterious smile, but always thecentre of intrigue and adventure. 

To outwit and expose such a man I was determined. 

Back in the hotel I stood at the window of my room, gazing out acrossthe busy plaza upon the fine Ministerio de la Gobernacion, with itsgreat clock upon the façade. The Gateway of the Rising Sun is ever ascene of animation, and the more so on a "fiesta, " which it happenedto be that day. 

I stood there looking blankly out upon the centre of Madrid life. Itwas irksome to be compelled to remain in the hotel during the daytimefor fear of recognition by the man Suzor. Why had he held that secretmeeting with the widow of the wealthy Count Chamartin? Hambledon hadcertainly acted with discretion and promptitude in following the ladyin black to her home in Segovia. Could the Frenchman's visit to Madridbe in any way connected with the affair at Stretton Street?

A new and highly interesting feature had arisen in the fact which Ihad only recently discovered, that Suzor had apparently travelled withme from York to London on that well-remembered afternoon with some setand distinct purpose. He had been most affable, and he had told me allabout himself--a story which I now knew to be fictitious. In return, Isuppose I had told him something about myself, but the exactconversation had long ago escaped my memory. 

I had had no suspicion that the man who had posed as an importantofficial of one of the best known of French banking corporations wasin any way associated with the mysterious Oswald De Gex, until I hadseen him meet in secret the girl with whom I had fallen so violentlyin love. 

I tried to analyse my feelings towards Gabrielle Tennison, but failedutterly. I loved her, and loving her so well, I now set my whole soulupon elucidating the mystery. 

Truly, the problem was most puzzling, presenting further complicationsat every turn. 

Through the day I idled about the big hotel, occupying my time inwriting letters and reading the papers. The café below in the lateafternoon was crowded, for on the day of a fiesta Madrid is alwaysagog with life and movement. 

When night fell and I ate my solitary dinner in the big restaurant, where I specially ordered an _olla_ with _garbanoz_, a dish so dear tothe Spanish palate and which cannot be procured beyond the confines ofKing Alfonso's kingdom. The waiter aided me, of course, and he smiledcontentedly when I gave him his _propina_. 

Around me there dined as smart a set of people as those who frequentedthe Carlton in London, and perhaps the toilettes were even moreelaborate. In certain feminine details the West End can be eclipsedboth by modern Madrid and Bucharest, while Paris remains where she hasever been, the inventor of feminine fashion and the alluring City ofLight. 

In Madrid to-day one has all the pre-war prosperity combined withpost-war extravagance. The latest _mode_ of the Rue de la Paix is seenat the Ritz in Madrid almost before it is seen at Armenonville, and itbecomes only second-hand when it has filtered through Dover Street--or"Petticoat Lane, " as that thoroughfare is termed by truculent Londonbachelors. 

After dinner I spent an hour at the gay Café Iberia, in the Carrera deSan Jeronimo, and returned early to the hotel. 

As I entered the concierge met me with a note. It was from HarryHambledon, written an hour before, urging me to meet him at the GatoNegro Café (The Black Cat), in the Calle del Principe. 

I lost no time in keeping the appointment, and on meeting my friend, he whispered excitedly:

"Suzor has a visitor. He arrived at the Ritz at six o'clock, and theyhave dined together. He is a well-dressed man of between forty andfifty, rather sallow-faced, and has given his name at the hotel asHenri Thibon, rentier, of Bordeaux. "

"Aged nearly fifty--sallow?" I echoed. "Are his features of a ratherOriental cast--a dark, handsome man with deep-set eyes and a dimple inthe centre of his chin?" I asked eagerly. 

"Yes. That just describes him. "

"De Gex!" I gasped. "Then he is here!"

"After dinner they went out to the Trianon. They are there now. "

"Then we will watch them return to the Ritz, " I said. 

We spent an hour together in the café, after which we rose and walkedthrough the well-lit streets and along beneath the trees of the Pradountil we came to the great plaza where, opposite the Neptune fountain, the fine hotel stands back behind its gardens. 

We both halted against the colossal fountain, the waters of which wereplashing into the great basin, and found that from where we werestanding we had a good view of the entrance to the hotel. That thetheatres were over was proved by the number of cars and taxis thatwere depositing people in evening-dress who had come to the Ritz tosupper. Hence we had not long to wait before we distinguished Suzorand his companion, both in dinner-jackets, strolling on foot acrossthe Plaza from the Calle de Cervantes in the direction of the hotel. 

In an instant I recognized the form of the mysterious owner of thehouse in Stretton Street. 

"Yes!" I cried. "I'm not mistaken! But why is he here under the nameof Thibon? Without a doubt he is known in Madrid. Why should he seekto conceal his identity?"

"We are here to discover the motive of his journey from Italy. According to his passport he arrived from Irun. But if he had comedirect from Italy he would have come from the south--from Barcelona, most probably. "

"He has a house in Paris. No doubt he has followed his friend Suzorfrom there. It will be interesting to watch. "

As I spoke the pair passed up the steps of the hotel and were lost tosight, therefore we turned and retraced our steps along the wideCarrera de San Jeronimo to my hotel where, for an hour, Hambledon satin my room discussing the situation. 

He suggested that he should move from the Palace Hotel to the Ritz, which was only just opposite. At first it seemed a good idea, but onreflection I did not agree, because I feared lest he might berecognized by Suzor. De Gex, of course, would not know him, but withSuzor the danger of recognition was always great. If either realizedthat they were being watched, all chances of solving the problem wouldinstantly disappear. Only by secret and patient watchfulness could wediscover the motive of that amazing affair near Park Lane, and againthe truth of what actually occurred on that fateful November night. 

"There is no doubt some further devil's game is in progress here, " Ideclared, as Harry sat upon my bed smoking a cigarette, while I wasstretched in an easy-chair. "And it is up to us to discover what itis, and whether it has any bearing upon the plot against poorGabrielle Tennison. "

"Yes, " agreed Hambledon. "We must watch all their actions, for it isnow evident that this fellow Suzor is deeply implicated in theconspiracy, whatever its nature. "

CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH

THE INTRUDER

During the next few days I remained idle in the hotel, not daring togo out while it was light, and leaving the surveillance upon De Gexand his friend to my old friend Hambledon. 

Each night we met at one café or another as we appointed, whenhe would report to me what he had witnessed during the day. Itseemed that De Gex--or Monsieur Thibon, as he preferred to callhimself--shared Suzor's private sitting-room and, curiously enough, he also did not go out in the daytime!

After all, that was not surprising, for such a great figure ininternational finance was probably well-known in the Spanish capital. I had learnt that he had had a hand in the finances of Spain, and hadmade some huge profits thereby. This man of mystery and intrigue was, I felt, there in Madrid with some malice aforethought. The very factthat he feared to be recognized was in itself sufficient proof! On theother hand, Suzor now went out in the daytime, going hither andthither as though transacting business for his friend. Hambledon hadreported to me how he had sent three cipher telegrams by wireless fromthe Correo Central in the Calle Carretas, the first was to London, thesecond on the following noon to an address in Paris, and the third atone o'clock in the morning to Moroni in Florence. The message to thelatter was in figures, groups of five numerals as used by the BritishAdmiralty. Besides, he had also posted several letters in that big boxat the chief post-office marked "Extranjero. "

The message to Moroni was highly suspicious. Harry Hambledon, as asolicitor, was, of course, a very acute person, and in addition he hadvery fortunately entered into the true spirit of the adventure. Thoughhe longed to be back again at Richmond with his pretty _fiancée_, Norah Peyton, yet the mystery of the whole affair had bewildered him, and he was as keen as I was myself in elucidating the strange enigma. 

Moroni was no doubt a tool in the hands of that quiet, sallow-facedman who, by reason of his colossal wealth and huge financialresources, could even make and unmake dynasties. Oswald De Gex, theman who without nationality or patriotism pulled a hundred financialstrings both in Europe and in America, held the sinister Doctor Moroniin his pay. I could discern that fact, just as I could see that theman Suzor, who had so cleverly posed as an official of the CréditLyonnais, was one of the many confidential agents of the mysterious DeGex. 

One evening I went, by appointment, to the Nuevo Club, to which I hadbeen admitted as a foreign member, and in the smoking-room I awaitedHambledon. 

At last he came through the big swing doors, and approaching me, excitedly exclaimed:

"They've both gone out to Segovia to see the Countess de Chamartin. DeGex sent a wire early this morning and then, on receipt of a reply, they hired a car and drove out to keep the appointment. "

"Chamartin was a Spanish financier. De Gex is one of internationalfame--a millionaire, " I remarked. "The wits of De Gex are perhapspitted against the widow and the executors of the dead man. Don't youagree?"

"Entirely, " was Hambledon's reply. "I follow the trend of yourthoughts, Hugh. De Gex is the controlling influence of great events, but why should he seek to send you into an asylum for the insane?"

"With the same motive that he endeavoured to send into such an asylumpoor Gabrielle Tennison, " I said bitterly. 

"In law we have an old adage which says 'discover the motive and youalso discover the miscreant, '" Harry remarked. 

I agreed, and, as much bewildered as he, exclaimed:

"Well, as far as we can discern there is something very underhand inthis meeting. But the count's widow is a cheery, easy-going person, despite her mournful black, and perhaps, after all, we may be upon awrong scent. "

"Exactly. De Gex may be attracted by her handsome niece, the SeñoritaCarmen Florez--eh?"

"He may. But as the dead count was a great financier, Oswald De Gexmay be working in the interests of the widow--or to the contrary. "

"To the contrary, " said my friend without hesitation. 

Next morning Hambledon told me that De Gex and Suzor did not return tothe Ritz until nearly one o'clock. Apparently they had dined and spentthe evening in Segovia. On that same day at noon, my curiosityaroused, I took train to the old-world town with its wonderfulcathedral, the Alcazar, and the aqueduct built by Augustus, thelargest piece of Roman work extant in Spain, rivalling as it does thewalls of Tarragona. 

Without difficulty I discovered the fine country house of the Countessde Chamartin situated high up on the broad tree-lined Paseo. She hadnever seen me, therefore I had no hesitation in idling in thevicinity, in order to catch sight of her or her niece, theirdescriptions having been given to me by my friend Hambledon. Till itwas growing dark I waited in vain, when suddenly I had a very narrowescape. A big dusty grey limousine came rapidly up the hill and haltedclose to where I was standing. From it there alighted Gaston Suzor, who without hesitation entered the big iron gates and disappeared intothe garden. 

Fortunately he was in such haste, and so preoccupied that he did notnotice me, hence I crossed the road and hid behind a half-ruined wall, where I had a good view of the car. 

About twenty minutes later he emerged again, and with him was a younggirl wearing a small toque and a rich sable coat. No second glance wasneeded to realize that it was the Señorita Carmen Florez, niece of thecountess. The elegant Frenchman held the door open politely for her, and after she had entered he got in beside her, whereupon the carturned and went down the hill and out of sight. 

It occurred to me that Suzor had come from Madrid to fetch her, andthat surmise later proved to be correct, for on returning to thecapital at ten o'clock Hambledon called at the Hôtel de la Paix, andas we sat upstairs in my bedroom he informed me that the young girlhad arrived by car at the Ritz and had dined with De Gex and hiscompanion. The countess, who had apparently been in Madrid since themorning, and who had attended a charity _matinée_ at the Comedia, hadarrived at the Ritz a quarter of an hour before her niece. It wasevident, therefore, that they were well known to De Gex, who, as Iafterwards ascertained, had been a friend of the late count. 

The four had dined privately together in Suzor's sitting-room, andaccording to the information given to Hambledon by the concierge, anumber of papers had been produced and examined immediately after thecoffee had been served. 

"I understand that the production of the papers had a most disturbingeffect upon the countess, " Hambledon told me. "She gave vent to a cryof amazement, and afterwards burst into a fit of tears. At least thatis what the waiter told the concierge. The countess is very well knownat the Ritz, for she moves in the Court circle, and is often at thesmart functions so constantly held there. "

"And the niece?" I asked. "She is certainly both smart andgood-looking. "

"I can discover but little concerning her, " Harry replied. "She is notknown at all. She has apparently only gone to live with her aunt atSegovia since the count's death. "

"I wonder what was in the papers which so affected the lady?" Iremarked. "De Gex evidently invited them to dinner in order to makesome disclosure, and to prove it by the production of documents. "

"Evidently, " replied my companion. "In any case, the countess and herniece have just started to return for home, the widow being very upsetat what has been revealed to her to-night. "

"What can it have been, I wonder? Could not the waiter ascertain thenature of the disclosure?"

"No. I saw him myself afterwards, and he explained that the documentsin question were produced just after he had left the room. He heardthe countess utter a cry of dismay, and when he again entered the roomin pretence of clearing away the coffee-cups, he found the lady intears, while her niece declared hotly in French: 'I do not believe it!I will never believe it!' A number of legal documents were spread outupon the table, and De Gex was holding one of them in his hand. "

"Then the object of the visit of the precious pair seems to have beento disclose some hitherto well-guarded secret to the widow of theSpanish financier--eh?"

"Yes, " my friend agreed. "It certainly seems so, " and then he rose andleft. Downstairs in the palm court the gay crowd was pouring throughto the restaurant for supper after the theatre, for smart Madrid isgay at night, and there is as much dancing and fun there, on a smallerscale of course, as there is in the West End. The pretty dresses, thelaughter, the sibilant whispers, and the claw-hammer coat are the samein Madrid and Bucharest as in London or Paris, or any other capital. The hour of midnight is the same hour of relaxation when even judgessmile after their day upon the bench, and the blue-stocking will laughat a risky story. 

So after Harry had gone, refusing to have supper with me lest somebodyshould notice us together, I strolled about, and selecting a table inthe corner, ate my solitary meal, having had no dinner that day. 

It was past midnight before I ascended in the lift to my room. Iundressed and when in bed I read the _Heraldo_ until I suppose Idropped off to sleep. 

I knew nothing until later I was awakened by some slight movement. Inan instant I was seized by a strange intuition of danger, and my witsbecame acute. Next second I was on the alert. There had been threelights burning when I retired, now there was but one. I had bolted mydoor, yet it was now slightly ajar!

I lay and listened. Outside I heard the hum of a car receding acrossthe great square. Afterwards a church bell began to clangdiscordantly, as they all do in Spain. 

The light was over the dressing-table in the corner, and so shadedthat the room was quite dim. 

Someone had been in my room! I grasped my automatic pistol which Ikept under the pillow, and jumping out of bed crossed to thedressing-table where I had put my watch and bank-note-case on takingthem from my pocket. As I did so I heard the click of an electriclight switch, and next instant the room was in darkness. 

For a second I was nonplussed. I knew, however, that I was not alonein the room, so I dashed across to the door, my pistol in my hand, andgaining it before the intruder could escape, turned on the lights. 

Before me stood revealed a tall, thin-faced, dark-haired man in hisshirt and trousers who, seeing my pistol, at once put up his hands, crying in Spanish:

"Ah! no--no! It is a mistake. Holy Madonna! I have mistaken the room!I thought my friend Pedro was here! A thousand apologies, señor! Athousand apologies. "

"But my door was bolted! How did you get in?" I demanded fiercely. 

"No, señor. It was not bolted. I have been taken very unwell. I wasseeking my friend Pedro, " he stammered, pale and frightened. "Come tomy room, and I will show you my papers to prove that I am no thief, but a well-known advocate of Burgos. "

I told him roughly to turn his face to the wall while I went throughmy belongings to satisfy myself that nothing had been stolen. 

All seemed in order, and the fellow's explanation seemed to be quitefeasible--save for the fact that I distinctly remembered bolting thedoor. Nevertheless I began to wonder whether I had not misjudged him. 

"Come along to my room, señor, " he urged. "I will show you myidentity papers. I have to offer you a thousand apologies. "

I followed him to a room near the end of the corridor, where hequickly produced documents and papers showing that his name was JuanSalavera, an advocate, who lived in the Calle de Vittoria, in Burgos. He showed me the portrait of his wife and child which he carried inhis wallet and a small painted miniature of his mother, and otherproofs of his integrity, including a case well filled with notes. 

"I trust, señor, that you will no longer accuse me of being a thief!"he said. "Our encounter would have been distinctly amusing had we notso frightened each other as we have done. "

I laughed, for I felt convinced that he was a respectable person, andI really began to feel uncomfortable. 

Indeed, I muttered an apology for my rather rough behaviour, and atthe same time I noticed upon the left side of his neck a deep scarprobably left by an abscess. 

"My dear señor, it was quite forgiveable in the circumstances, " hedeclared, offering me a cigarette and taking one himself. "I hadsupper at a restaurant after the theatre to-night and ate somethingwhich had disagreed with me. Half an hour ago I felt faint, so I roseand went to find my friend Pedro Espada, who came with me from Burgos, and I entered your room in mistake. He must be in the room nextyours. "

"Shall we seek him?" I asked. 

"No. I feel much better now, thanks, " was his reply. "The fright haschased away all faintness! Besides, we should have to go down to theoffice and ascertain in which room he really is. I shall be all rightnow, " he assured me. 

He went on to say that he had come to Madrid in connexion with alarge estate in Granada, to which a client of his had laid claim. 

"I shall be here for a week at least, therefore I hope you will giveme the pleasure of spending an evening with Pedro and myself. We willdine at a restaurant and go to one of the variety theatresafterwards. "

I thanked him, and laughing at our encounter we parted quite goodfriends. 

On returning to my room I examined the bolt, and found that the screwsof the brass socket had been forced from the woodwork and it was lyingon the floor. 

That fact caused suspicion to again arise in my mind. Surelyconsiderable force must have been used to break away the socket fromthe woodwork. Yet I had heard nothing!

However, I returned to bed, and leaving the lights on I reflected uponthe strange episode. The fellow's excuse was quite a legitimate one, yet I could not put from myself the fact that the door had beenforced. By whom, if not by him?

And yet he was so cool it seemed impossible that he was a thief whom Ihad caught red-handed. 

After half an hour I rose again and thoroughly examined the bolt, whenmy suspicion was increased by a strange discovery. In my absence thesocket of the bolt had been removed, the screw holes enlarged andfilled up with bread kneaded into a paste; into this the screws hadbeen placed so that although I had bolted the door I could not secureit, for the smallest pressure from outside would break the fasteningfrom the woodwork!

The dodge was one often practised by hotel thieves. But what proof hadI that the lawyer from Burgos had prepared that bolt? I had no meansof knowing when the screws had been rendered unstable, or by whom. Itmight have been done even before I had occupied that room, for thepaste was hard and crumbling. 

Nevertheless the fact remained that my door had been prepared for amidnight theft, and I had found a stranger in my room. So with aresolve to make further inquiry next morning, I threw myself down andslept. 

I must have been tired and overwrought, for it was past nine o'clockwhen I awoke and drew up the blinds. 

Then as I crossed to ring the bell for my coffee and hot water I madea very curious discovery. 

CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH

ANOTHER STRANGE DISCLOSURE

On the ground, close to my bed, were three brass-headed carpet pinswhich had apparently spilt accidentally out of a box. 

The sharp point of each was upturned, and it was a marvel that duringthe night I had not stepped upon them. 

How had they come there? Was it by accident or design that they werebeside my bed?

At first I wondered whether the hotel upholsterer had been at work onthe previous day and had left them behind. He might have used them forpinning down my carpet. 

I took one up and examined it. Next second I stood aghast. 

The others I also took up, handling them very gingerly, for around thepoints of each was some colourless transparent substance which lookedlike vaseline. Such a substance was not ordinarily upon the points ofcarpet pins. 

A horrible thought flashed across my mind. Therefore I carefullyplaced the three pins upon the small glass tray upon thedressing-table, and dressed as quickly as I could, reflectingthe while upon my adventure with the stranger whom I had takento be a thief. 

I shaved, swallowed the coffee which the young waiter brought me, andat once descended to the bureau; when in French I inquired of theclerk for Señor Salavera. He examined the register and repliedpolitely:

"We have no one of that name staying here, señor. "

"What?" I cried. "He was in Room 175 last night!"

"Number 175 was Señor Solier, " replied the smart young clerk. "He paidhis bill and left just after seven o'clock this morning. "

"But I saw his identification papers--his passport--letters addressedto him as Señor Salavera!"

"That may be so, señor, " was the suave reply. "But he registered hereas Señor Solier. " And then he dropped into English, which he spokevery fairly. "Of course people who stay at hotels do not always givetheir correct names. They do not wish them published in visitors'lists in the newspapers. Perhaps it is only natural, " and he smiled. 

"Have you any one named Pedro Espada in the hotel?" I inquired. 

Again he consulted his register, but shook his head. 

"Nobody of that name, " he replied. 

I hesitated. Then I asked:

"Did the gentleman who spent the night in Room 175 depart alone?"

The reception-clerk called the uniformed concierge, and asked:

"Did Number 175 leave alone?"

"Yes, " was the reply. "He caught the early express for Zaragoza. Hewas going on to Barcelona, he told me. He went in the omnibus. "

"No one with him?"

"Nobody. "

"When did he arrive?" I asked. 

"The night before last. He was alone--with only a handbag. I chargedhim with a deposit for his room. "

"Have you ever seen him before?" I asked. 

"Never to my recollection. "

"Neither have I, " remarked the concierge. "He seemed very afraid ofbeing seen. I noticed him in the lounge last night. He left thismorning quite suddenly, and without taking anything--even a cup ofcoffee. "

"He left in a violent hurry--eh?" I exclaimed, well knowing thereason. "Well, " I added, "I wish to see the manager. "

"I will inform him, " the clerk replied, and he went to the telephone. A minute later, after exchanging a few words in Spanish, he turned tome, saying:

"You will find the manager's office on the first floor. If you takethe lift the man will direct you, señor. "

A few minutes later I was seated in the office of an elderlybald-headed man, a typical _hôtelier_, courteous, smiling, and eagerto hear any complaint that I might have to make. 

At once I told him of my curious adventure of the previous night, andof the sudden flight of the mysterious stranger whom I had discoveredin my room. 

"That is certainly strange, sir, " he replied in English. "His excusewas a very ingenious one, to say the least. I think we ought to informthe police. Do you not agree?"

I told him of my discovery of the carpet pins, and asked his advice asto whom I might send them for chemical analysis. 

At once he suggested Professor Vega, of the Princesa Hospital in theCalle Alberto Aguilera, adding:

"The Professor often dines here. If you wish, I will take you to him. "

So still leaving the three carpet pins upon the little glass tray Iwrapped it in paper and together we went round to the hospital, whereI was introduced to a tall, narrow-faced, grey-haired man in a longlinen coat. To him I explained how I had found the pins on the carpetbeside my bed, and asking whether he would submit them to examination. 

He looked at them critically, first with the naked eye and afterwardsby means of a large reading-glass. Then he grunted in dissatisfactionand promised that next day, or the day after, he would tell me theresult of his analysis. 

As we drove back to the hotel the manager remarked:

"It is a very curious affair, sir, to say the least. One does notscatter carpet pins about a bedroom, and particularly when the pointsare smeared with some mysterious substance. If they had been therebefore you retired to bed the chambermaid must certainly have seenthem. She makes a round of the rooms each night at ten o'clock. Besides, the facts that the bolt had been tampered with, and also thatthe man who occupied 175 left so early and so hurriedly, areadditionally suspicious. Yes, " he added, "I think we ought to see thepolice. "

With that object he took me at once to Señor Andrade, the Chief ofPolice, a short, stout, alert little man, who heard me with keeninterest and seemed very puzzled. 

"The intruder's explanation was certainly a very clever one, " heremarked in French. "It is a pity you did not demand to see hisfriend, Pedro Espada. If you had, you would have discovered him to benonexistent. "

"But he was so clever, " I answered. "He told me that at that hour hecould not discover in which room his friend was really sleeping. "

"But the night-porter was on duty, " exclaimed the hotel manager. "Hehad the register and would have been able at once to tell you thenumber of the room. "

The fellow seemed so frank in revealing to me his money, theportraits of his family, and his private letters, that I had taken hisstatement as the truth. 

Yet, even now, I could not believe that he had any sinisterdesign--not until the Professor had examined those three carpet pins. 

In response to close questions put to me by Señor Andrade, with whomwas Señor Rivero, the head of the Detective Branch, I gave adescription of my midnight visitor as accurately as I could. I toldthem how I had covered him with my automatic pistol, and howafterwards we had laughed together at our mental fear of each other. 

Señor Rivero, the bald-headed, black-bearded chief of the branch ofcriminal investigation, suddenly stopped me when I mentioned the scarupon the neck of the advocate from Burgos. 

"Did you notice that there was any deformity of his hands?" he askedquickly. 

In an instant I recollected that the little finger of his right handhad been amputated at the first joint, and I told him so. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the shrewd, dark-bearded official. "Perhaps we mayhere find something of interest. Just a few moments, " and he rose andleft us. 

We chatted with Señor Andrade for about a quarter of an hour when thedetective returned with a bundle of papers and four photographs of aman taken in police style upon one negative, full face, three-quarter, half and profile. 

The instant he placed it before me, I exclaimed:

"Why, that is Salavera!"

"I thought as much, " remarked the famous detective with a grim smile. "He is not Salavera, but Rodriquez Despujol, one of the most dangerouscriminals in Spain!"

"Despujol!" cried Señor Andrade. "And he was in Madrid last night!"Then he added: "Ah! if we had but known. "

"True. But why was he in the English gentleman's room?" queried thedetective. "He is a dangerous character, and one would have thoughtthat instead of being covered he would, on being cornered, have drawnhis knife and attacked his adversary. "

"Despujol is no amateur, " the Chief of Police agreed. "We've wantedhim for the last five years for the assassination of the banker, Monteros, in the train between Cordova and Malaga, and yet he alwaysevades us, even though he is one of the most audacious thieves inEurope. "

"But his friend Pedro?" I remarked, startled at what I had nowlearned. 

"He does not exist, " replied the detective. "You no doubt had a luckyescape. Had you demanded to see his friend he would no doubt havekilled you. He is a man of colossal strength--a veritable tiger, theysay. "

"But what was the motive?" I asked. "I have no valuables, save mywatch and tie pin, and fifty pounds in English money. Surely it wasnot worth while to kill me for that!"

"No. That's just it, " replied the dark-eyed detective, whose chagrinwas so apparent that Despujol had slipped through his fingers. "Thegame was not worth the candle. So he returned after proving to you hisbona fides. And these bona fides he always carries in order toextricate himself from any ugly situation. "

"But the carpet pins?" asked the hotel manager. 

The director of the Spanish secret police shrugged his shoulders, andsaid:

"Until Professor Vega can make a report we can do nothing. It is nouse basing theories upon mere surmises. So we can only wait for SeñorVega to tell us what he discovers. Meanwhile, we will try and secureDespujol--though I fear he has too long a start of us. "

He crossed the room to the telephone, and a few minutes later spoke inSpanish into the instrument in sharp, authoritative tones. 

I understood him to be speaking to the police commissary at Zaragoza, explaining that the much-wanted criminal Despujol had left Madrid forthat city, and giving the train by which he was supposed to betravelling. Then, in turn, he spoke to the commissaries of Alcazar, Salamanca, Valladolid and Arroyo, thus informing the police along allthe lines of railway leading from the capital. 

It was evident that what I had told them caused considerableexcitement. Indeed, after the head of the detective department hadconcluded giving his instructions over the telephone, he turned to meand translated into French the black record of the stranger whom I haddiscovered in my room. 

That he was a bold and audacious criminal was quickly apparent. In theSud express travelling between Madrid and Paris he had drugged androbbed an Italian jeweller of a wallet containing a quantity ofdiamonds, which he took to London at once and disposed of to areceiver of stolen property at Kilburn. 

Another of his daring exploits was the theft of the famous Murillofrom the Castle of Setefillas, near Seville. This he sold to a dealerin Brussels, who afterwards smuggled it to New York, where it wasbought by a private collector for a very large sum. 

Yet again, a few months later he enticed a bank messenger in Barcelonainto a house he had taken for the purpose, and having knocked himdown robbed him of his wallet containing a quantity of English banknotes and negotiable securities. 

Up to five years before he had been convicted many times, but he nowseemed to be able to commit robberies with impunity, and always getoff free. It was believed that he lived in secret somewhere abroad andonly came to Spain to commit thefts. Probably he passed to and fro toFrance by one of the obscure mountain tracks through the Pyreneesknown only to those who dealt in contraband--and there are many inthat chain of mountains. 

In any case the police were now hot again upon his track. 

Suddenly the head of the Detective Department had another inspirationand rang up both Jaca and Pamplona, which are at the end of eachrailway line towards the barrier of mountains which form the Frenchfrontier. 

"If he is on his way to France he will go to either one place or theother, " he said. 

"But have they his photograph?" I asked. 

"A copy of this photograph taken at the prison of Barcelona, is inevery detective office in Spain, " was his reply. "Rodriquez Despujolis the most dangerous and elusive criminal at large, " he went on. "Henever leaves anything to chance. No doubt he believed that you were inpossession of something valuable, and his intention was to drug youand get it. But you were too quick for him. My chief surprise is why, when he found himself cornered as he was, that he did not draw hisknife and attack you. "

"But I had a pistol!" I said. 

"Despujol does not fear pistols. Before you could pull the trigger hecould have pounced upon you like a cat!" replied the police official. 

"Well, he certainly entirely misled me, " I exclaimed. "I even offeredhim an apology for my attitude towards him. "

The three men laughed heartily. 

"An apology to Despujol!" cried the Chief of Police. "How veryamusing!"

"I consider that I was very lucky, " I said. "He seems to be a mostdesperate character. "

"He is, " answered Señor Andrade. "We have had inquiries for him fromall over Europe. During the war it seems that he served as a spy ofGermany in France, hence the military authorities there are veryanxious to get him. "

"But you think he lives in France and crosses the frontier every nowand then. "

"Yes. We received information to that effect about a year ago. Heprobably lives as a poor, but perfectly honest man in one of theremote villages in the Pyrenees, and is perhaps held in high esteem byall around him. It was the case of the notorious Maurice Tricoche whoescaped us for years and lived near Luchon until he was betrayed by awoman whose husband he had maltreated. Perhaps Despujol will also bebetrayed. We hope so!"

"I cannot understand why the fellow dared to put foot into Madrid whenhe knows how active we are in search of him, " remarked Señor Rivero, turning to me. "He must have followed you with evil intent. Theexplanation of mistaking your room was, of course, a good one, butentirely false. "

I longed to tell the police all about the mystery of Stretton Street, and the grave suspicions concerning the great international financierwho was at that moment at the Ritz. Yet I hesitated for two reasons, the first being that I feared lest my story should be disbelieved, and secondly, because I had, on behalf of the beautiful girl withwhom I had fallen in love, set out to solve the enigma by myself, andbring the culprit to justice. 

"If Despujol is arrested I will willingly come forward and giveevidence--that is, if I am still in Spain, " I promised. 

But both police officials shrugged their shoulders, and the detectiveremarked:

"Despujol is a will o' the wisp. There seems little hope of our eversecuring him. Nevertheless we shall continue to do our best to allowyou to face him again one day. And then, señor, you will realize whata miraculous escape you have had!"

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH

WHAT THE PROFESSOR FOUND

When I met my friend Hambledon in secret at two o'clock that day underthe trees at a spot in the Retiro, not far from the great Plaza de laIndependencia, we sat down and I described to him my strange midnightadventure. 

He listened in amazement, which was increased when I told him how thepolice had recognized in the inoffensive lawyer of Burgos thenotorious bandit Despujol, who was wanted not only by Scotland Yard, but by the police of Europe. 

"But those carpet pins are a curious feature of the affair, Hughie, "he remarked. 

"Yes. The police seem to attach no importance to them--but I do. "

"So do I. The opinion of Professor Vega may throw some light upon theaffair. "

"I shall call at the Princesa Hospital to-morrow, " I said, and then Iinquired the latest information concerning De Gex and his Frenchfriend. 

There was little to report. De Gex had not been out of the hotel, though Suzor had gone to purchase some cigars at eleven o'clock thatmorning. While Suzor was absent De Gex had, according to the friendlyconcierge, received a visitor, a middle-aged Spanish woman of themiddle-class. She had asked to see him, and on her name being sent upthe great one at once gave orders for her to be admitted. 

Again the floor waiter became inquisitive, and heard the financierspeaking in English with his visitor. 

"Unfortunate! Most unfortunate!" he heard De Gex say. "I am very glad, however, that you have come to me so quickly. You had a telegram fromSiguenza--eh?"

"I received it only a quarter of an hour ago, sir, " the woman hadreplied in broken English. 

Then De Gex had apparently given her something for her services, anddismissed her. 

"A telegram from Siguenza!" I exclaimed, when my friend Harry had toldme this. "Now Siguenza is on the direct line from here to the Pyreneesand the French frontier! That telegram may be from Despujol while inflight. If so, the police have set a trap for him at his journey'send, either at Jaca beneath Mont Perdu, or at Pamplona. I wonder ifhe'll be caught?"

"He might go on to Zaragoza and then turn to Barcelona andMarseilles, " Hambledon remarked. 

"All the frontiers are watched, so it seems almost impossible for himto escape. But, " I added, "I wonder if this information conveyed bythe Spanish woman really concerned the fugitive?"

"I wonder. A man like De Gex, with so many financial irons in thefire, and with agents in every European capital, is bound to receivevisits from all sorts and conditions of people who bring himinformation for profit. When one deals in colossal sums as he does, one has to cultivate people of all classes, " Hambledon said. "Personally, I don't think the woman's information had anything to dowith your mysterious friend's hurried departure, " he added. 

"I do. I'm highly suspicious. There was some motive that he did notattack me, as he could so easily have done, for he's a most desperatecharacter and has committed several murders when cornered. Hisexplanation was really wonderful, and I admit that I was so completelydeceived that I actually apologized to him! But, " I went on, "we mayperhaps know more when we learn the truth from Professor Vega. "

Hence at noon next day I called at the great hospital in the CalleAlberto Aguilera, and was ushered into the Professor's room. 

"Ah, my dear monsieur!" he exclaimed in French, knowing that I spokeSpanish only with the greatest difficulty. "I am very glad you havecalled. Those brass-headed pins which upholsterers often use, andwhich you have submitted to me, are most interesting from atoxicological point of view. "

"What?" I gasped. "Were they poisoned?"

"Undoubtedly, " replied the grave-faced old expert. "And by somebodywho is _au courant_ with the very latest and undetectable poison. Isearched for alkaloids and glucosids, and used Kippenberger's process, and then the tests of Marne, Meyer, Scheiblen and Dragendorff. Sinceyou brought the three pins to me I have been active all the time, forthe problem much interests me. At last--though I did not think thatthe substance could possibly contain so subtle, deadly, and as yetunknown poison--I applied Sonnenschein's reagent--phosphomolybdicacid--and then I obtained a result--only an hour ago indeed!"

"And what was the result, Professor?"

He looked me straight in the face, and replied: "You have had a verynarrow escape from death, monsieur--a very narrow one. Had you placedyour foot upon one of those upturned points you would have fallen deadwithin five seconds!"

"Why?"

"Because each of the points of those three pins, left there as thoughby accident by some upholsterer employed by the hotel, was impregnatedby one of the most deadly of all newly-discovered poisons. It iscalled by men of my profession orosin, after its discoverer Orosi, andis certainly a most dangerous poison in the hands of anyone withcriminal intent, because no post-mortem examination known to themedical profession to-day would be able to detect whether the victimhad been murdered or died of natural causes. "

"It astounds me!" I gasped. 

"No doubt. But to me, of course, it is a most interesting piece ofresearch, " and the professor went on: "I have never met this substancebefore, though I had heard whispers of it. Professor Orosi, who livedin Cologne a few years ago and is now dead, produced this poison quiteaccidentally, and among his intimate friends disclosed its existence, though he had no idea how to test for it with certainty. For fiveyears all toxicologists made constant tests until apparently quite byaccident Professor Sonnenschein, of Hanover, discovered the reagentwhich would reveal the actual glucosid, and determine its identity. Itgives a yellowish-white precipitate, " he added, holding up for myinspection a small test-tube containing a liquid of the colour he hadindicated. 

"Marvellous!" I exclaimed. "I had no idea that medical science couldcarry inquiries so far. I know that in criminal cases in London ourpathologists, with their mirror-tests for arsenic, fix the guilt uponpoisoners in a manner most amazing. But I have never heard of thissecret and most subtle poison which was placed beside my bed, theintention being for me to tread upon the impregnated pin. "

"And if you had done so you would have been taken with a sudden fatalseizure, the cause of which would never have been detected. "

"You mean I should have died of poison?"

"You certainly would. No medical aid would have been of any avail, fororosin is the most deadly substance which has ever been discovered. Itis indeed good for humanity that it is known to only a fewtoxicologists, but that in itself reveals the fact, monsieur, that anexceedingly clever and secret attack has been made upon your life. Asingle puncture of the skin with one or other of those pins which wereplaced so conveniently at your bedside when you sprang out to meet theintruder, and you would by this time have been buried as one whosedeath had been due to natural causes!"

I held my breath. This declaration by one of the greatest professorsof toxicology in Europe staggered me. A dastardly attempt had beenmade upon me by one of the most notorious of modern criminals!

Why? No attempt at assassination is made without some motive, and thegame must ever be "worth the candle. "

The whole of the dramatic incidents of the night flashed across mymemory; how I had faced the fellow in my room, challenged him at thepoint of my pistol, and compelled him to give me meekly proofs of hisrespectability. Truly it was all humorous--but only from Despujol'spoint of view. 

I recollected those innocent-looking pins which apparently had beenleft so carelessly in my room. Each held for me a sudden andsuspicious death. 

"The slightest puncture of the skin would inevitably prove fatal, " theProfessor continued. "Feeling yourself pricked you would naturallyremove the pin and very quickly afterwards death would supervene. Soprior to it you yourself would no doubt have removed all trace of thecrime!"

"It is as well that such poison is not generally known, or it would beused by many who wished to get rid of their friends, " I remarked. 

The Professor laughed, and agreed, saying:

"There are several poisons of the same type which are known only totoxicologists, and we are very careful not to allow the publicsufficient knowledge of them. I must confess that I never dreamed whenI commenced my investigations that I was in the presence of orosin. There is sufficient in this little tube"--and he held it to thelight--"to kill a hundred persons. It certainly is one of the mostdangerous of known compounds. "

"So it is evident that the man Despujol entered my room and placed thepins there intending that I should step upon one or other of them!" Igasped. 

"Without doubt. And it seems little short of a marvel that youescaped, " said the Professor. 

"It certainly does, " I remarked. "But I must tell the police of thefact you have established. The affair now assumes a new phase. The manwas not in my room with the intention of robbery, but in order toencompass my death by secret means. "

"If you had not so fortunately avoided treading upon the pins youcertainly would not be alive at the moment, " remarked the Professor, again reflectively examining the yellow fluid in the tube. "Whatmotive could the man have had in gaining access to your room andplacing the pins there? I suppose he did not risk putting them therebefore you went to bed, as you might have picked one up on your boot, and that would have drawn your attention to them. By placing themthere after you were in bed he hoped that, on getting out, your barefoot would come into contact with one of the impregnated points. "

"It was certainly a most fiendish plot!" I declared. "And I thank you, Professor, for taking all this trouble with your analysis and soestablishing the truth. I will go to the police and inform them. "

"Yes. I wish you to do that, for the fellow is undoubtedly inpossession of orosin, and intends to use it. Perhaps he has alreadykilled people by the same subtle and secret means. "

"He must be arrested at all costs, " I said. "Already the police allover Spain are watching for him, and special surveillance is beingkept along all the railways and on the frontier. "

"Any person with orosin in his possession should be detained andexamined, " the Professor declared. "I wonder where he obtained it?"

"Who knows?" I exclaimed, but I was reflecting whether, after all, mypresence in Madrid was not known to De Gex. If so, was it possiblethat he had hired the notorious Despujol to attack me in secret!

"Of course we know that there is a secret traffic in poisons. Medico-legists, with the police, have established that fact over andover again, " said Professor Vega. "But the vendors are very difficultto trace. One was found only six months ago--a doctor living in asuburb of Copenhagen. But orosin is not known to a dozen people beyondthose who study toxicology. Hence this man Despujol must have beensupplied with it by someone who knew. "

The suspicion had arisen in my mind that De Gex and his agent Suzorknew that I was in Madrid for the purpose of watching them, and theyhad resorted to a very clever and secret means of getting rid of meonce and for all. If the notorious criminal Despujol was in their payhe would no doubt afterwards blackmail them, now that the desperateplot had failed. Again, could it be possible that Moroni had had anyhand in supplying this most effective and dangerous of all secretpoisons to the Spanish malefactor who snapped his defiant fingersunder the very nose of the police?

As I sat in that quiet room of the Professor's, a room that smeltstrongly of chemicals, though it was filled mostly with books, I couldnot refrain from shuddering when I reflected upon the narrow escape Ihad had. Yet if De Gex resorted to such measures, he must certainlyhold me in great fear. Besides, if my life was threatened, so also wasthat of my friend Harry Hambledon, who remained so vigilant in theserene belief that his presence was undetected. 

At that time I never dreamed that the great financier who controlledthe destinies of certain European States never moved without a policeofficial being in attendance, and that surveillance was kept upon himas though he were royalty travelling incognito. De Gex, it seemed, wasever afraid that one of his enemies, the hundreds whom he had ruinedby dint of sharp practice, unscrupulous dealing, and flagrant bribery, might seek revenge. 

Hence, though neither Hambledon nor myself knew of it, both De Gex andhis toady and agent, Gaston Suzor, were well aware of our presence, and, moreover, were kept posted concerning our movements from day today!

Though we were in ignorance of all this, yet the desperate nature ofthe plot against me caused me to wonder what exactly was the fear inwhich De Gex held me. Of course it concerned Gabrielle Tennison. Butexactly how, I failed to surmise. 

One thing was certain, that the mystery-man of Europe intended to ridhimself of me, and in this he was being aided by certain of hisfriends, chief among whom were Suzor and Moroni. That the assassinDespujol was only a paid servant was quite clear. But the pay musthave been a very handsome sum to cause him to dare to come to Madridso boldly and run the risk of arrest. 

I smiled at my own innocence when I remembered how completely he hadimposed upon me by showing me his papers of identity, and thephotographs of his pretended family. Truly only a great criminal couldhave remained so imperturbed and polite to the man whom he intendedshould die. 

"This drug orosin is a very mysterious one, I suppose?" I remarked afew seconds later as the Professor, who had offered me a cigar, was inthe act of lighting up. 

"Yes. A very weak solution taken by the mouth produces extraordinaryeffects upon the human brain. The latter almost instantly becomesunbalanced and the victim lapses into an unconscious state for days, even for weeks, " he said. "Very often the brain is quite normal, savethat a complete loss of memory follows the return to consciousness. Inother cases orosin has produced complete and hopeless dementia. "

"Always hopeless?" I asked eagerly, recollecting my own case and thatof Gabrielle Tennison. 

"Not always hopeless. There have been cases that have been cured. "

"Do you know any personally?" I demanded breathlessly. 

"There are one or two--very few--on record. Professor Gourbeil, thewell-known alienist of Lyons, has observed two patients who recovered. But the majority of cases where orosin has been administered werefound incurable. The mind is blank, the memory completely destroyed, and the general health so undermined that only the strongest personscan withstand the strain. "

At once I described Gabrielle's symptoms and general attitude, whereupon the Professor said:

"What you tell me are the exact symptoms exhibited by a person to whoma small dose of orosin has been administered. In most cases, however, such a state of mind develops into actual insanity with a homicidaltendency. Such a patient should be very carefully watched, for inninety per cent. The chance of a cure is, alas! beyond expectation. "

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH

MORE ABOUT THE MYSTERY-MAN

One very important fact I had established. Orosin was the obscure andlittle-known drug that had been administered to Gabrielle Tennison, aswell as to myself, by the mystery-man of Europe at his palatial housein Stretton Street. Gabrielle being the weaker, was still sufferingfrom its paralysing effects, while I, the stronger, had practicallyrecovered. 

Yet it had been intended by the daring Despujol that a fatal"accident" should now befall me! And could anything be plainer thanthat the fellow for whom the police were searching so eagerly was ahireling of the man De Gex who went in fear of me?

That most secret and most potent of all poisons might be known toMoroni! Indeed, it apparently was known to him, and the endeavour hadbeen to introduce it into my system by means of an infected carpetpin. 

On leaving Professor Vega I at once sent a note round to Hambledon, and awaited his arrival. 

When he came I related all the professor had told me. 

"Well, Hugh, " he said, "we now know the truth, and it remains for usto combat the fiends. If you are marked down--no doubt I am also. Soit behoves us both to be very wary. "

"Why can't we tell the police the whole circumstances?" I suggested. 

"My dear fellow, they wouldn't believe you, and they wouldn't arrestsuch a powerful man as Oswald De Gex, " was his serious reply. "Moneycan buy immunity from arrest in every country in Europe, andespecially De Gex's money, for it can be distributed in secret by hisagents. No. If we are to be successful we must lay our plans just ascleverly as he lays his. We must allow him to believe that we areentirely unsuspicious of his plotting. That is our only way. "

I realized that there was much truth in his argument. It remained withus to pretend ignorance. Therefore we resolved to still watch andwait. 

A few hours later I told Señor Andrade, the Chief of Police, of theprofessor's discovery that the points of the pins had been infectedwith orosin, the newly discovered drug which in small doses producedloss of memory and insanity, and in larger doses sudden death. 

In reply, he informed me that though every effort had been made totrace the elusive fugitive, all had been in vain, and that he wasstill at large. 

"But if he has this terrible drug in his possession he is more thanever a danger to society, " the Spanish official went on, speaking inFrench. "I thank you, m'sieur, for all the information you have givenme, and you may rely upon me to take every possible step towardssecuring his arrest. I was in telegraphic communication with the ParisSûreté only this morning concerning him. I will wire them again. Theyhave been stirred into activity by the message I sent them after yourcall to see me. "

I longed again to be frank with the affable Señor Andrade, yet I sawthat if I were I might negative all chance of solving the problemwhich concerned the health and life of the girl whom I had grown tolove so fervently. 

Upon a sudden impulse I remarked with affected carelessness:

"I hear that our English financier, Mr. De Gex, is at the Ritz. "

"Yes, " he replied. "He is here under an assumed name in connexion withsome big railway scheme in Estremadura--a line between Toledo andMerida. It is badly wanted, and has been talked of for years. There isa huge stretch of country south of the Tagus as far as Villa Nuevawithout any railway communication. The King himself has been agitatingfor the development of that rich agricultural region for the last tenyears. And now it seems as though your great financier, Monsieur DeGex, is here to consult with the Ministry of Communications. "

"Yes, " I said, realizing in what high esteem that mystery-man ofmillions was held. 

"I do not think I would care to have such colossal wealth as his, "remarked the Chief of Police. "As soon as he arrived from Paris I hadorders from the Ministry to place him under surveillance, because, itseems, he goes in fear of some personal attack upon him. "

"By whom?" I asked, instantly interested. 

"The information is vague, " was his reply. Then, taking up a largeyellow paper from his desk, he said: "It seems that he has applied tothe Ministry for personal protection, and for a daily report of anyonewho may be keeping observation upon him. There is a young Englishmanliving at the Palace Hotel who seems unduly interested in thegentleman's movements. We are watching him. "

I held my breath. This was an unexpected revelation. De Gex was infear of us, and had resorted to that ruse in order to keep himselfposted upon Hambledon's movements! Truly the situation was dailygrowing more complicated!

"Surely such a well-known man as Mr. De Gex--a man who is noted notonly for his immense wealth, but for his generous contributions tocharity--could not have enemies?" I remarked. 

"Everyone has enemies, my dear m'sieur, " was the police official'ssuave reply. "Señor De Gex was here in Madrid a year ago when he madea similar application to the Ministry for personal surveillance. Hewas here in connexion with the foundation of the new Madrid andSouthern Spain Banking Corporation, which is guaranteed by a group ofFrench and Dutch financiers of whom Señor De Gex is the head. "

He paused, and then continued:

"He seems highly strung and nervous. All men who are in the public eyeseem to be the same. Well-known foreigners visiting Madrid often applyfor surveillance, yet there is certainly no need of it. And I confessto you that my staff is, after all, unduly worked. "

"I can quite imagine that, " I said. "But is a strict watch kept uponMr. De Gex?"

"Yes, and upon his agent, Monsieur Suzor, also. "

"Has Monsieur Suzor been in Madrid before?"

"He was here two years ago when Señor De Gex had some big financialdeal with the Count Chamartin, who was head of the Miramar ShippingCompany of Barcelona. They say he bought the whole fleet of steamersfrom Count Chamartin. "

"Was Count Chamartin wealthy?"

"Yes. A millionaire, without a doubt. But it is said that shortlybefore his death he quarrelled with his wife. Why, nobody knows. Shelives at Segovia, and their house here in the capital has just beensold. "

"Was any attempt made upon Mr. De Gex?" I asked. 

"Well, a mysterious young Frenchman called one night at the Ritz anddemanded to see him. He was very excited, and when he was refusedadmission upstairs, he flourished a revolver. My agent on dutyarrested the stranger, who was, after examination, deported. For thatSeñor De Gex sent me a letter of thanks, and the scarf-pin which yousee I wear. "

The pin he indicated consisted of a single black pearl with the basesurrounded by diamonds, an expensive piece of jewellery. That, initself, was sufficient to show that Oswald De Gex was a past-master inthe art of bribery, and that he had established in the minds of theauthorities of the Spanish capital that when he came there he came inthe interests of the Government, and hence he could do no wrong. 

Ah! How I longed to be able to tell my story to that charmingofficial. But I saw that if I did so he would not only disbelieve me, but put me down as an exaggerating fool. So I held my tongue. 

I further questioned him concerning De Gex and his friend Suzor. 

"Monsieur Suzor has been in Madrid before, " he said. "He is agent ofSeñor De Gex. But how wealthy the latter must be! During the war hemade a big loan to our Government. The real extent of it is not known, but some say that he can pull the strings of the Cabinet in any way hewishes, though the King disapproved of the whole transaction. At leastthat is the rumour. Yet, after all, Señor De Gex is a true friend ofSpain, even though he, like all financiers, obtains huge percentagesupon his loans. "

"True, " I laughed. "Men of wealth are seldom philanthropists. Onefinds more true philanthropy among the poor, and in the artisticcircles of lower Bohemia, than in the circles of the ultra-rich. Philanthropy is not written in the dictionary of the war-rich--thoseblatant profiteers with their motors and their places in the country, who, having fattened upon the lives of the brave fellows who foughtand died to save Europe from the unholy Hun, are now enjoying theirlives, while the widows and orphans of heroes starve. "

"Ah, M'sieur Garfield, with that I entirely agree, " sighed the astuteman seated at his writing-table with the three telephones at hiselbow. "In my official career as head of the police department ofMadrid, I have watched recent events, and I have seen how men who werelittle removed from the category of the worst criminals, have suddenlyjumped into wealth, with its consequent notoriety, and the power whichis inseparable from the possessor of money. "

"The international financier Oswald De Gex is one of those, " I said. "You cannot close your eyes to that fact!"

"You appear to entertain some antipathy towards him, " he remarked, alittle surprised it seemed. 

"No, not at all, " I assured him, smiling. "I only speak broadly. Allthese great financiers fatten upon the ruin of honest folk. "

"I hardly think that such is the case with Señor De Gex, " he remarked. "But you are English, and you probably know more than myselfconcerning his career. "

"Nobody in England knows much about him, " was my reply. "We only knowthat he is immensely wealthy, and that his riches are daily increasedby the various ventures which he finances. "

"He is a great support to our Ministry of Finance, " declared the Chiefof Police. "It was Count Chamartin who first interested him in Spain, I believe. In any case, they combined to finance a number ofindustrial enterprises, including the great Guadajoz Copper Minewhich must, in itself, have brought them both a fortune. "

"You said that the count is dead, " I remarked. 

"Yes. He died quite suddenly last year. He was one of the most popularmen at Court, and his tragic death caused a great sensation. He wastaken ill in the Sud Express while travelling from Madrid to keep anappointment with Señor De Gex in Paris, and though he was taken fromthe train on its arrival at San Sebastian and conveyed to thehospital, he died a few moments after reaching there. He had a weakheart, and had consulted two doctors only a month previously. They hadordered him a complete rest and change, but, contrary to their advice, he continued attending to his affairs--with fatal result. "

"And the countess?"

"Ah! Poor lady, she was beside herself with grief. She was his secondwife. His first was the daughter of an Englishman who lived in Madrid. The present countess is the daughter of the Marquis Avellanosa ofAlgeciras, and they were a most devoted pair. She now lives in Segoviain comparative seclusion. The count's untimely end was a great loss toSpain. "

It was news to me that Oswald De Gex was in Madrid with his agentSuzor in connexion with the new railway scheme. Indeed, what I hadjust been told was all amazing, and showed De Gex to be a man ofoutstanding genius. The mystery-man of Europe took good care to informhimself of any person who watched his movements, or sought to inquireinto his business. It certainly was a master-stroke to pretend fear ofassassination, and compel the police to act as his personal guard. Bythat means he had learnt that Hambledon and myself were in Madrid onpurpose to discover what we could, hence he had hired the assassinDespujol to set that dastardly trap for me. 

Again it was upon the tip of my tongue to reveal the suspicions I hadof the great financier, but I refrained, because I could see that mycompanion held De Gex in high esteem as a friend and financialmainstay of his country. 

A few moments later I reverted to the possibility of the arrest ofDespujol, for if arrested he might betray De Gex as the person who hadpaid him to place those infected pins in my room. In such case mystory would be heard and investigated. 

But the Chief of Police shook his head dubiously. 

"I fear that he has again gone into safe hiding--up in the mountainssomewhere, without a doubt, " he replied. "It was an act ofconsiderable daring to come boldly to Madrid and stay at your hotelwhen he knows full well the hue-and-cry for him is raised everywhere, and that there is actually ten thousand pesetas offered as reward forhis capture. "

"Someone may betray him, " I suggested with a smile. 

"Yes. We hope so. One of his friends, male or female, will no doubt doso and come one day to us for the reward. Not till then shall we knowthe truth of that strange attempt upon your life. The motive could nothave been robbery, as you had nothing worth taking save your watch. Ifhe had been found in De Gex's room at the Ritz one could haveunderstood it. "

I smiled. The Chief of Police never suspected the true facts of thecase, facts within my own knowledge, which were of such an amazing andstartling character that I hesitated to relate them. 

When I left my friend I again sought Hambledon and told him all I hadlearnt. 

"H'm!" he grunted. "Very wily of De Gex to get the police to keep aneye upon me. If I'm not careful I shall suddenly find myself underarrest as a suspicious person who is in the habit of loitering in thevicinity of the great financier. "

"Yes, " I agreed. "This seems to put an end to our presentactivity--does it not?"

"Well, he apparently knows that we are watching, " Hambledon said. "What a pity we cannot tell the police all we know. "

"If we did we should not be believed, and, moreover, they wouldn'thear a word against the great man who is such a friend to Spain. Moneybuys reputation, remember. Nobody knows that better than De Gex. "

Hambledon was standing at my bedroom window looking thoughtfully downupon the Puerta del Sol with its crowd of hurrying foot-passengers. 

"It seems a miserable ending to all our careful surveillance uponSuzor--doesn't it?" he grumbled. 

"True, it does. But now that the pair are on the alert I cannot seethat anything can be gained by remaining in Madrid longer, " I pointedout. 

"Then you intend to give up the quest for the truth?"

"Not by any means, " I replied quickly. "I intend, at all hazards, andat all costs, to still fathom the mystery. What we have learned sincewe came to Spain puts quite a different complexion upon matters. Weare now in possession of certain facts concerning De Gex--facts ofwhich we had no suspicion. We had never dreamed that to further hisends he did not hesitate to employ a notorious criminal to commitmurder with malice aforethought. Neither did we know anything of hisfinancial dealings with the Spanish Ministry of Finance, or hispartnership with the Conde de Chamartin, or that the drug he usedupon poor Gabrielle and myself was the obscure but most deadly anddangerous orosin. All these are points which may in the near future beof greatest advantage to us. Therefore we must not despair. Let ustake courage and continue to probe the mystery--for the sake of poorGabrielle Tennison, " I urged. "Let us act as quietly and discreetly asour enemy is acting, and we may yet attain success!"

CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH

THE TRACK OF DESPUJOL

Having decided to still remain in Madrid I deemed it advisable toengage the services of a private inquiry agent to watch the movementsof De Gex and Suzor, who still remained at the Ritz. The mystery-man, living under an assumed name, never went out in the daytime, thoughSuzor often went forth, paying visits to certain banks and commercialoffices in connexion with the proposed new railway. 

The man we engaged was an elderly ex-detective of the Seville police, named Pardo, who very soon discovered the identity of the secret agentemployed to keep surveillance upon De Gex on behalf of the police sothat no harm should befall him. 

In consequence, I took Pardo into my confidence, and calling him to myhotel, explained that I desired to keep secret watch upon theFrenchman Suzor, without the knowledge of the detective watching DeGex. 

"I particularly desire to know the addresses of any telegram whichSuzor may send. Probably he may send some message to Italy. If so, please discover the address and the text of the message. "

I believed that De Gex might communicate with Moroni, now that theplot of Despujol had failed. 

"I will watch, señor, " was the grey-haired Spaniard's reply. "If SeñorSuzor sends any telegram I shall probably obtain a copy of it. Theyknow me well at the chief telegraph office. Señor Suzor appears to betransacting a considerable amount of business in Madrid--a scheme fora new railway, I understand. "

"Yes, I know. All I want you to do is to find out who visits Mr. DeGex, and whether any telegrams are sent by either him or Mr. Suzor. "

"I quite understand, señor, " was the detective's reply as he rose, anda few minutes later withdrew. 

Late in the evening two days afterwards I returned to the hotel tofind the man Pardo awaiting me. After I had taken him up to my roomand closed the door, he drew a piece of paper from his pocket, sayingin French:

"Señor Suzor sent a telegram at half-past eight this evening of whichthis is a copy. "

The message he handed me was in a pencilled scribble, and was inEnglish as follows:

 "Charles Rabel, Rue de Lalande 163, Montauban. --

 "Important that I should see you. Meet me at Hôtel Luxembourg, Nîmes, without fail, next Monday at noon. --O. "

The initial "O" stood for Oswald--Oswald De Gex! So the mystery-man ofEurope contemplated leaving Madrid!

I thanked the man Pardo, who said:

"Señor Suzor did not dispatch the telegram from the chief office inthe Calle del Correo, but from the branch office in the Plaza delProgreso. He apparently wished to send it in secret. "

"I wonder why?" I asked. 

The Spaniard raised his shoulders. 

The address conveyed nothing to me. But the message was proof that DeGex intended to leave Spain, and further, it was a source ofsatisfaction to know his destination in case he slipped away suddenly. 

After Pardo had gone I sat and pondered. It struck me as very curiousthat Suzor should have gone to a distant telegraph office in order tosend the message. It seemed that he feared to be recognized by thecounter-clerk at the chief telegraph office. For over an hour I smokedreflectively. I confess that a curious ill-defined suspicion hadarisen in my mind, a suspicion that became so strong that just abouteleven o'clock I entered the Jefatura Superior de Policia in the Callede la Princesa, and again inquired for Señor Andrade. 

Fortunately he had been detained in his office, and I was shown intohis presence. 

He seemed surprised to see me, but at once he became interested when Isaid:

"I have a distinct suspicion that I know the whereabouts of Despujol. "

"Have you?" he exclaimed quickly. "What causes you to suspect?"

"A man whom I believe to be an acquaintance of his has to-day sent anurgent telegram to Charles Rabel, Rue de Lalande, 163, in Montauban, in France, making an appointment to meet him at the Hôtel Luxembourgat Nîmes next Monday at noon. "

"Who is his friend?" he asked eagerly. 

"I regret, Señor Andrade, that I am not in a position to answer thatquestion. The whole matter is only one of suspicion--very strongsuspicion. "

The Chief of Police looked very straight at me. 

"Ah! Then you are in possession of certain secret knowledge concerningthe man who made such a dastardly attempt upon your life!" heremarked. "And you suspect this Charles Rabel at Montauban to be thefugitive--eh?"

"Exactly, " I replied. 

He asked me to repeat the address, which he scribbled down, and thenlooking up, said:

"Personally, Señor Garfield, I think your suspicions are unfounded. Despujol, if he is ever found, will be discovered in hiding somewherein the mountains of the north. "

"But why not in Montauban?" I asked. "He is apparently a well-educatedman, judging from his conversation with me. He speaks French well, andperhaps passes as a French subject. "

"He could pass for a Spaniard, an Italian, a Greek, or a Frenchman, "Andrade remarked. "And as forged passports are so cheap nowadays, andalmost impossible to detect, the means of escape of such a daringcriminal are both numerous and easy. But, " he added, "I am interestedin this person whom you believe to be a friend of the fugitive. Cannotyou tell me who he is?"

I shook my head, and smiling replied:

"I have only come here to tell you of a very distinct suspicion Ientertain that Despujol is at Montauban. "

"Then his friend is your enemy--eh?" he suggested, his dark, penetrating eyes fixed upon mine. "You know the motive of that trapwhich Despujol set for you, and yet you will not reveal it to me!"

Again I shook my head and smiled. 

"It would make my task much easier, " he remarked. 

"I am aware of that. But at present mine is only a suspicion. I haveno actual knowledge that Charles Rabel is the man you are so desirousof arresting. "

"And you really refuse to tell me who sent this message?" he asked ina tone of disappointment. 

"It was sent in secret, " I answered. "Indeed, it was that fact whichcaused me to suspect. You can, of course, obtain the original of thetelegram by applying for it from the authorities. But it is onlysigned by an initial. "

"How did you obtain knowledge of it?"

"Again I have no intention of disclosing the source of my information, Señor Andrade, " I replied as politely as I could, "I am, as a matterof fact, here in Madrid attempting to solve a very remarkable mysterywhich occurred in London a few months ago. "

"This is most interesting! You never told me that before!" heexclaimed. "I confess I wondered with what motive you and your friendSeñor Hambledon, living at separate hotels, had in remaining here. Itwas regarded as suspicious by the detective force that being suchintimate friends you lived at separate hotels, and met only in secret. Reports have reached me of your movements, and of your meetings, " helaughed. "More than once you have been regarded as suspected persons, "he added. 

"Well, I hope you do not regard me as a suspected person any longer, Señor Andrade!" I exclaimed with a smile. 

"No, no, " he laughed. "But I confess you are something of a mystery. Why should the notorious Despujol dare to put his foot into Madrid andlay that deadly plot to kill you? You know the motive, and yet youwill not disclose it to me. "

"Not at present, " I said. "If it is found that Charles Rabel is reallyDespujol, then I will come forward and state all that I know. "

"You promise that?"

"I do. "

"Very well--then I will give orders to have your suspicionsinvestigated, " replied the patient, urbane official. "A detectiveshall leave by the next train for Montauban with a request to thePrefect of Police of the Department of Tarn-et-Garonne for the arrestof the individual in question, if he should be identified. "

"Then I will accompany him, " I said. 

"Excellent, " he exclaimed. "It would be well if Señor Rivero, the headof the Detective Department, whom you have met, went in person toFrance. I will ring him up at his house. "

He took up the telephone and a few minutes later spoke rapidly inSpanish to the chief detective of Spain. 

Presently after a rapid conversation he put down the receiver, andsaid:

"Señor Rivero will meet you at the Delicias Station at two o'clockto-morrow morning. The express for Barcelona leaves at two-fifteen. From Barcelona you can get direct to Nîmes, and on to Montauban. And, "he added, "I only hope you will be successful in arresting thenotorious Despujol. "

I thanked him, and suggested that if we should be fortunate enough toidentify him, we should watch for the keeping of the appointment atthe Hôtel Luxembourg at Nîmes on the following Monday. 

"With whom is he keeping the appointment?" asked Señor Andrade. 

"That I will disclose later, " was my reply. "I know that theappointment has been fixed, and if we watch, we shall, I feel assured, gain some knowledge of considerable interest. "

"As you wish, " replied the Chief of Police, who now seemed convincedby my manner that I was in possession of certain actual facts. "Youwill meet Señor Rivero--eh?"

"Certainly, " I said. 

"Then I wish the pair of you the good fortune of arresting theassassin Despujol, " he said as we shook hands and parted. 

I drove at once to Hambledon's hotel, where I found that he had justretired to bed. As he stood in his pyjamas, surprised at my unexpectedvisit at that hour, I told him what I had arranged. 

"Then I will remain here and watch De Gex's departure, " he said. 

"Yes. But be very careful of yourself, " I urged. "Keep your revolverhandy, for you never know when an attack may be made upon you. Thesefellows, though great men in the eyes of the world, employ desperatecharacters to do their dirty work. "

"I'm quite alive to that fact, Hugh, " replied my friend. "But we won'tgive up till we punish those responsible for poor Miss Tennison'sstate--will we?"

"No, we won't, " I declared determinedly. "Of course we may be on awrong scent, but something seems to tell me that we are pretty hot onthe trail. The assassin Despujol would never have been employed bythem if they did not hold us in dread. "

"Your journey to Montauban will prove whether you are right, Hugh, " hesaid, and then, after arranging that he should follow Suzor should DeGex leave without him, and that he should at once wire me word to thePoste Restante at Nîmes, I left, and returning to the hotel packed mysuit-case and later met the bald-headed but famous detective. 

The latter proved an amusing companion who, during the long nightjourney to the Mediterranean, recounted to me many of his interestingexperiences. His French was better than his English, so we conversedin the former tongue. 

There was no sleeping carriage upon the train, therefore, after mycompanion had spoken to the conductor, we made ourselves ascomfortable as we could in the first-class compartment which had beenreserved for us. At half-past three in the morning, with true Spanishforethought, he produced some sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a bottle ofexcellent wine, upon which we made a hearty meal, after which we dozedin our corners till dawn. 

Throughout the day my companion, who was quite as eager as myself toarrest the notorious Despujol, chatted in French as we went slowlydown the fertile valley of the Ebro and suddenly out to where on ourright lay the broad blue sea. Not until late afternoon did we arriveat Barcelona, and having two hours to wait we went along the Paseo deSan Juan to the Francia Station, and having deposited our bags there, strolled along to the Plaza de Cataluña, where, at the gay MaisonDorée, we had coffee and cigarettes, while my companion read the_Diario_ and I watched the picturesque crowd about us. Rivero knewBarcelona well, so after we had finished our cigarettes we took a taxito the Central Police Office, where we had a chat with the chief ofthe Detective Department, a short stout little man with a round boyishface and a black moustache. After that we took another taxi along tothe toy-fair in the Plaza de la Constitución, it being the Feast ofSt. George, the patron saint of Catalonia, which accounted for thebustle and gaiety of the city. 

Then, after an interesting half-hour, we returned to the station andset out upon our slow eight-hour journey through the rich wine landsof Catalonia, with their quaint mediæval villages and towns, withoccasional glimpses of sapphire sea, and passing over many ravines andgullies we at last, long after nightfall, entered a long tunnel atthe end of which was the station of Port-Bou, the French frontier. 

The usual prying douaniers were quickly at work, and after some coffeeat the Restaurant Baqué, which is so well known to travellers toSouthern Spain, we re-entered the train for Narbonne, where in themorning we changed and travelled to Montauban, by way of Carcassonneand Toulouse. 

It was late in the afternoon when, on arrival at our destination, wetook rooms at the Hôtel du Midi on the opposite side of the Tarn tothe prosperous pleasant little French town, once a headquarter of theInquisition, and even now containing in its Museum the executioner'saxe and many instruments of torture. After a wash and a meal, for wewere both very hungry, we set out to find Monsieur Charles Rabel, whose address was Rue de Lalande, number 163. 

We crossed the wonderful old brick bridge from Villebourbon to thetown--a bridge built in the fourteenth century with an internalpassage running beneath the roadway to the ancient Château. Then, making our way past the old Church of St. Jacques, with its fineGothic octagonal tower, and passing through a number of streets wefound ourselves in the narrow old-world Rue de Lalande. 

Just as we entered the street, which contained a number of smallshops, I halted. 

"He must not see me!" I exclaimed. 

"I quite agree, " replied the Spanish detective. "There is a littlecafé over there. Go in and wait for me. I will make some discreetinquiries concerning this Monsieur Rabel. "

Hence we parted, and while Señor Rivero sauntered along the street insearch of the house in question, I went into the café and ordered abock. 

Full of anxiety lest, after all, this man Rabel should be arespectable citizen, I waited. 

Time passed slowly. Half an hour went by. I ordered a mazagran and satsmoking, trying to suppress my eagerness. An hour elapsed--an hour anda half--two hours!

I waited yet another half-hour until the proprietor of the café beganto look askance at me. Then I paid, and rising, went out into thestreet. 

It was now dark. There was no sign of my friend the Spanish policeagent. He had disappeared!

I stood upon the pavement full of anxiety and bewilderment. 

What could have happened to him?

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH

MADEMOISELLE JACQUELOT

I returned to my rather barely-furnished room at the Hôtel du Midiwhich overlooked the Place outside the station in the suburb acrossthe river, and sank into a chair to reflect. 

The concierge--a lad who wore the concierge's cap--the concierge beingoff duty at his evening meal--informed me that my friend had notreturned. He seemed an alert French lad of that type so frequentlyseen in Continental hotels. 

Señor Rivero had disappeared! For an hour I waited seated alone in myroom reflecting deeply. My sole desire and fixed object was to solvethe enigma of Gabrielle Tennison's unfortunate mental state and tobring to justice those unscrupulous blackguards responsible for it. AsI sat there her pale beautiful face arose before me--the wonderfulcountenance of the girl who had, in such a strange and indescribablemanner, taken possession of my soul. To analyse my feelings towardsher was impossible. I put to myself the query why I loved her, but Iwas utterly unable to answer it. 

I loved her most passionately and devotedly. That was all. 

The tragedy of the situation was that I loved one who, alas! could notreturn my affection as a girl with her mental balance unaffected coulddo. Her poor unbalanced brain could never allow her to understand me, or to return my love. 

I was tired after the long sleepless journey from Spain, and I supposeI must have dozed in my chair. 

I awoke suddenly, hearing a tap upon the door, and an elderlychambermaid entered with a telegram. 

I tore it open and found it had been dispatched from Castelsarrasin, and was from Rivero, saying: "Absence unavoidable. Hope to be back bymidnight. "

"Where is Castelsarrasin?" I inquired of the woman. 

"It is about sixteen kilomètres from here, m'sieur, " replied the buxomwoman in the strong accent of Toulouse. "It is on the road to Agen andthe railway junction for Beaumont-de-Lomagne. Just a small town. Theysay that the name is a corruption of Castel-sur-Azin. At least mymother used to tell me so. "

What, I wondered, had taken the head of the Madrid detective force outthere? He must be following some fresh clue. 

So I went forth across the bridge to a big café opposite the theatre, and there idled till nearly midnight, when I returned eagerly to meetmy friend. 

He entered my room just before one o'clock in the morning, tired anddusty, for he appeared to have walked a long distance. I had somecognac and a syphon of seltzer awaiting him, and sinking exhaustedinto a chair, he took a long and refreshing drink before he spoke. 

"Well?" he said with a sigh. "You have been wondering why Idisappeared so mysteriously--eh? The fact is I was compelled. Onmaking inquiry of a shoemaker who has a little shop near CharlesRabel's house I learned that the man for whom we are searching livedin a flat on the first floor of the house kept by a widow namedCailliot. But he was frequently absent in England or in Italy. Onlyfor short spells was he there, for he was a commercial travellerrepresenting a Lyons firm of silkweavers. As we were speaking, theshoemaker pointed to a rather smart young woman who was at that momentleaving the house, and said: 'Look! That is Mademoiselle Jacquelot, the fiancée of Monsieur Charles! She might tell you where he is. I donot think he is at home to-day. I saw him four days ago and spoke tohim as he passed. But I believe he has left again!' I thanked him, andat once followed Mademoiselle, hence I had no time to tell you, for Ihad no idea where she was going. I saw that by following Rabel'sfiancée I might gain some useful knowledge. She walked to the station, and took a ticket for Castelsarrasin. I did the same. We had half anhour to wait, but I spent it patiently, and when we left I travelledalone with her in the same compartment. Soon I managed to get intoconversation with her, whereupon I mentioned that I had a friend, Monsieur Charles Rabel, in Montauban, and that we had met in Paris. Hehad once shown me her photograph and I believed I was not mistakenthat she was Mademoiselle Jacquelot. At first she was surprised, but Itold her a very plausible story, whereupon she explained that Charleshad gone to Toulouse on business three days before, but that he wasreturning at noon to-morrow. She herself lived in Castelsarrasin. "

"But do you anticipate that we shall discover in Charles Rabel thenotorious Despujol?" I inquired eagerly. 

Rivero raised his shoulders and elevated his black eyebrows, saying:

"From facts I gathered from Mademoiselle concerning him I certainlythink that we are really upon his track. It hardly seems possible, butwe must remain in patience till to-morrow. Then, if we find oursurmise correct, we must act with the greatest caution if we are towatch him to Nîmes where he is to meet your mysterious friend--the manwhose name you refuse to reveal. "

"When they meet you will at once recognize him, " I said. "I may bemistaken, " I added. "But I do not anticipate that I am. If all goeswell, then you will arrest the notorious Despujol. "

"I only wish that the fellow would fall into my hands, " replied mycompanion. "If so, then revelations will be made that will startleEurope. "

"And incidentally gain you promotion in the service--eh?" I laughed. 

He nodded and admitted:

"I hope so, Señor Garfield. I sincerely hope so, " he replied, and weparted for the night. 

Next day I woke early and sought my friend. We idled about till nearlynoon, when we went together to the railway station to watch thearrival of the train from Toulouse. 

A number of people were about, for the dusty lumbering express fromBordeaux to Marseilles had, at that moment, arrived, and considerablebustle ensued in consequence. 

While we stood watching the crowd Señor Rivero suddenly touched myarm, and whispered:

"Look yonder! The girl in dark blue! That is Mademoiselle Jacquelot!She must not see me. I wonder why she is here--if not to warn him ofthe inquiries made concerning him by a stranger!"

I glanced in the direction he had indicated and saw a tall, slim, rather good-looking girl sauntering idly in our direction. Herattention had, for the moment, been diverted by an advertisement uponthe wall. 

"Quick!" cried my friend. "Let us slip back here. "

And next moment we had repassed the barrier, back into thebooking-office. 

"If she sees me her suspicions will be aroused--if they are notalready aroused, " said my companion. "The fact that she is here givesrise to the question whether she is really so innocent as shepretends. She may know of her lover's escapades, and suspects me ofhaving followed her out to her home. "

"If she does suspect, then she is cleverer than you anticipated, " Iremarked. 

"Yes. But in any case we had better act independently. You return tothe platform, for she has never seen you. You will remain wellconcealed and watch them meet, while I shall be at the exit toidentify him if you find that you cannot get near enough to himwithout courting observation. "

As he spoke the bell was clanging, and there came the roar of theengine entering the big echoing station. 

I slipped back instantly upon the platform and standing at a pointagainst the corner of the bookstand where I hoped to escapeunobserved, I turned my head away as the train came along. Then, whenit drew up, I held my breath anxiously as I turned around. 

The girl in navy blue was not far from me searching along the trainuntil, of a sudden, she espied a man in a dark overcoat and dark-greenvelour hat, who had just alighted, carrying in his hand a smallleather case. His countenance was ruddy, and he had a small blackmoustache. 

My heart fell. The man was a stranger to me! The countenance was notthat of the man whom I had surprised in my bedroom at Madrid. He bentand greeted her affectionately, but next moment it was apparent thatshe was explaining something which caused his countenance to growserious. 

He put one or two swift questions to her. Then halting suddenly, heglanced at his watch. 

I strove to get sufficiently near to look well into his face, but Ifeared recognition. 

Would he pass out of the exit where the famous Spanish detective wasawaiting him? Rivero knew Despujol by photographs, and indeed had beenpresent when he had been convicted on the last occasion a few yearsbefore. 

Mademoiselle's friend hesitated for some moments, and then accosting aporter asked a question. The man pointed to a train on the oppositeplatform. 

Was it possible that what Mademoiselle had told him had scared him?It seemed so, for with a sudden resolve, instead of walking to theexit he entered the booking-office and bought another ticket. 

In an instant I dashed to the exit where the Spaniard was waiting, andin a few breathless words told him of the man's intention. 

To my amazement Señor Rivero heard me unmoved. 

"I was awaiting you, " he said. "The man you have been watching is notDespujol at all. Despujol, whom I recognized, passed out a few momentsago and took a cab to his house in the Rue de Lalande. "

"Then you have seen him!" I gasped. 

"Yes. It is Rodriquez Despujol, without a doubt, Monsieur Garfield. You have not been mistaken, and we must certainly thank you forputting us upon the track of this dangerous assassin. "

"Then, after all, my surmise is correct! And he will go on Monday tomeet his paymaster in Nîmes, " I said. "The plot against me failed. Probably a second attempt is to be made. "

"We shall be careful not to be seen until he travels to Nîmes, "laughed Rivero, well satisfied at the progress he had made. 

"But I wonder who is the red-faced man whom Mademoiselle has met, " Iremarked. "She has evidently warned him of some danger. "

"If that's so we ought to see him, " my friend exclaimed. "Let us gotogether on to the platform and watch. So long as Mademoiselle doesnot recognize me, we are safe. "

With the reassuring knowledge that the man who was being sought for bythe whole police of Europe had gone to his unsuspicious abode in theRue de Lalande, we returned to the far platform where a train stoodwaiting to leave. It was the _rapide_ for Paris by way of Bourges. Theman was already in a third-class compartment and as he stood with hishead out of the window, Mademoiselle was chatting with him. Truly hisstay in Montauban had not been long. 

The instant Rivero caught sight of the fellow's face, he exclaimed:

"Holy Madonna! Why, it is Mateo Sanz, the motor-bandit. We've beensearching everywhere for him! He shot and killed a carabineer nearMalaga a month ago!"

Next second he had left me and a few moments later hurried back. Hehad bought a ticket. 

"Sanz does not know me. As soon as we've left the station and are awayfrom Mademoiselle I shall be all right. Remain here. I will wire you, and in any case we shall be together in Nîmes on Monday. But becareful not to be seen by Despujol. He is a wary bird, remember!"

Then, unseen by Mademoiselle, he entered a first-class compartment ofthe train, just as the signal was given to start. 

The train moved off, and I was left alone. Surely much had happened inthose few exciting moments!

But why had Mademoiselle Jacquelot warned her friend the motor-bandit?If she had warned him because of Rivero's inquiries concerningDespujol then she could also warn the latter. Again it was curiousthat she met Sanz, and did not meet Despujol. Further, it was astrange fact that the pair of Spanish criminals had not travelledtogether--unless there was some reason for it. 

Perhaps there was. 

I watched Mademoiselle as she passed out of the station to a littlerestaurant where she had a frugal meal. Then she returned and took aticket back to her home in Castelsarrasin. 

Rivero now had his hands full. Not only had he identified in therespectable commercial traveller, Charles Rabel, the notoriousassassin Despujol, but he had also quite accidentally come across Sanzthe motor-bandit, who of late had terrorized the south of Spain, andwhose daring depredations were upon everyone's lips. Mademoiselleseemed to be a friend of both men!

I returned to my hotel close by, and ate my _déjeuner_ alone. Myposition was a very unenviable one, for I feared to go over into thetown lest I should come face to face with the man who had so cunninglymade an attempt upon me as the hireling of Oswald De Gex. 

But my thoughts were ever of my beloved, the girl who was the victimof some foul plot into which I, too, had been drawn--a mystery which Iwas devoting my whole life to solve. 

At five o'clock that evening I received a telegram from Harry inMadrid, telling me that all was quiet, and "our friend"--meaning DeGex--never went out. 

To this I replied in a cryptic way that our suspicions had beenverified, and that the person of whom we were in search we haddiscovered. We were only now waiting for the appointment to be kept atthe Hôtel de Luxembourg at Nîmes. 

Next day passed uneventfully. In order to kill time I took train tothe quaint little town of Moissac, an ancient little place on the Tarnabout twenty-five kilomètres distant, and there spent the hourswandering about the countryside which is so famed for its grapes inautumn. I did not return to Montauban till after seven, and while Isat at dinner the waiter handed me another telegram. It was fromRivero, and having been sent from Lyons, read: "All well. Justreturning to Montauban. "

Later, I busied myself with time-tables and found that he would be dueto arrive about six o'clock on the following morning. Therefore Ipossessed myself in patience, and I was still in bed when in themorning he entered my room. 

"Well?" he exclaimed in French, as he sank wearily into a chair. "I'vehad a swift and weary journey. Sanz has been alarmed by the girl. Why, I cannot tell. Did she go to see Despujol?"

"No, " I replied. "She didn't see him, but went straight home. "

"You have not ventured near Despujol, I hope?"

"No. I have hardly ventured into the town. "

"Good. Well, we shall make a double arrest, " he went on. "When thetrain arrived at the junction at Montlucon at midnight Sanz, evidentlyfearing lest he was followed, slipped out of the train and intoanother on the opposite side of the platform. It is a favourite dodgeof elusive persons of his type. So, unseen by him, I also joined thetrain, and we travelled across to Lyons. There he went to a house inthe Rue Chevreuil, close to the river, and when I had him safely thereI went to the Bureau of Police and asked that observation should bekept upon him until such time that we in Spain should demand hisarrest and extradition. The Lyons police know me very well, so twoagents were at once detailed for that duty, and I immediately made myway back here. It seems that Sanz is also wanted in France for amotor-car exploit outside Orleans. Therefore our discovery is indeed alucky one!"

"Will Sanz be arrested?" I asked. 

"Yes. I have already reported by telegram to Señor Andrade in Madrid. He will at once ask them in Paris to order the arrest. "

"And Despujol?"

"We have now to await his journey to Nîmes to keep this mysteriousappointment with your friend. "

"Not my friend, " I remarked, "rather with my bitterest enemy!"

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST

AT THE HÔTEL LUXEMBOURG

As a detective Rivero was of outstanding shrewdness. He knew that morecould be gained by patience than by sharp activity. Hence he did notgo near the Rue de Lalande. Indeed, on the Saturday night we both leftMontauban together, and travelled by that slow, cross-country routethrough the Aveyron, by way of Sévérac, down to the ancient city ofNîmes--that quaint, quiet old place which contains more monuments ofantiquity than any other town in France. 

Early in the morning we alighted at the station, high upon a viaduct, after a sleepless night, and drove to a small commercial hotel, theCheval Blanc, in the Place des Arènes, nearly opposite the Luxembourgwhere the mystery-man of Europe had appointed to meet the infamousDespujol. When I inquired for a telegram one was handed to me. It wasfrom Hambledon, saying that De Gex had left for Nîmes and Suzor wasreturning to Paris, therefore he would follow the latter. 

Having installed ourselves in the hotel, Rivero went to the concierge, and taking him into his confidence over a twenty-franc note, told himthat he was very anxious to know whether a gentleman named Rabel hadarrived at the Luxembourg. Would he ask the concierge there privatelyon the telephone?

The man in uniform at once rang up the Luxembourg, and addressing theconcierge as his "dear Henri, " made the inquiry. 

The reply was that Monsieur Rabel was expected at noon. 

"Ask if a gentleman is expected who has engaged a privatesitting-room, " Rivero said. 

The reply came back that a gentleman, believed to be English, hadarrived in the night and now occupied the best suite. His name wasMonsieur Johnson, of London. 

I then described De Gex to the concierge, who repeated the descriptionto the other hotel. 

"Yes, m'sieur, " he said, turning again to me. "Henri believes it isthe same gentleman whom you describe. "

"Who is he?" asked Rivero, much puzzled. 

"Wait--and you will see, " I replied, laughing, for we now seemed to bewithin an ace of success. 

Just before midday we watched the arrival of the train from Montauban, and from it there descended the man we expected--the notoriousDespujol. Though his features were unmistakable he was made up to lookmuch older, his hair being made grey above the ears. 

At his side there walked a man whom I instantly recognized, and sightof him, I must confess, caused me to hold my breath. 

It was the sinister-faced Italian, Doctor Moroni. 

We drew back, and hastening to a taxi, returned at once to our hotel, from the door of which we could see the entrance to the Luxembourg, where a few moments later we saw both the travellers enter. 

What further devil's work was now in progress?

We watched the hotel in patience, until just before three o'clock thetrio came forth laughing airily. 

"Why, look!" gasped Rivero. "Despujol is with your great Englishfinancier, Señor De Gex!"

I smiled triumphantly. 

"I told you that I had a surprise in store for you, " I exclaimed. 

"But if Despujol is with him it must be with some evil intent!"

"That is certain!"

"While Señor De Gex was in Madrid we had orders to afford him policeprotection, " Rivero said. "Possibly he suspected that some attemptmight be made upon him. Certainly he has no idea of that man's trueidentity. "

"Yes, he has, for he has come here specially to meet him in secret. But why that Italian should be here I can only surmise. He is a doctorfrom Florence, named Moroni--a man of very evil repute. "

"But why should Señor De Gex meet such people in secret?" askedRivero, much astonished. 

"I suppose there is some strong motive why they should meet--the moreso, now that I have proved to you that the notorious Despujol is ahireling of this wealthy man De Gex. "

"A hireling!" he gasped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that De Gex hired Despujol to make that attempt upon my life, and I have a suspicion--one not yet entirely verified--that Moroniprepared that deadly orosin by the agency of which it was hoped that Ishould meet with my death. "

"Do you really suggest that De Gex, one of the best-known and mostphilanthropic men in Europe, actually hired Despujol to go to yourroom that night?" my companion asked, his eyes following the trio asthey walked together and chatted beneath the trees of the AvenueFeuchères. 

"I do. And further, De Gex has every motive in closing my lips. "

"Ah! Then you hold some secret of his, perhaps?" asked Rivero, a newinterest being instantly aroused. 

"I do--one that I intend to expose when I obtain sufficientcorroborative evidence, " I answered with determination. "But is notthe fact of the three men meeting here in secret under assumed namessufficient proof to you that some fresh plot is afoot?"

"Certainly it is, " Rivero agreed. "But I wish you would reveal to methe whole facts. "

"It is unnecessary, " was my reply. "You are here only to deal withDespujol. I promised I would bring you to him--and I have done so. Instead of living in obscurity in a high-up frontier village in thePyrenees, as you in Madrid believed, I have shown you that he lives inMontauban, where he passes as an industrious commercial traveller. Ifyou search that house in the Rue de Lalande you might find a quantityof stolen property. "

"As a matter of fact, it has already been searched by the police ofMontauban at my request, " he replied. "The raid was made last nightafter Charles Rabel had left. I received a telegram from theCommissary of Police only an hour ago to the effect that six heavycases of 'travellers' samples' had been opened, and in them was founda great quantity of stolen jewellery, negotiable securities, and otherobjects of value, including two valuable paintings which were missingfrom the Prado Museum three years ago. "

"Then my information has been of some little use to you--eh?"

"Of enormous use, Señor Garfield! You will no doubt receive anofficial letter of thanks from the Ministry of the Interior, " hereplied. "But we must act very warily. Despujol will not riskremaining here for long. Besides, some friend may telegraph to himthat the police have been to the Rue de Lalande!"

Once more it was upon the tip of my tongue to explain the manner inwhich I had become implicated in the evil deeds of Oswald De Gex andhis sycophants, when of a sudden he added:

"You must really forgive me, Señor Garfield, but you are an entiremystery to me. You have never been frank with me--never once!"

"I have been as frank as I dared, " I replied. "I tell you that I amhere to watch and to strive to elucidate a great plot--one whichconcerns myself and the woman I love. We have both been victims of avile and desperate conspiracy. "

"And whom do you suspect?"

"Oswald De Gex. "

"With what motive?" he asked, for he held the enormously wealthyfinancial friend of Spain in awe and admiration. 

"That, alas! is an enigma to me. I only know that he has made anattempt upon my life, and that at least one woman has been sent to thegrave by foul means. "

"Do you really infer that Señor De Gex is an assassin?" he askedincredulously. 

"I only tell you what I know, Señor Rivero, " I replied quietly. "Isaid that I would lead you to the secret abode of Despujol, and Ithink I have now fulfilled my promise, and shown you that he is onfriendly terms with the great financier whom you in Spain all hold insuch high esteem. "

"There is certainly no man more welcome in Madrid than Señor De Gex, "replied the police official. "At the Ritz, whether in his own name orincognito, he constantly receives our greatest politicians and mostprominent personages. Even the King has more than once commanded himto the palace, in order to confer with him upon acute financialproblems in the interests of our country. And yet you infer that SeñorDe Gex is an assassin!"

"I not only infer it, " I said, "but I openly allege it!" I addedhotly, as I thought of Gabrielle. 

Rivero glancing at me quickly raised his shoulders with a gesture ofdisbelief. 

"Very well, " I said. "At least I have proved to you that he is asecret friend of the notorious Despujol. Why is he here in Nîmes toconsult with De Gex and his friend the Italian, Moroni, if not forpurposes of evil? Despujol has made desperate war upon society, and itis De Gex who secretly finances him! Hence he is the servant of theman with money. "

The dark-faced Spaniard reflected. 

"Well, " he exclaimed at last. "What you have revealed is certainlymost interesting. "

"And if you wish to capture Despujol you must lose no time, " I assuredhim. "Remember, he and his gang have agents everywhere with eyes andears open. He will soon know of the raid upon his retreat inMontauban. "

"No doubt he will, " agreed my companion. "They will return presently, and then we will arrest him. In the meantime I will call upon theCommissary of Police. Come with me. "

We at once took a cab to the Prefecture where we were ushered into thepresence of Monsieur Coulagne, a rather tall, grey-haired elegant man, with the rosette of the Legion of Honour in his coat. 

When Rivero introduced himself the Commissary bowed to us both andbade us be seated. 

In a few quick sentences the Spanish detective explained the object ofhis mission, and producing his authority from the Spanish Ministry, requested the arrest of the infamous bandit Despujol. 

"But is Despujol actually in Nîmes?" cried the Commissary astounded. 

"He certainly is. I identified him on his arrival here at midday. "

"We have been searching for him for over two years. He is wanted, among other things, for the murder of Madame Lescot, a wealthy widowof Aix-en-Provence. "

"Ah! Then it is not a matter for extradition, eh?" remarked Rivero. "We want him for a dozen crimes of violence in Spain. He attempted thedeath of my English companion here, Monsieur Garfield--who will giveevidence against him. "

The Commissary pressed an electric button, whereupon his secretaryappeared. 

In a few rapid sentences the tall, elegant French official gaveorders, and the secretary retired at once to execute them. 

"Despujol is a desperate character. He is always armed, and possessesabnormal strength. He could strangle his strongest opponent, " Riveroremarked. 

"I have taken precautions, " replied Monsieur Coulagne, smiling. "Ihave ordered ten men in plain clothes to go at once unobtrusively tothe Hôtel du Luxembourg, and arrest him when he returns. "

"That will frighten De Gex and Moroni, " I said quickly. "And if theyare frightened they will escape!"

Rivero laughed. I knew that he entirely disbelieved my statement. Inhis eyes the wealthy friend of Spain could do no wrong. Did not hisKing invite him to conference, in ignorance, of course, of his truecharacter?

I was not surprised at Rivero's attitude, yet I had hoped thatDespujol's arrest would be effected without the knowledge of De Gexand his sinister medical friend. 

I pointed this out, whereupon Rivero remarked with sarcasm:

"If what you allege against Señor De Gex and his friend be true, theyought also to be arrested. "

"Yes. They ought, and they will be when I am able to bring forwardsufficient evidence to convict them, " I replied warmly. "Why, I askyou, should Oswald De Gex be in secret association with that dangerousbandit?"

The Spaniard merely shrugged his shoulders, while at the Commissary'srequest a dossier was brought in, and then they both went through along catalogue of crimes alleged to have been instigated or actuallycommitted by the man whom I had found in my bedroom, and who had socleverly deceived me. 

The list was a formidable one, and showed how elusive was the man whomthe police of Europe had been hunting for so long. 

Among the big batch of papers was a report in English from theMetropolitan Police at Scotland Yard stating that the individual inquestion had arrived in London on a certain date, and stayed with arespectable family at Ham, near Richmond, representing himself to be alawyer from Barcelona. Thence he had gone to Glasgow, where he stayedat a certain hotel, and then moved to Oban. Afterwards he had comesouth again to Luton, in Bedfordshire, where all trace of him had beenlost. 

"Well, " laughed Rivero triumphantly, "we shall take good care not tolose him now!"

"No, " said the Commissary of Police. "My men will be armed, and willtake him, alive or dead!"

"And De Gex and Moroni will then instantly flee!" I said, full ofregret that I had taken that step which might so easily result indestroying all my chances of solving that puzzling enigma of GabrielleTennison. 

Nevertheless, it was a source of satisfaction that at last Despujolhad, by my watchfulness, been run to earth. 

Suddenly the telephone at Monsieur Coulagne's elbow rang, and afterlistening, he exclaimed:

"The men are already posted round the hotel. So all we have to do isto await his return. "

Hence I went forth with Rivero and the Commissary. Led by the latter, we approached the Place de l'Esplanade through a labyrinth of narrowback streets until, on gaining the hotel, we saw idling in thevicinity a number of men who were apparently quite disinterested. 

We entered the hotel boldly, and drawing back to the end of thelounge, after a whispered word with the concierge, we waited. 

For a full hour we remained there in eager impatience, until suddenlya figure whom I recognized as Doctor Moroni showed in the doorway. 

He was alone!

He ascended to his room, where he remained for about ten minutes. Then, descending, he went to the bureau and inquired for the bill ofhis friend and himself, announcing his intention of departing forParis by the train which left in half an hour!

Rivero, who had been standing near him unrecognized, crossed quicklyto where with the Commissary I sat well back from observation, andgasped:

"They've gone! He is also leaving! Evidently they suspected they wereunder observation!"

"Ah! Despujol is a very wary bird, " replied Monsieur Coulagne, risingand walking out into the Place, where he whispered some hurried wordsto a stout, well-dressed man who was sauntering by, and who was hischief inspector. 

In a few moments more than half the lurking police agents haddisappeared to make inquiries at the railway station and in variousquarters, and when he rejoined us--Moroni having returned upstairs--hesaid:

"Despujol cannot yet have gone very far. I have given orders for allrailway stations within two hundred kilomètres to be warned. Let usreturn to my bureau and await reports. "

"And what about Moroni?" I asked. 

"He will be followed. I have already seen to that, " was the reply. 

Back at the Prefecture Monsieur Coulagne was soon speaking rapidlyover the telephone. Then we waited for news of the fugitive. None cameuntil about two hours afterwards the result of inquiries was told tous by an inspector. 

It seemed that on the previous day a large open car, driven by achauffeur, put into Carli's Garage, a big establishment in theBoulevard des Arènes. The chauffeur asked for a receipt for the car, saying that he had to go by train to Marseilles, and that his masterwould probably call for the car on the following day, and produce thereceipt. He asked that it should be filled up with petrol in readinessfor his master. About two hours before the police made inquiry threegentlemen entered the garage, the descriptions of whom tallied withthose of De Gex, Despujol and Moroni. De Gex produced the receipt forthe car. He paid for the petrol, and he and Despujol drove awaybidding farewell to Moroni! Despujol drove the car. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Rivero. "Despujol would not risk the train. He alwaysarranges a secret means of escape. In this case he prepared it on theday before. Without a doubt he knew that watch was being kept. "

"Or was it that De Gex knew that I was here?" I suggested. 

"Well, in any case, " remarked the Commissary of Police, "the pair havegot clear away, and though we will do our best, it will no doubt beextremely difficult to rediscover them. They will change thenumber-plates on the car, and perhaps repaint it! Who knows? Despujolis one of the most desperate characters in all Europe!"

"And Oswald De Gex is equally dangerous!" I declared, for I was stillno nearer the truth. 

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND

GABRIELLE AT HOME

I had been back in London a little over a week when I read in thepaper one morning a paragraph which possessed for me a peculiarinterest. It ran as follows:

 "The notorious Spanish bandit Rodriquez Despujol, who has for several years terrorized Murcia and Andalusia and has committed several murders, is dead. The police have been searching for him everywhere, but so elusive was he that he always evaded them. The celebrated Spanish detective Señor Rivero learnt a short time ago that the wanted man had been seen at Nîmes, where he cleverly contrived to escape by car. 

 "Certain clues came into the hands of the police, and by these Señor Rivero was able to trace the fugitive to Denia, not far from Valencia. He was hiding in a small cottage in an orange-grove just outside the town. The place was surrounded by police, but Despujol, discovering this, opened fire upon them from one of the windows and also threw a hand grenade among them, with result that two carabineers were killed and four others injured, among the latter being Señor Rivero himself. A desperate fight ensued, but in the end the bandit received a bullet in the head which proved fatal. 

 "A large quantity of stolen property of all sorts has been discovered in rooms which the criminal occupied in Montauban, in France. Despujol's latest exploit was an attempt to administer in secret a very deadly poison to an Englishman who was visiting Madrid. It was that attempted crime which aroused Señor Rivero's activities which have had the effect of ridding Spain of one of its most notorious assassins. "

I read the report twice. So the defiant Despujol was dead, and poorRivero had sustained injuries! Nothing was said of the powerfulfinancier's friendship with the bandit. 

When I showed it to Hambledon, he remarked:

"At least you've been the means not only of putting an end toDespujol's ignoble career, but also of restoring a quantity of veryvaluable property to its owners. "

"True, but it brings us no nearer a solution of the affair at StrettonStreet, " was my reply. 

Gabrielle's mother had returned to London, and that evening I calledupon her by appointment. I found her a grey-haired refined woman witha pale anxious face and deep-set eyes. 

When I mentioned Gabrielle, who was in the adjoining room, she sighedand exclaimed:

"Ah! Mr. Garfield. It is a great trial to me. Poor child! I cannotthink what happened to her. Nobody can tell, she least of all. DoctorMoroni has been very good, for he is greatly interested in her case. They have told me that you called some time ago and evinced aninterest in her. "

"Yes, Mrs. Tennison, " I said. "I feel a very deep interest in yourdaughter because--well, to tell you the truth, I, too, after a strangeadventure here in London one night completely lost my sense ofidentity, and when I came to a knowledge of things about me I was ina hospital in France, having been found unconscious at the roadsidemany days after my adventure in London. "

"How very curious!" Mrs. Tennison remarked, instantly interested. "Gabrielle was found at the roadside. Do you think, then, that thereis any connexion between your case and hers?"

"Yes, Mrs. Tennison, " I replied promptly. "It is for that reason I amin active search of the truth--in the interests of your daughter, aswell as of those of my own. "

"What do you suspect, Mr. Garfield?" asked Gabrielle's mother, as wesat in that cosily-furnished little room where on the table in thecentre stood an old punch-bowl filled with sweet-smelling La Franceroses. 

"I suspect many things. In some, my suspicions have proved correct. Inothers, I am still entirely in the dark. One important point, however, I have established, namely, the means by which this curious, mysterious effect has been produced upon the minds of both yourdaughter and myself. When one knows the disease then it is notdifficult to search for the cure. I know how the effect was produced, and further, I know the name of the medical man who has effected curesin similar cases. "

"You do?" she exclaimed eagerly. "Well, Gabrielle has seen a dozenspecialists, all of whom have been puzzled. "

"Professor Gourbeil, of Lyons, has been able to gain complete cures intwo cases. Orosin, a newly discovered poison, is the drug that wasused, and the Professor has a wider knowledge of the effect of thathighly dangerous substance than any person living. You should arrangeto take your daughter to him. "

The pale-faced widow shook her head, and in a mournful tone, replied:

"Ah! I am afraid it would be useless. Doctor Moroni took her toseveral specialists, but they all failed to restore her brain to itsnormal activity. "

"Professor Gourbeil is the only man who has ever been able tocompletely cure a person to whom orosin has been administered--andthat has been in two cases only. "

"So the chance is very remote, even if she saw him, " exclaimed thewidow despairingly. 

"I think, Mrs. Tennison, that Gabrielle should see him in any case, " Isaid. 

"I agree. The poor girl's condition is most pitiable. At times sheseems absolutely normal, and talks of things about her in quite areasonable manner. But she never seems able to concentrate herthoughts. They always wander swiftly from one subject to another. Ihave noticed, too, that her vision is affected. Sometimes she willdeclare that a vivid red is blue. When we look into shop windowstogether she will refer to a yellow dress as mauve, a pink as white. At times she cannot distinguish colours. Yet now and then her visionbecomes quite normal. "

"I have had some difficulty, Mrs. Tennison, in that way myself, " Isaid. "When I first left St. Malo, after recovering consciousness ofthe present, I one day saw a grass field and it appeared to be brightblue. Again, an omnibus in London which I knew to be blue was apeculiar dull red. So my symptoms were the same as your daughter's. "

"It seems proved that both of you are fellow-victims of some desperateplot, Mr. Garfield, " said the widow. "But what could have been itsmotive?"

"That I am striving with all my might to establish, " I answered. "If Ican only obtain from your daughter the true facts concerning heradventures on that fatal night last November, then it will materiallyassist me towards fixing the guilt upon the person I suspect. In thisI beg your aid, Mrs. Tennison, " I said. "I have only just returnedfrom several weeks abroad, during which I have gained considerableknowledge which in the end will, I hope, lead me to the solution ofthe problem. "

I then told her of my journey to Spain and afterwards to Nîmes. But Imentioned nothing concerning either Oswald De Gex or Despujol. 

At that moment Gabrielle, unaware of my presence, entered. She wasdressed in a simple grey frock with short sleeves and cut discreetlylow, and looked very sweet. On seeing me she drew back, but nextsecond she put out her slim white hand in greeting, and with adelightful smile, exclaimed:

"Why--why, Mr. Garfield! I--I remember you! You called upon me someweeks ago--did you not?"

"Yes, Miss Tennison, I did, " I replied as I sprang from my chair andbent over her hand. "So you recollect me--eh?"

"I do. They said that you would call upon me, " she replied, herbeautiful face suddenly clouding. 

"Who told you that?" I asked. 

"Doctor Moroni. He warned me that you were my enemy. "

I drew a long breath, for I discerned the depth of the plot. 

"Not your enemy, Miss Tennison, " I assured her. "But your friend--yourfriend who is trying his best to solve the problem of your--yourillness. "

"Yes, Gabrielle, dear, Mr. Garfield is certainly your friend. I knowthat, " declared her mother kindly. "Doctor Moroni must have beenmistaken. Why should he have warned you against meeting Mr. Garfield?"

I was silent for a moment, then I said:

"Of course, Mrs. Tennison, you have no previous knowledge of me. Youare taking me entirely at my own estimation. "

"When I meet a young man who is open and frank as you are, I trusthim, " she said quietly. "You know that woman's intuition seldom errs. "

I laughed. 

"Well, " I answered. "I am striving to solve the mystery of whatoccurred on the night of November the seventh--of what occurred toyour daughter, as well as to myself. "

Mrs. Tennison endeavoured to obtain from me a description of myadventure, but I managed to evade her questions. 

"I wonder why Doctor Moroni warned Gabrielle against you?" sheremarked presently. "It is a mystery. "

"Yes, Mrs. Tennison, it is all a mystery--a complete mystery to me whyDoctor Moroni, of all men, should take an interest in your daughter. He is certainly not a man to be trusted, and I, in turn, warn youagainst him. "

"Why? He has been so good to Gabrielle. "

"The reason of my warning is that he is her enemy as well as mine, " Isaid, glancing at the beautiful girl, whose countenance had, alas! nowgrown inanimate again. 

"But I do not understand, " Mrs. Tennison exclaimed. "Why should thedoctor be Gabrielle's enemy?"

"Ah! That I cannot tell--except that he fears lest she should recoverand reveal the truth--a serious truth which would implicate him. "

"Do you think he had any hand in the mysterious affair?"

"I certainly do, " was my reply, and then I told her of my journey toItaly, and of my discovery of her daughter with Moroni in Florence. 

"But how did you know my daughter?" she asked. 

"Because on that fatal night I saw her in a house in London. "

"You saw her! Where?"

"In the house of a mutual enemy. "

"Who?"

"Mrs. Tennison, " I exclaimed quietly. "At present I cannot reveal toyou more than I have done. Please excuse me. When I have fullyverified my suspicions I will explain all that occurred to me--allthat is within my knowledge. Until then, please remain in patience. "

"I never dreamed that Gabrielle had a single enemy in the world. Icannot understand it, " she exclaimed. 

"Neither can I, but the fact remains. The greatest care should beexercised regarding your daughter. Why did she meet that Frenchman inKensington Gardens?"

"I have only just heard about it, " was her mother's reply. "It appearsthat Doctor Moroni introduced them. She had only seen him oncebefore. "

Then, turning to the girl, her mother asked:

"What did he say to you?"

"He brought me an urgent and secret message from Doctor Moroni, telling me that there was a plot against my life, " she replied in aslow, mechanical voice. "The doctor sent word to me that Mr. Garfieldwould probably call and endeavour to be friendly with me, but that hewas my enemy, and I should have no dealings with him. "

"Ah!" I exclaimed. "So that was the second warning given you, MissTennison! It is more than ever plain that they fear lest, by meeting, we shall discover the plot and its instigators. What else did he say?"

"He told me that Doctor Moroni was still in Florence, but that hewould be coming to London again very soon, and that he would call. Heurged me at the same time to tell nobody that he had seen me, or thathe had warned me against you--not even my mother. "

"All that is in no way surprising, " I remarked, "for I happen to knowthat Monsieur Suzor and the doctor are on terms of closestfriendship--a partnership for evil. "

"How?"

"As I have already explained, Miss Tennison, I have not yet fullysolved the enigma, though I have learned a number of facts which, though they increase the mystery, yet they give some clue to thesolution of the enigma. "

"But their evil design?" asked her mother. 

"Their evil design is against us both, hence your daughter's interestshave become my own, " I replied. "My sole object is to bring to justicethose who have, for their own ends--no doubt for financial gain--beenguilty of the astounding plot against your daughter. You may believeDoctor Moroni and his friend Suzor as you will, Mrs. Tennison, but Ishall not withdraw from my present attitude. That they fear me isconclusively proved. "

"I quite see your point, " said the quiet-voiced, refined lady. 

"Then I do urge you to have a care of Miss Gabrielle, " I exclaimed. "If it is known, as it may be, that I have been here, an effort willsurely be made to close the mouth of one or other of us. These men aredesperate. I have already proved them so. Therefore we must takeevery precaution against surprise. "

"Why not go to the police?" suggested Mrs. Tennison. 

"Because the whole circumstances are so strange that, if I relatedthem at Scotland Yard, I should not be believed, " was my reply. "No. I, with my friend Mr. Hambledon, must carry on our inquiries alone. Ifwe are sufficiently wary and active we may, I hope, gather sufficientevidence to elucidate the mystery of your daughter's present mentalcondition, and also the reason why a similar attempt was made uponmyself. "

"Well, Mr. Garfield, " exclaimed the charming, elderly lady with asigh, "I only hope you will be successful in your quest after thetruth. This blow upon me is, I confess, a most terrible one. It is sodistressing to see my poor child in such an uncertain state ofmentality. Sometimes, as I have told you, she is quite normal, thoughshe has no knowledge of what occurred to her. And at other times sheis painfully vague and often erratic in her actions. "

"She must consult Professor Gourbeil, the great alienist, at Lyons. Hehas a wide knowledge of the symptoms and effects of orosin. "

The poor lady sighed, and with tired, sad eyes looked upon herdaughter, who had sunk into a chair with her pointed chin resting uponher palms. 

"Unfortunately, Mr. Garfield, I am not rich, " she said in a lowearnest tone. "I will give most willingly all I possess in order thatmy poor child be restored to her normal senses. But I have very littlein these post-war days, when everything is so dear, and taxationstrangles one, in face of what they told us during the war that theywere making England a place fit for heroes to live in! It seems to methat they are now making it fit for Germans and aliens to live in. "

"My dear Mrs. Tennison, our discussion does not concern politics, " Isaid, anxious for the future of the graceful girl whom I had grown tolove so dearly, even though her brain was unbalanced. At first Iregarded it as strange that being fellow-victims of Oswald De Gex andhis desperate, unscrupulous accomplices--who included the assassinDespujol--I had been drawn towards her by some unknown and invisibleattraction. But when I analysed my feelings and surveyed the situationcalmly I saw that it was not more extraordinary than in any othercircumstances when a man, seeing a woman who fulfills all his highideals, falls desperately in love with her and worships at her shrine. 

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD

THE DEATH-DRUG

It was July. 

The London season, later in these modern days, was already on thewane. The Derby and Ascot had been won, in glorious weather. There hadbeen splendid cricket at Lord's, fine polo at Hurlingham, and HenleyWeek had just passed. London Society was preparing for the country, the Continental Spas, and the sea, leaving the metropolis to theAmerican cousins who were each week invading London's big hotels. 

I was back at Francis and Goldsmith's hard at work as I had beenbefore my strange adventure, while Harry was busy at his legal work inthe police courts. 

From our windows looking across the Thames between the trees on thetowing path we had a wide view of the river with the chimneys of thefactories on the opposite bank. On the right was Putney, the startingplace of the University Boat Race, and on the left the greatreservoirs and the bend of the river behind which lay Mortlake, thefinish of the boat-race course. Each morning, when I rose and dressed, I looked out upon the wide and somewhat uninteresting vista, rackingmy brains how to further proceed with my campaign against the greatintriguer who could, by his immense wealth, juggle with dynasties. 

With Mrs. Tennison I had become on very friendly terms. Fearing toreveal myself as having taken that bundle of Bank of England notes asa bribe, I held back from her what had actually happened to me onthat fateful night. But I had become a frequent guest at LongridgeRoad, and often spent many delightful hours with Gabrielle, who attimes seemed quite in her normal senses. 

Yet, at others, she became vague and spoke in awed tones about whatshe had seen--"all red, green and gold. " And often I sat at homesmoking and wondering what she had seen that had so impressed her. Often, too, I discussed it with Mrs. Tennison and with HarryHambledon, but neither of us could suggest any solution of themystery. 

Mrs. Tennison, on account of the slump in securities owing to the war, was, I knew, in rather straitened circumstances. When I againsuggested a visit to the great specialist in Lyons she shook her head, and told me frankly that she could not afford it. De Gex had, itseemed, sought his victims among those who had been ruined by the war. 

She had, however, told me that her brother, a shipping agent living inLiverpool, who was Gabrielle's godfather, was deeply interested inher. 

I suggested that she should write to him and urge that, as a lastresort, Gabrielle should consult Professor Gourbeil. The latter hadbeen successful in restoring to their normal mental condition patientswho had been infected with orosin, that most dangerous and puzzling ofthe discoveries of modern toxicologists. 

Mrs. Tennison had acted upon my advice. Had I been in a financialposition to pay Gabrielle's expenses to Lyons I would have done somost willingly. But my journey to Spain had depleted my resources, andthough I had those Bank of England notes still reposing in a drawer athome, I dared not change one of them lest by such action I shouldhave accepted and profited upon the bribe which De Gex had so cleverlypressed upon me. 

In the first week of July Mrs. Tennison wrote to me, and that eveningI went over to see her after leaving the office in Westminster. 

It was a hot dry night when London lay beneath its haze ofsun-reddened dust after a heat spell, parched and choked. 

Gabrielle was out at the house of one of her school friends, hence, wesat alone together in the cool drawing-room--a room which wasessentially that of a woman of taste and refinement. 

A few seconds after I had entered, a tall, grey-haired man came in, whereupon Mrs. Tennison introduced him as her brother Charles fromLiverpool. 

The man glanced at me sharply, and then, smiling pleasantly, took myhand. 

"I have come up to see my sister regarding poor Gabrielle, " he said, when we were seated. "I understand that you have experienced similarsymptoms to hers, and have recovered. "

"I have not completely recovered, " I replied. "Often I have littlerecurrences of lapse of memory for periods from a few moments to aquarter of an hour. "

"My sister has told me that you believe that poor Gabrielle andyourself are fellow-victims of some plot. "

"I am certain of it, Mr. Maxwell, " I replied. "And I have alreadydevoted considerable time and more money than I could really afford inan attempt to solve the mystery of it all. "

"Can you explain the whole circumstances?" he asked. "I am deeplyinterested in my unfortunate niece. "

"I can relate to you a few of the facts if you wish to hear them, " wasmy reply. I certainly had no intention of telling him all that Iknew, or of the death and cremation of the mysterious GabrielleEngledue--whoever she might have been. 

So I explained practically what I had told his sister. I alsodescribed how Professor Vega at Madrid had told me of the two cureseffected by Professor Gourbeil, of Lyons. 

"My sister tells me that you suggest Gabrielle should consult him, "Mr. Maxwell said. "But she has consulted so many specialists. DoctorMoroni has been most kind to her. He took her to doctors in Paris andin Italy, but they could do nothing. "

"Well, I think that as Professor Gourbeil has cured two persons of thedeadly effects of the drug Miss Tennison should see him, " I remarked. 

"I quite agree. It is for that reason I have come to London, " he said. "I understand that you, Mr. Garfield, take a personal interest in myniece, therefore I want to ask you a favour--namely, that if I pay theexpenses would you accompany my sister and her daughter to Lyons?"

"Willingly. But I will pay my own expenses, please, " was my promptreply. 

At first he would not hear of it, until I declined to go unless I wentindependently, and then we arranged for our departure. 

Four days later we descended at the big busy Perrache station at Lyonsfrom the lumbering _rapide_ which had brought us from Paris, andentered the Terminus Hôtel which adjoins the platform. Later, from theconcierge, we found that Professor Gourbeil of the Facultés desSciences et de Médecine, lived in the Avenue Felix Faure, and Isucceeded over the telephone in making an appointment with him for thefollowing day at noon. 

This I kept, going to him alone in order to explain matters. 

I found him to be a short, florid-faced man with a shock of white hairand a short white beard. His house was a rather large one standingback in a well-kept garden full of flowers, and the room in which hereceived me was shaded and cool. 

I told him of Professor Vega's recommendation, whereupon he exclaimedin French:

"Ah! I know Professor Vega. We met last year at our conference inParis--a very brilliant man!"

Then, as briefly as I could, I explained how the deadly drug orosinhad been surreptitiously administered to Gabrielle and myself, and itseffects upon us both. 

"Orosin!" exclaimed the old savant, raising his thin hands. "Ah! Thereis not much hope of the lady's recovery. I have known of only twocases within my experience. The effect of orosin upon the human brainis mysterious and lasting. It produces a state of the brain-cells withwhich we cannot cope. A larger dose produces strong homicidaltendencies and inevitable death, and a still larger dose almostinstantaneous death. "

I told him how we both had lost all sense of our surroundings forweeks, and how we were both found at the roadside, she in Hampshireand I in France. 

"You were both victims of some plot; that is evident. Of course youhave invoked the aid of the police?"

I did not reply. I certainly feared to seek the assistance of ScotlandYard. 

He explained to me practically what Professor Vega had done regardingorosin and its terrible effect. 

"There have been other cases of its administration, " said the greatalienist. "Somebody must be preparing the drug and selling it forsinister purposes. Though it is so little known as yet that itsmanufacturer must be an expert toxicologist with special knowledge. "

"Have you seen many cases of its administration?" I asked eagerly. 

"Yes. Quite a number, " was the old Professor's reply. "I am incommunication with Doctor Duroc, of the Salpêtrière in Paris, andtogether we are keeping a record of the cases where orosin isadministered by some mysterious hand. Whose, we have no idea. We leavethat to the Sûreté. But you say that your adventure and that ofmademoiselle occurred in London?"

I repeated my story. Then I ventured to ask:

"Do you, Professor, know anything of a Doctor Moroni, of Florence?"

The white-bearded, shock-haired man reflected for a moment, and thenmoving in his chair, replied:

"I fancy I have heard his name. Moroni--Moroni? Yes, I am sure someonehas mentioned him. "

"As a toxicologist?"

"Probably. I do not really remember. I believe I met him at one of theconferences in Paris or Geneva. He was with one of your Englishprofessors--one of your medico-legists whose name at the momentescapes my memory. He gave evidence in that curious case of allegedpoison at the Old Bailey, in London, a year ago. "

"But is Doctor Moroni known as an expert in poison?"

"Not to my personal knowledge. Possibly he is, and I have heard hisname in that connexion. Why do you ask?"

"Because he has had my friend Miss Tennison under his care. He hastaken her to see several specialists in Italy. " Then in a sudden burstof confidence I told him of my great love for the girl who, likemyself, had been attacked in secret. Further, I told him that thereason of my steady inquiry was in her interests, as well as in myown. 

"My dear Monsieur Garfield, now that you are so frank with me I willdo my utmost in the interests of both of you, " declared the dear oldProfessor, as he rose and crossed to the window. "What you have toldme interests me intensely. I see by your travels to Spain and theSouth that you are leaving no stone unturned to arrive at a truesolution of the problem--and I will help you. Orosin is the leastknown and most dangerous drug that has ever been discovered in ourmodern civilization. Used with evil intent it is unsuspected andwellnigh undiscoverable, for the symptoms often resemble those ofcertain diseases of the brain. The person to whom the drug isadministered either exhibits an exhilaration akin to undue excess ofalcohol, or else the functions of the brain are entirely distorted, with a complete loss of memory or a chronic aberration of the brain. "

"That is the case of my friend Miss Tennison, " I said. 

"Very well. I will see her and endeavour to do what I can to restoreher, " said the elegant old French savant. "But, remember, I hold outno hope. In all cases orosin destroys the brain. It seems to create aslow degeneracy of the cells which nobody yet can understand. We knowthe effect, but we cannot, up to the present, combat it. There are yetmany things in human life of which the medical men are in as completeignorance as those who study electricity and radio-frequencies. We tryto do our best to the extent of our knowledge, my dear monsieur. Andif you will bring Mademoiselle to me to-morrow at three o'clock I willtry to make my diagnosis. "

I thanked him for his perfectly open declaration, and then I left. That he was the greatest living authority on the symptoms and effectof the mysterious drug orosin I felt confident. I only longed that hewould take Gabrielle beneath his charge and endeavour to restore herbrain to its normal function. 

Punctually at three o'clock next day I called with my beloved and hermother at the house embowered in roses and geraniums up on the hillabove the broad Rhône river. 

We were ushered in by an old man-servant, silent and stately. 

The Professor quickly appeared, his sharp eyes upon the patient. 

"I wonder if you will allow me, Madame, to take your daughter into myconsulting-room alone?" he asked in good English. "It will be best forme to question her without any other person being present. "

"Most certainly, " Mrs. Tennison replied. Then, turning to Gabrielle, she said: "The Professor wants to put a few questions to you, dear. Will you go with him into the next room?"

Gabrielle, pale-faced and tragic, looked at me strangely, and thenmeekly followed the old Professor into his consulting-room. 

The door was closed, and Mrs. Tennison waited with me in silence. Thewindow of the room was open and through it came the sweet scent of theroses and climbing jasmine, with the buzz of the summer insects andthe chatter of the birds, for the house was high up on that hill abovethe great silk-weaving capital of the Rhône. 

I rose and looked out upon the garden, so well ordered, for theProfessor was, it seemed, a lover of roses, the blossoms running rioteverywhere. 

Suddenly, as we remained in silence, we heard Gabrielle's voice raiseduntil she shouted fierce defiant words in English:

"No!" she shrieked. "It was not that--not that! You try and fix uponme a deed that I did not do! Why should you do this--why should you dothis!"

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, " we heard the Professor say in a quiet, calmtone. "Pardon. Please! I do not allege it. I have only asked a simplequestion. "

"Your question is insulting, doctor!" declared my beloved loudly. "Whyshould you insinuate such a thing?"

"Mademoiselle, I insinuate nothing, " replied the Professor. "I amendeavouring to ascertain the exact state of your mental balance. Youranger is, in itself, a most gratifying feature. A thousand pardons ifyou feel that I have insulted you, " he added with the extremepoliteness of his race. 

Then, through the folding doors which divided the apartments, we heardhim say:

"Will you please give me both your hands, and look directly into myeyes?"

There was a silence. 

We could hear the Professor sigh, but he made no comment. 

His examination occupied nearly an hour. He put to her many searchingquestions in an endeavour to restore her memory as to what happened, but without avail. Those questions seemed to perturb her, for of asudden she cried loudly, indeed she almost shrieked in terror:

"Ah! no! no! Save me!" she implored. "I--I can't stand it! I can't--Ireally can't! See! Look! Look! There it is again--all red, green andgold!--all red, green and gold!"

And we could hear her expressions of fear as she gazed upon someimaginary object which held her terrified. 

We heard the kindly old Professor putting many questions to her in anendeavour to discover what gave rise to that nameless horror which sheso often experienced, but her replies were most vague. She seemedunable to describe the chimera of her imagination. Yet it was only tooplain that on that fatal night she had seen something bearing thosecolours which had so impressed itself upon her mind as distinctlyhorrible that it constantly recurred to her. 

Yet she was unable to describe it, owing to her mental aberration. 

Time after time, she implored the Professor's protection from someimaginary peril, and time after time, after she had begged him toremain near her, she repeated those mysterious and meaningless words:

"Red, green and gold!--red, green and gold!"

In breathless anxiety we listened, but all we could hear were theProfessor's sighs of despair, which meant far more to Mrs. Tennisonand myself than any of his words could convey. 

We knew that upon poor Gabrielle, the girl I loved with all my heartand soul, the deadly drug had done its work--and that she was, alas!incurable!

Her case was hopeless, even in the hands of the one man in all Europewho knew the effects of orosin and had only in two cases effectedcures. 

I looked at her mother in silence. She knew my thoughts, for tearswere now coursing down her pale cheeks. 

Both of us knew the worst. Our journey had been in vain. 

That thought caused me to grit my teeth against De Gex and his unholyhirelings. I would follow and unmask them. I would avenge the innocentgirl whom I loved so dearly, even though it should cost me my life!

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH

YET ANOTHER MYSTERY

The first week in August was unusually hot and dry in London. 

Gabrielle and Mrs. Tennison had remained in Lyons, for ProfessorGourbeil had suggested that his patient should, as a desperateresource, remain under his treatment for a few weeks. He gavepractically no hope of her recovery. The dose of orosin that had beenadministered was, he declared, a larger one than that which De Gex hadintroduced into my drink on that night of horrors. 

The effect upon me had been to muddle my brain so that I had acceptedthose Bank of England notes as bribe to assist the mystery-man ofEurope in his foul and mysterious plot. 

My companion Harry Hambledon was still earning his guineas atHammersmith Police Court, gradually establishing a reputation. He hadbought a small two-seater car, and each Sunday he took Norah out forruns to the Hut at Wisley, to the Burford Bridge Hotel, where thegenial Mr. Hunt--one of the last remaining Bohemians of the days ofthe Junior Garrick Club--welcomed them; to the Wooton Hatch, or up tothose more pretentious and less comfortable hostelries on Hindhead. 

Motoring had roused a new interest in my friend. I loved the openroad, but with the heavy expenses I had recently sustained I could notafford it. Besides, my firm had just secured a big electric lightingcontract with the corporation of Chichester, and I was constantlytravelling between that city and London, sometimes by rail andsometimes in Mr. Francis's car. 

I suppose I must have carried on my work satisfactorily after thegenerous leave the firm--one of those stately old-fashioned ones whichhave still survived the war--had accorded me. But my thoughts wereever of my beloved Gabrielle, the beautiful girl whom, though her mindwas so strongly unbalanced, I yet loved with all the strength of mybeing. 

Every few days we exchanged letters. Sometimes Mrs. Tennison wrote tome from the quiet little pension in the Rue Paul Bert, in Lyons, buther letters were always despairing. Poor Gabrielle was just the same. She still had no other vista in life than her immediate one, and shestill in her reflective moments gave vent to that strange ejaculationof those mysterious words: "Red, green and gold! Red, green and gold!"

I confess that I went about my business in a low-spirited, despairingmood. More than once I passed by that dark forbidding house inStretton Street, the blinds of which were drawn, for ever since thewinter it had been closed with the caretaker in charge. Pass alongPark Lane and the Mayfair neighbourhood in August and you will see theHolland blinds drawn everywhere. The window-boxes filled withgeraniums and marguerites are drooping, for they have served theirturn and "the families" are out of town, enjoying themselves inScotland, in Norway, or at the French Spas. Honest Londoners may sweatand toil with their begrudged fourteen days at the sea or in thecountry, but Society, caring nothing for unhealthy trades or ill-paidlabour, unless a strike perchance affects their pockets or theircomforts, drifts to where it can flirt, dance or gamble amid gaysurroundings denied in London by our sanctimonious kill-joys. 

Whenever I passed along Stretton Street there spread over my mind thestrange and inexplicable events of that night when De Gex'sman-servant Horton had dashed out after me, and suddenly implored meto see his master. Ah! I saw the amazing cleverness of the wholeplot--a plot such as could only be conceived by a master brain. 

De Gex's dark, sinister, half-Oriental countenance haunted me in mydreams. True, he was a man who swayed the finances of Europe, suave, smiling, and with an extremely polished and refined exterior. But whySuzor had purposely become acquainted with me, and why I hadafterwards been enticed into that house of tragedy were, inthemselves, two points, the motive of which I failed to grasp. 

Late one evening I passed the house, going out of my way purposely todo so, when, to my amazement, I saw standing upon the doorstep, andabout to enter his car, no other person than Oswald De Gex himself. Behind him stood a strange man-servant, who at the moment seemed to betaking some instructions. 

In the darkness De Gex could not distinguish me. Therefore I drew backand watched the world-famous financier enter the car and drive away. 

So Oswald De Gex was back in London--and in August! I had passed thehouse on the previous afternoon and seen that as usual the fadedHolland blinds were drawn, just as they had been for months, anindication to callers that the owner was away. I looked again. Theblinds were still down!

Next day being Sunday I watched, and though at four o'clock in theafternoon De Gex came forth and strolled round to his club in St. James's Street, the blinds were still drawn, it being evident thatthe unscrupulous man who juggled with European dynasties was livingthere in obscurity--and in pretence of absence. 

Why?

My watchfulness was increased; my thoughts being ever upon theavenging of the injury done to the sweet girl I so dearly loved--thatpoor unfortunate creature whose brain had been destroyed by thedastardly administration of that poison only known to students oftoxicology. In my waking hours I conjured up scenes of how mother anddaughter, living in that obscure pension in busy Lyons, went each dayto the Professor's house, and how the kindly old savant did his bestto restore her brain to its normal activity. 

One hot day I had been to Reading on business for the firm, and onarrival at Paddington I bought an evening paper and took it home toRivermead Mansions. As usual Harry and I had dinner together, andafter he had gone out to Richmond, I sat by the open window whichlooked upon the towing-path beside the Thames, and with my pipe in mymouth, scanned the day's news. 

Of a sudden I came across a heading which attracted me, and read asfollows:

 "The sudden death is announced, at his house outside Amsterdam, of Baron Harte van Veltrup, the well-known Dutch financier, who for some years was in active association with the Spanish banker, the late Count de Chamartin. The Count died recently in San Sebastian just after he, with van Veltrup, had promoted a great railway scheme in Central Spain. The circumstances of the Baron's death appear to be somewhat mysterious, says our Amsterdam correspondent. Three days ago the banker, who is a widower, went to The Hague, where in a private room in an obscure hotel, he met a man on business. The meeting was apparently in secret, for he told his valet that he did not wish anyone to know of the mysterious visitor for a certain financial reason. The man remained with the Baron for nearly an hour, after which the financier went home in his car to Amsterdam, his valet driving. On the way the servant noticed that his master seemed very perturbed, once or twice muttering threats beneath his breath. 

 "On arrival at his house facing Vondel Park, he dressed, ate his dinner alone, and was about to re-enter his car to drive to the Park Schouwburg, where opera was being given that night, when he staggered and fell just outside the gate, and expired in a few moments. 

 "Though a medical examination proved that death was due to heart failure, some comment has been caused by the valet's story of his master's mysterious visitor at The Hague. The latter he describes as middle-aged, with a small dark moustache, a ruddy complexion, wearing round horn-rimmed spectacles. He thinks the latter were worn for purposes of disguise. 

 "Three doctors have, however, declared that death ensued from natural causes, hence the police discredit the valet's story. Baron van Veltrup, who was well known in international finance, was a frequent visitor to London, where he had permanent chambers in Jermyn Street. He was in the habit of receiving strange callers--persons who probably gave him secret information regarding Government concessions and other such matters. Therefore it is not believed that the man whom he met in secret has any connexion with his sudden and lamented death. The Baron contributed most generously to Dutch charities, especially to the Blinden Institution, of which he was one of the governors. 

 "Some of his financial deals were of outstanding magnitude. The last loan to Peru was made through his house, in combination with that of Chamartin, in Madrid, while he negotiated a big loan to Serbia immediately before the war, as well as obtaining the concessions for two new railways in Northern Italy and in Portugal. The reputation of the house of Veltrup was one of the highest standing, and the Baron's untimely death has cast a gloom over financial circles in all the European capitals. "

I raised my eyes from the paper and gazed across the Thames nowgrowing grey in the evening light. Outside, the soft wind whispered inthe trees and across the long suspension bridge ran an endless streamof motor traffic into and out of London. 

The affair in Amsterdam was certainly curious, but what attracted memost was the fact that the dead Baron had been a partner with the lateCount Chamartin, whose widow I knew by sight. The Count had also diedvery suddenly. So within a short time of each other two men whosenames were ones to conjure with in international finance had bothdied!

The valet's story I did not doubt. I knew that such men as the lateBaron were often compelled, in their own interests, to receive visitsfrom mysterious and often undesirable persons, most of whom were paidfor their information. Every giant of finance employs his secretagents, whose duty it is to keep his principal informed of thevarious political and other secrets in Europe. Indeed, the greatfinanciers know more of the underground currents of foreign politicsthan they do at any Embassy or Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It istheir duty to know the secrets of nations--and they profit upon theirknowledge. 

I sat ruminating. The sudden deaths of the two pillars of finance was, to say the least, a curious coincidence. I recollected that Chamartinhad been associated with De Gex, and the object of the latter'sjourney to Madrid had apparently been to interview his dead friend'swidow. I also remembered Professor Vega's description of the deadlyeffect of that secret poison orosin--that it might cause almostinstant death, and that all doctors would attribute the cause to heartfailure. 

This caused me to ponder for a long time. I read and re-read thereport of the Baron's death, and when I retired to bed--Harry nothaving yet returned--I could not sleep, so haunted was I by vaguesuspicions. 

Next day I found that I could not apply myself to work at the office, so gave it up and once more wandered towards Hyde Park Corner and upPark Lane where again I passed through Stretton Street. The blinds ofthe big dark mansion were all lowered, indicating that its owner wasstill out of town. Yet I knew that he was living in the half darknessof that closed house. 

Why?

Several days passed when, unable to rest, I at last asked leave ofabsence from old Mr. Francis, and crossed by the night-boat fromHarwich to the Hook of Holland. On the following day I found myself inquaint old Amsterdam, that city built upon the sand in defiance of acertain text in St. Matthew, the city with its great network ofcanals, and its many gaudily-painted barges. As I left my hotel andwalked to the Dam, the central square of the city, my nostrils weresaluted upon one side by the perfume of the flowers adorning thewindows and the odour of cook-shops, while on the other was the smellof tar and the fumes of the humble kitchens of sailing vessels. 

I happened to know an Englishman employed as clerk to a firm of Dutchforwarding agents whose offices were in the Dam, and this man, whosename was Graham, I at once sought. 

We went out to a café together, and I explained the object of myvisit, namely, the investigation of the death of Baron van Veltrup. Graham at once regarded me with considerable astonishment, for verynaturally he could not make out why I should take such a keen interestin the death of one of the richest men in Holland. 

"The Baron died of heart failure, " my friend said. "The doctors areagreed upon that. His valet told some extraordinary story, but nocredence has been placed in it. There has been a good deal in thepapers concerning the unfortunate affair, but the excitement has nowall died down. The Baron was, I believe, buried yesterday. "

"I know that there is no suspicion that death was due to foul play, Graham, " I said. "But I confess that in face of certain knowledge Ipossess I am not altogether satisfied with the doctor's conclusion. "

My friend smiled incredulously. 

"At first, the police were, I heard, inclined to suspect foul play. But after full investigation they are now quite satisfied as to thecause of death. "

"Be that as it may, I intend to make a few discreet inquiries, " Ireplied resolutely. "I want you, if you will, to assist me. "

He smiled again in undisguised disbelief. 

"Of course you are at liberty to express your own opinion, " he saidwith some reluctance. "And if you wish, I will assist you. But Ireally think, Garfield, that you will be only wasting your time--andmine. "

"I hope not, " I assured him. "Were I not in possession of certainexclusive information I should not venture to come here from Londonand trouble you, as I am doing. "

Graham, whom I had known for a number of years, looked very straightat me. 

"What is the nature of this exclusive information?" he inquired. "Youare concealing something, Hugh. "

"Yes. I know I am, " was my reply as I smiled at him. "I am here todiscover the truth regarding the death of Baron van Veltrup. "

"Then you suspect foul play--eh?" asked my friend. 

"Yes, I do, " I replied in a low voice, "and I want you, Graham, to putme in touch with the Baron's valet. "

"He is a man named Folcker, a Swede, according to the newspapers. Idare say I could find him. "

"If you can, you will assist me very much. I must have a chat withhim, " I said. "I feel somehow that in face of the strange facts withinmy knowledge that he can give me the clue to the cause of his master'sdeath. "

Graham smiled. He seemed to regard me as a person whose mind was notquite sound. But I will give him his due. He propitiated me, andpromised to get into touch with Oscar Folcker. By virtue of the wideramifications of the firm by which Graham was employed, I knew that itwould be an easy matter, hence I was not surprised when next day herang me up on the telephone to my hotel and told me that he had beenable to find the valet Folcker who would call upon me at six o'clockthat evening. 

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH

WHAT THE VALET KNEW

At the time appointed, as I stood in the hall, a tall, clean-shaven, rather spruce young man entered and spoke to the concierge, who atonce brought him over to me. 

I took him into a corner of the lounge, and when we were seated I toldhim of my suspicions and my quest. 

Like many Swedes he spoke English, and in reply said:

"Well, sir, I was in the Baron's service for five years, and I knewhis habits very well. He was an excellent master--most kind andgenerous, and with him I have travelled Europe up and down. We werevery often in London, where the Baron had bachelor chambers in JermynStreet. "

"I know that, " I said. "But tell me what you know, and what yoususpect concerning his untimely end. "

"There was foul play, sir!" he said unhesitatingly. "The Baron was astrong healthy man who lived frugally, and though he dealt in millionsof francs, yet he was most quiet in his habits, and his boast was thathe was never out of bed after half-past ten. Though very rich hedevoted nearly half his income yearly to charitable institutions. Iknow the extent of his contributions to the needy, for I have oftenseen him draw the cheques. "

"Well--tell me exactly what happened, " I asked. 

"The affair presents some very puzzling features, sir, " he replied. "One morning, while dressing, my master told me that he had to motorto The Hague as he wished to meet in strict secrecy a man who wouldcall to see him at a little hotel called the Rhijn, in the OranjeStraat. He asked me to drive him there so that Mullard, the chauffeur, should have no knowledge of the visit. This I promised to do, for Ican drive a car. We arrived early in the afternoon, and the Baron, whowas unknown at the obscure little place, ordered lunch for us both. Heate his in the private room he had engaged, and at about three o'clockthe visitor arrived. He inquired of the proprietor and was shown intothe Baron's private room. I judged him to be about forty, of middleheight, well-dressed, and wearing big round tortoiseshell glasses, like those Americans so often wear. He was red-faced and walked with aslight limp. "

"And what happened while your master was with the stranger?"

"The Baron came out and told me to go to the garage with the car, andI was telephoned for an hour later. When I met him again he seemed tobe in an ill and petulant mood, for he told me to drive back toAmsterdam with all speed. He also again made me promise to tell nobodyof the secret meeting. "

"And then?" I asked anxiously. 

"On arrival home he washed, dressed, and dined alone. Afterwards heput on his gloves, grey suède ones, ready to go, but exchanged themfor a pair of white ones, as he recollected that he was going to theopera. Then he walked out to the car, but suddenly cried, 'Oh! Myhead! My head!' and fell on to the pavement. I was just behind himwhen he did so, and hurried to get him up. But he was alreadyunconscious, and scarcely before we could get him into the house heexpired. "

"And why do you suspect foul play?" I asked. 

"I feel certain that my master did not die from natural causes, "declared the thin-faced man-servant. 

"You suspect that the individual in round spectacles had a hand init--eh?"

"I do. But how, I have no idea. The police pooh-pooh my suspicions. But if my suspicions are unfounded, why has not the stranger comeforward? There has been a lot about the affair in the papers. "

"Yes, " I said. "It certainly appears strange, for there can be nocause for secrecy now that the Baron is dead, even if some greatfinancial transaction had been involved. "

"My master often received very queer visitors, " said Folcker. "Once heentertained two very strange-looking shabby individuals when he was atAix-les-Bains with Mr. De Gex. "

"With Mr. De Gex!" I echoed. "Was the Baron a friend of his?"

"Yes, an intimate friend. They often had big deals together in whichCount Chamartin, who lived in Madrid, participated. "

"Ah! That is distinctly interesting, " I said. "Did the Baron, when inLondon, visit Mr. De Gex at Stretton Street?"

"Frequently. They were mutually interested in the great NetherlandsShipping Combine about a year ago, " replied the valet. 

"And you usually travelled with your master, I suppose?"

"Nearly always. We were frequently in Paris, Berlin, Rome, or Madrid, and naturally I learnt a good deal about his business. His mostintimate friend was Mr. De Gex. Do you happen to know him?"

I gritted my teeth, and replied in the affirmative. 

"A very charming man, " the valet declared. "He was always very good tothe servants. I used to look after him when he visited us here inAmsterdam. "

"Did you ever meet a friend of his--a Frenchman named Suzor?" I asked. 

"Yes, once. When we stayed with Mr. De Gex at Florence. He was afellow guest with my master. "

"And an Italian doctor named Moroni?"

Folcker shook his head, as he replied:

"I have no recollection of an Italian doctor. We were in Florence onlytwo weeks. "

"Of course you know Mr. De Gex's butler, a man named Horton?" I asked. 

"No, the man I know is named Farmer. I haven't been to Stretton Streetfor over a year. "

It would therefore appear that Horton was a new servant. 

"But have you any idea how your master died?" was my next query. 

"None--only something tells me that he fell victim to a plot for hisassassination. "

"Why?"

"Because he more than once told me that if he died certain personswould derive great benefits. "

"Who? His friends?"

"I suppose so. "

"Including De Gex?"

The thin-faced man shook his head, saying:

"Ah! That I cannot tell, sir. But I know that Mr. De Gex owed theBaron a very considerable sum over a financial deal regarding some oilwells in Roumania. Only a few months ago he mentioned to Mr. Grant, one of his friends, in my presence, that he hoped De Gex would verysoon settle with him. In fact he seemed annoyed at the delay in thepayment. "

This statement caused me to reflect deeply. 

Was it really possible that the Dutch Baron's death had been due tothe machinations of this mystery-man of Europe? The fact that he owedthe dead man money would serve as sufficient motive! I did notoverlook the deeply-laid plot against myself, one that must have sentme swiftly into my grave had it not been for my providential escape. 

The whole amazing facts, my meeting with Suzor in the express betweenYork and King's Cross, the trap set for me at Stretton Street, and myastounding adventures afterwards, all flashed through my mind. OswaldDe Gex was a most unscrupulous person who had climbed to fame andfortune over the ruined homes and bodies of his victims. I was now outto obtain direct and undeniable evidence of his crimes. 

Yet up to the present I could not go much further than mere surmise. Two of his business friends, Count Chamartin and Baron van Veltrup, had died quite suddenly. In the case of the latter, the valetexpressed a positive belief that his master had not died of naturalcauses. This was supported by the fact that the Baron received amysterious visitor at an obscure hotel at The Hague, a man who wasapparently disguised by big horn spectacles, and was certainly not aDutchman. 

And above all that, I held most conclusive evidence that both De Gexhimself and the dead bandit, Despujol, had used that deadly drugorosin to secure their nefarious ends. 

But the most irritating feature of the affair was that I was as faroff as ever from solving the mystery of what happened on thatmemorable night in Stretton Street, or with what motive I had beeninduced to give a death certificate that had enabled the body of anunknown girl to be cremated. 

I questioned the valet, Folcker, still further, telling him that I hadcome especially from London to endeavour to elucidate the truthconcerning his master's death. He was devoted to the Baron, and washighly incensed at the attitude taken by the Dutch police. 

"I will give you every assistance, sir, " he replied. 

"Excellent, " I said. "I would very much like to go to the Baron'shouse. Could you take me there?"

"Most certainly, sir, " was his response, and with willingness heaccompanied me in a horse cab up the cobbled Leidwche Straat with itsmany canals to the pleasant Vondel Park, just outside the city. Westopped before a great white house, square and rather inartistic, standing back behind very high iron railings, to which we wereadmitted by an elderly man-servant who was in charge of the place nowthat its owner was dead. 

Folcker showed me his master's handsome dressing-room which had beenleft practically as it was on the night of his tragic end. He showedme how the Baron had put on his evening clothes and descended to dine. 

He took me into the fine, handsomely-furnished dining-room, with biglong carved table in the centre, and showed me the small round tableset in the big bow window looking out upon the garden, at which theBaron always ate his meals when alone. 

"After finishing his dinner the Baron smoked one of his Petroffcigarettes which were especially made for him in Odessa, and thencalling me, he asked for his coat and told me to ring up for the car, "Folcker said. "He finished his cigarette and a glass of kümmel, at thesame time scanning the evening newspaper. All the time he had beeneating, however, he seemed in a very angry mood. The interview withthe stranger at The Hague had somehow upset him, for once or twice hemuttered angrily to himself. "

"Now tell me, Folcker, " I asked seriously, "when he entered thatlittle hotel at The Hague he waited for his mysterious visitor--did henot?"

"Yes, sir. "

"The visitor arrived and you saw him. I understand that your mastercame out and saw you during the interview?"

"Yes. About ten minutes after the stranger's arrival the Baron cameinto the little hall of the hotel and told me that he would notrequire me for an hour, or perhaps more. Apparently he did not wishthe car to stand outside the place for so long, lest it should berecognized. So he sent me to a garage. "

I hesitated. 

"Then the stranger was left inside the hotel alone?"

"Yes, sir, for two or three minutes. Why?"

We were standing out in the well-furnished hall and I glanced around. 

"Your master was in quite good health as he ate his dinner and smokedhis cigarette?" I remarked. 

"Quite. He came out of the room and standing here I gave him his hat, coat, gloves and stick. After he had put on his coat he drew on hisleft-hand glove. Suddenly he tore it off again, and rubbing hisfingers together impatiently, said: 'I forgot, Folcker! I'm going tothe opera, give me some white gloves. ' They were in the draweryonder, " the valet said, pointing to a great old carved Flemishcupboard. "So I got them out and handed them to him. He drew one ofthem on and walked down to the gate to enter the car, when he suddenlyfell upon the pavement outside. You see, just yonder, " and he pointedthrough the open door. 

"Why did he rub his fingers together, I wonder?" I remarked. "Was it ahabit of his?"

"Not at all, sir. He seemed to have a sudden pain in his fingers. "

"A pain. Why?"

"I don't know, sir. It has only this moment occurred to me. He flungoff the glove and tossed it upon the table. It's still there--as yousee. Then he put on the white gloves and went down the steps andcollapsed. "

"His head was affected?"

"Yes, he cried out twice that his head hurt him. The doctors attributehis death to heart failure. But, personally, I doubt it, sir! I'mcertain that there was foul play somewhere. "

I crossed to the great carved table which stood on the opposite sideof the wide hall, tiled as it was with ancient blue and white Dutchtiles, and from the table took up a pair of well-worn grey suèdegloves. They interested me, because after putting one on the Baron hadtorn it off and rubbed his fingers. 

"Is this the glove your master wore when he went to The Hague?" Iasked, selecting the left-hand one. 

"Yes, sir. "

I examined it closely and very gingerly. The exterior presentednothing out of the ordinary, but on turning it inside out, I found inthe index finger a tiny piece of steel which tumbled out upon thetable. 

It was apparently a piece clipped from the blade of a safety razor, and keenly sharp. Anyone inserting a finger into the glove wouldcertainly be cut by the razor edge of that sharp scrap of steel. As itlay upon the polished oak I bent to look at it, the valet alsostanding near and bending down in curiosity. 

Upon it something had apparently been smeared--some colourless jelly, it seemed. 

Had Baron van Veltrup fallen victim to orosin, wilfully administered?

That was my instant suspicion, one that was afterwards verified by thegreat Dutch pathologist Doctor Obelt, who lived in the Amstel Straat, and to whom I carried the mysterious but incriminating scrap of steel. 

"Without a doubt this piece of razor-blade has been impregnated with anew and most deadly poison, orosin, " he declared to me on thefollowing evening as I sat in his consulting room. "The police haveseen no mysterious circumstances in the unfortunate death of theBaron, who, by the way, was a very dear friend of mine. But now youhave brought me this piece of steel which you took from his glove, andwhich no doubt must have caused a slight cut to his finger and, inconsequence, almost instant death, I feel it my duty to take up thematter with the authorities. "

"I shall be much gratified, doctor, if you will, " I urged, speaking inFrench. "The valet's suspicions of foul play are entirely proved. "

"Yes, foul play, committed by somebody who possesses experttoxicological knowledge. I confess that this is the first time I havediscovered orosin. The hint you gave me caused me to search for it, and that I have found it is undoubted. "

Later that day I accompanied the doctor to the Bureau of Police, wherewe were met by a very stolid official who smoked a long thin cigar allthe time he talked to us. 

At first he treated the affair as of no importance. The medicalevidence had pronounced the Baron's death as having been due tonatural causes. The police could not interfere further, he declared. 

"Ah! but thanks to the Baron's valet we now have evidence of a mostsubtle and deadly poison, " declared the Dutch pathologist. "I certifythat I have found upon a small piece of sharp steel, which has beendiscovered in the dead man's glove, traces of orosin, one of the leastknown but most dangerous poisons. "

The heavy-jowled Dutch police official straightened himself in hischair. 

"Is that really so, doctor?" he asked in surprise, holding his cigarbetween his fingers. 

"Yes, it is, " Doctor Obelt replied. "The body must be exhumed, and anexamination made to ascertain if there is a small cut in the firstfinger of the left hand. If there is--then the Baron has been secretlymurdered!"

"The valet has alleged this all along, but there being no evidence wedisbelieved him, " said the official at once. 

"There is now evidence--direct evidence, " said the Dutch doctor. "ThisEnglishman here is interested in some way in the Baron's death, andafter discovering the scrap of razor-blade he brought it to me. "

The Dutch police official knit his brows, and turning to me, asked:

"Did you yourself discover this piece of steel?"

"I did. From certain facts within my knowledge I suspected that theBaron had been deliberately killed. The allegations of the valet, Folcker, strengthened my suspicions, hence I travelled from London andpursued my own independent inquiries, which have resulted in thediscovery of the little piece of blade inside the glove which theBaron wore when he went to interview his mysterious visitor at TheHague. "

"But what evidence have we that the mysterious visitor--theindividual who has been referred to in the report as the man with theround horn glasses--had anything to do with the affair?"

"According to the Baron's servant the visitor was left alone for a fewmoments in the room where van Veltrup had put down his gloves in orderto go out and speak to his valet, who on that day was acting as hischauffeur. It was in those moments of his absence that the unknownvisitor put the infected scrap of steel into the Baron's glove. "

"Did he not wear the gloves on his way back to Amsterdam?" asked thepolice official, as he laid down his thin cigar. 

"No, " I replied. "The valet is certain that instead of putting on hisgloves he thrust them into the pocket of his linen dust-coat. Folckersays that when his master returned he took the gloves from the pocketof the linen coat and placed them on the table in the hall--as was hishabit. It was only when the Baron was going out again that he put onthe left-hand one, and then suddenly drew it off and rubbed hisfingers. The first finger of his left hand had undoubtedly been cut, and hence infected with that substance which causes almost instantdeath and the exact symptoms of heart disease. "

"Orosin--did you say?" asked the head of the Amsterdam police. 

"Yes, " I replied. "Orosin--the most dangerous, subtle and easilyadministered poison known to our modern toxicologists. And your greatfinancier Baron van Veltrup has died by the hand of one who haswilfully administered it!"

"Well, " said the stolid man with the scraggy beard, ratherreluctantly, "I confess that this has come to me as a perfectrevelation. "

"You have only to order the exhumation of the Baron's body, and anexamination of the left hand, to be convinced that what thisEnglishman, Mr. Garfield, has discovered is the actual truth!"declared Doctor Obelt, whose reputation as a pathologist was thehighest in the Netherlands, and against whose opinion even the Chiefof Police of Amsterdam could raise no word. 

"It shall be done, gentlemen, " the stolid official assured us. "Itshall be done in secret--and at once. "

He was true to his word, for at noon next day I received an invitationto call again at the Police Bureau, and was there informed that asmall superficial cut upon the first finger of the left hand had beendiscovered. 

Therefore there was no doubt that death had resulted from foul play. 

If such were the case, it seemed more than probable that to Count deChamartin, the intimate associate of Oswald De Gex, a similar dose oforosin had been administered!

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH

MORE ABOUT MATEO SANZ

The means by which the unfortunate Baron van Veltrup had met with hisdeath was as ingenious as that practised upon me by the expert thief, Despujol. As I reflected upon all the details as related to me by thevalet, Folcker, I suddenly recollected that the Baron's strangevisitor, the man who must have placed that sharp scrap of razor-bladewithin his glove at the moment when the unsuspicious victim had goneoutside to speak with his servant, was described as a man with a redface and a dark moustache. 

A man who answered such description was the elusive friend ofMademoiselle Jacquelot, of Montauban, the motor bandit Mateo Sanz--theman who had so cleverly evaded the police, and who had no doubt beenan intimate friend of Despujol! In order to confirm my suspicions, Iat once telegraphed to Señor Rivero in Madrid, urging him to send me acopy of the police photograph of Sanz for identification purposes. That same day I received a reply which informed me that the photographwas in the post, hence I remained in Amsterdam awaiting its arrival. 

Four days later it was handed to me, a photograph taken in severalpositions of the rather round-faced, florid man whom I had seentalking to Mademoiselle at the station at Montauban--the man whomRivero had followed, but who, on the French police going to arresthim, was found to have fled. 

I carried the photograph to Folcker's lodgings and there showed it tohim. 

"That is the man who met my master, sir!" he cried unhesitatingly. "Only he wore round horn spectacles. His face and moustache are thesame. He was not Dutch. "

"No. This man is a Spaniard named Sanz, who is well known to thepolice, " I replied. 

"Then they should arrest him, for he is no doubt responsible for mypoor master's death. "

We went together to the Bureau of Police where the valet formallyidentified the photograph, and made certain declarations concerningthe malefactor in question. These he signed. 

"I happen to have seen this individual, " I explained to the policecommissary. "I was with Señor Rivero, head of the Spanish detectivedepartment, and we saw him at Montauban. But though Señor Riverofollowed him, he escaped. "

"Then he is wanted--eh?"

"Yes--for murder. "

The Dutch police official gave vent to a low grunt. 

"Very well, " he said. "I will have inquiry made. I thank you very muchfor the information. "

It seemed to me that he was annoyed because I had dared to dispute histheory that the late Baron had died from natural causes. He was astolid man, who, having once made up his mind, would not hear anyevidence to the contrary. 

With failing heart I saw that to move him was hopeless, so next day Ireturned to London, piqued and angry, yet satisfied that I haddiscovered the true cause of the Baron's lamentable death. 

Weeks passed. To pursue the inquiry further seemed quite hopeless. The summer went by, but Mrs. Tennison and her daughter still remainedin Lyons. The reports were never hopeful. My poor darling was just thesame. There recurred to her ever and anon a remembrance of those threecolours which haunted her--red, green and gold. 

The Professor was most kind, Gabrielle's mother wrote me. He dideverything in his power, and still persevered after failure uponfailure. 

"I fear poor Gabrielle will never recover, " she wrote in one of herletters. "The Professor is always optimistic, but I can read that inhis heart he has no hope. The next step will, I dread to think, behopeless imbecility!"

With that letter in my pocket I went to the office in Westminster eachday with leaden heart. The joys of life had become blotted out. Icared for nothing, for no one, and my interest in living further hadbeen suddenly swept away. 

Harry Hambledon, as we sat together at breakfast each day, tried invain to interest me in various ways. He urged me one evening to gowith him and Norah to the Palais de Danse, across Hammersmith Bridge, and I was forced to accept. But instead of dancing I sat at a sidetable and sipped ice drinks. Dancing had no attraction for me. 

Very fortunately we were extremely busy at the office. Four bigcontracts had been entered into by the firm for the lighting andtelephones for four new hotels-de-luxe, one at Bude, in Cornwall, onein Knightsbridge, another at Llandudno, in North Wales, and the fourthat Cromer. Hence I was compelled to be ever on the move between Wales, Norfolk, and Cornwall, and perhaps this sudden activity prevented mefrom brooding too closely over the hopeless condition of the girlwith whom I was so deeply in love. In these days electrical engineershave to be pretty active in order to pay their way, and though Francisand Goldsmith was an old-established firm, they were nothing if notup-to-date in their methods. 

One morning as I sat in a corner of the London-Exeter express on myway down to Bude, I read in my paper the following:

 "Mr. Oswald De Gex, the well-known international financier, is to be entertained on Thursday next to luncheon by the Lord Mayor and Corporation at the Mansion House. The Prime Ministers of Spain and the Netherlands, who are in London on official business, will be included among the guests. Mr. De Gex, though he has a house in London, is seldom here. He has recently been engaged in a great financial scheme to secure for England the whole of the output of the rich oil field recently discovered in Ecuador. "

So Oswald De Gex was still in London! I held my breath. With his wallof wealth before him he seemed invulnerable. I recollected those crispBank of England notes which still reposed in a drawer at RivermeadMansions--the bribe I had so foolishly accepted to become hisaccomplice in that mysterious crime. 

Gabrielle Engledue! Who was the girl whose body, because of my falsecertificate, had been reduced to ashes in order to destroy allevidence of foul play? Who was she--and what was the motive?

If I could only ascertain the latter, then I might be able toreconstruct the crime slowly, piece by piece. But as far as I couldsee there was an utter absence of motive. 

Long ago I had arrived at the conclusion that by the death of theunknown girl named Engledue, the unscrupulous financier had added someconsiderable sum to his bank balance. But how? His craftyunscrupulousness was shown by the manner in which his partner, to whomhe owed a big sum, had been cleverly secretly killed by a hireling--afriend of the dead Despujol. Oswald De Gex posed to the world as anhonest and upright man of business whose financial aid was welcomedcordially by all the hard-up States in Europe. He posed as aphilanthropist, and as such earned a big reputation in those countriesin which the operations of the all-powerful group he controlled werecarried on. 

But I knew his methods, and I sat staggered at the fact that theCorporation of the City of London were about to entertain him. Yetmoney counts always. Did not the Lord Mayor and Corporation onceentertain the man who gave a service of gold communion-plate to St. Paul's Cathedral, and who afterwards spent many years in one of HisMajesty's gaols?

My blood boiled within me when I read that announcement. Yet on calmerconsideration, I resolved to still wait and watch. 

I returned to London on the following Friday, and in the train I readof the splendid luncheon given on the previous day to thearch-criminal and the eulogistic speeches made by two Englishpoliticians and the two foreign Premiers. 

Oswald De Gex was declared to be one of the greatest financiers of theage, and there was a hint that a certain Allied Government was aboutto enlist his efforts with a view to extricate it from nationalbankruptcy. 

De Gex was a man who thought and spoke in millions. Accompanying thearticle was a photograph of him standing smiling beside the LordMayor as guest of the City of London. Oswald De Gex seldom allowedhimself to be photographed, but some enterprising Press photographerhad no doubt snapped him unawares. 

His hesitation to be photographed--public man that he was--was butnatural. Wherever you hear of people in the public eye, male orfemale, who will not allow their pictures to appear in the papers, youmay always suspect in that hesitation a dread of the raking up of somehidden scandal. Many a face which has looked out upon us from apictorial newspaper or a "back-page" of one's daily journal, hascaused its owner much terror, and in more than one instance a rushinto obscurity to avoid the police. 

Scotland Yard and the Paris Sûreté have many albums of photographs, and it is not generally known that each day their counterparts aresearched for in the daily journals. 

Oswald De Gex had on that memorable day become, against his will nodoubt, a lion of London. One heard nothing of Mrs. De Gex. She wasstill at the Villa Clementini no doubt. Her name was never mentionedin the very eulogistic articles which innocent men of Fleet Streetpenned concerning the man of colossal finance. One can never blameFleet Street for "booming" any man or woman. A couple of thousandpounds to a Press agent will secure for a burglar an invitation todine at a peer's table. Plainly speaking, in Europe since the war, real merit has become almost a back number. Money buys anything andanybody. 

I fear that, young man as I still am, I am a fierce critic of themanners of our times. I learned my, perhaps, old-fashioned ideas frommy father, an honest, upright, country parson, who loved to ride withthe hounds, who called a spade a spade, and openly denounced a liaras such. He never minced matters, and stuck to his opinion, yet he wasa pious, generous, open-hearted Englishman, who had no use for the"international financier, " who has lately become the pseudonym for aforeign adventurer. 

The autumn days shortened and winter was approaching, for the eastwinds blew chill across the Thames into my room as I shaved before mywindow each morning. Mrs. Tennison was still in Lyons, and HarryHambledon went each morning to his sordid work at the HammersmithPolice Court, either prosecuting or defending in small cases. Hiseloquence and shrewdness as an advocate had more than once beencommented upon by the stipendiary, hence he was gradually working upquite a lucrative practice. 

Things drifted along till the end of October. De Gex was living atStretton Street, very occupied, I ascertained, in arranging a greatdevelopment scheme for Liberia, that independent State in West Africa. 

In the City he was constantly expressing his regret at the unfortunatedeaths of his partners, Count de Chamartin, of Madrid, and the Baronvan Veltrup, of Amsterdam, but he had expressed himself ready to carrythe great deal through himself, though it involved the speculation ofnearly two millions sterling. 

I could hardly take up any newspaper--neither could you, my reader, for that matter--unless I saw De Gex referred to, under another name, of course. He went here and there, the guest of a Cabinet Minister, playing golf with a Leader of the House, or spending a week-end with aDuke, until it seemed that the world of Society had at last prevailedupon the mystery-man of millions to emerge from his shell and take uphis position in Mayfair. 

When I saw that he was the guest of certain hard-up members of thearistocracy, or of war profiteers, who, dropping their aitches, hadbought ancestral homes, I merely smiled at the ignorance of those whowere entertaining one of the greatest criminals in Europe. 

In the watch I kept each evening upon the house in Stretton Street myfriend Harry Hambledon assisted me. As we lurked in doorways in thevicinity, we saw the great ones of London Society, of both sexes, going and coming, for Oswald De Gex had now commenced to entertainupon a lavish scale. He gave smart dinner-parties and musicalevenings, which the most exclusive set enjoyed. 

One night, after it had grown dark, I sauntered along Park Lane, aswas my habit, and having turned into Stretton Street noticed a rathershabbily dressed man, evidently a foreigner, descending the steps fromDe Gex's door. He turned in my direction, and we came face to face. 

In an instant I recognized him as the Spaniard, Mateo Sanz! He hadnever seen me before, therefore, when at a respectable distance, Iturned and followed him along to a street off the Edgware Road, wherehe entered a third-class private hotel. 

What, I wondered, was his object in visiting De Gex unless some otherplot was in progress? I, however, did not intend, now that I knew thetruth concerning the death of the Baron in Amsterdam, that theassassin should escape. Hence I took a taxi to Scotland Yard where Iwas interviewed by a detective-inspector to whom I revealed thehiding-place of the much-wanted criminal. 

He thanked me, and then began to inquire what I knew concerning him. In return, I told him of my friendship with the great Spanishdetective Rivero, and how, with the latter, I had seen Sanz at thestation at Montauban. 

Presently he rose, and telling me he would search for any request fromthe Spanish Government for the man's arrest, he left me. 

He returned a quarter of an hour later with some papers in his hands, and said:

"I find that the Madrid police have applied to us for thisindividual's arrest, and here is his photograph, " and he showed me onesimilar to that which Rivero had sent me to Amsterdam. 

I, of course, made no mention of Oswald De Gex, but it suddenlyoccurred to me that if Sanz were arrested De Gex might take fright, soI suggested that the Spaniard be kept under surveillance until theSpanish police were communicated with. 

"I believe Señor Rivero suspects that Sanz is one of a very dangerousgang, " I said. "If so, it would be well to arrest them all. "

"Are the others in London, do you think?" asked the tall, dark-hairedofficial of the Criminal Investigation Department. 

"Ah! That I do not know, " was my reply. "I only know that Mateo Sanzis a very dangerous person, who has been wanted for several years. "

"Well, we thank you very much for your information, sir, and we shallact upon it at once, " he replied. And then I went along the stonecorridor and out again into Parliament Street, well satisfied that Ihad, at last, placed one of the criminals in the hands of the police, who would, in due course, learn the true facts concerning Baron vanVeltrup's mysterious end. 

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH

A CURIOUS STORY

At Scotland Yard they acted upon my suggestion, and at once sent awireless message to Señor Rivero in Madrid, telling him of thediscovery of the notorious Mateo Sanz. 

In the meantime my curiosity was further aroused by a note sent to meby Mrs. Tennison's servant, Mrs. Alford, next day, saying that DoctorMoroni had called at Longridge Road and that, finding Miss Gabrielleabsent, he had put to her a number of questions concerning myself. 

"As I promised you, sir, " the woman wrote, "I pleaded ignorance ofeverything. He was apparently astonished to find my mistress and MissGabrielle away. He asked me for their address, but I replied that theywere moving from place to place on the Continent. He seemed mostannoyed, and went away. "

I wondered what was his object in going to Longridge Road, if not forthe purpose of some further evil work. Though he pretendedfriendliness towards Gabrielle, yet I knew that he was her enemy, justas he was mine. 

Moroni was in London, hence he would no doubt visit De Gex. Hambledonwas unknown to Moroni, therefore he watched in Stretton Street on thefollowing night, and in his work of observation he was assisted byNorah, who had been told something of the strange circumstances, though of course not the whole amazing story. 

Just before eleven o'clock Harry and his fiancée arrived at RivermeadMansions in a taxi and told me that they had seen Moroni arrive atStretton Street about half-past nine. He was admitted by a new andrather supercilious man-servant--for Horton did not now seem to be inthe great man's employ. 

"Ten minutes afterwards Suzor arrived, " Harry said. "Then about halfan hour later Moroni came out. "

"I was passing the house slowly when he came down the steps mutteringfiercely to himself in Italian, " Norah said. "He took no notice of me, for he seemed extremely angry and excited. Indeed, as he left, heglanced back at the house, his hands clenched, and he seemed to invokea curse upon it. "

"By Jove!" I gasped. "That's interesting! The precious trio haveperhaps quarrelled!"

"Perhaps, " said Hambledon. "And as a lawyer I venture to predict thatif they really have we shall, ere long, obtain some very interestingdisclosures. "

Norah stayed and had some supper, for we were all desperately hungry, and later on Harry saw her back to Richmond. 

Three days later, in consequence of a message sent to me from theHotel Cecil, I went home early from the office to Rivermead Mansions, and had only been in five minutes when the door-bell rang. 

On opening it I found my expected visitor, Señor Rivero. 

"Ah! my dear friend!" cried the good-humoured police official, as hewrung my hand warmly. "So I have found you at last! The taxi-man madea mistake in the address and took me further down the road. Well, soyou have been doing good business for us--eh? You have found MateoSanz!"

"Yes. I recognized him, " I said. 

"I have just been with Superintendent Risden, of Scotland Yard, and wehave seen our friend whom we have wanted for so long. He is quiteunsuspicious. But I am told that two days ago he visited the house ofMr. De Gex. "

"Yes, he is his friend, just as Despujol was, " I remarked. 

"But I cannot understand that!" Rivero declared. "It seems incrediblethat a person of such high standing as Mr. De Gex should numberbandits among his friends!"

"I revealed to you the truth concerning De Gex when we were in Nîmes, "I said. "Even then you were half inclined to disbelieve it. Now youknow the truth. The two business partners of Oswald De Gex, the Condede Chamartin, of Madrid, and the Baron van Veltrup, of Amsterdam, haveboth died suddenly--and at the instigation of their unsuspectedfriend! It has been proved that Sanz introduced the tiny scrap ofinfected razor-blade into the Baron's glove. "

"At De Gex's instigation?--impossible!"

"De Gex was the only person to profit by the Baron's death, " I pointedout. "He owed a large sum to the Baron over a financial deal, and bythe latter's death, and the destruction of certain papers, he nowescapes payment. "

"But you surely do not allege that Mr. De Gex resorts to the use ofthis little known and unsuspected poison in order to secure his ownends!" cried the famous detective, as he sat opposite me in aneasy-chair. 

"When we know the truth--as I hope we may very soon--then you will bestaggered, " I assured him. "At present you do not know the whole ofthe amazing story. For certain private reasons I have been unable toreveal it to you. But slowly, piece by piece, I have been steadilyworking upon the mystery of certain amazing occurrences at De Gex'shouse in Stretton Street. By slow degrees, and after travelling upand down Europe, I have at last succeeded in finding just a streak ofdaylight through the impenetrable barrier so cleverly contrived inorder to mystify and mislead me. If you desire to ascertain the greatramifications of the desperate plots conceived by De Gex and hisfriends, and take steps to combat them, it will be best to allow hisaccomplice Sanz further liberty. Keep vigilant watch, but do not allowhim to suspect, " I urged. "He will no doubt go to Stretton Streetagain. Sanz, though a hired assassin as was his friend Despujol, should not be arrested yet, for the longer he remains at liberty themore extensive will be our information against the arch-schemer ofEurope, Oswald De Gex. "

Rivero spent the evening with me. We dined at the Clarendon, acrossHammersmith Bridge, and afterwards we idled in one of the foreigncafés near Piccadilly Circus. 

He was in London with a warrant for the arrest of Mateo Sanz in hispocket. But at my suggestion he stayed his hand. Meanwhile Sanz, allunsuspecting, was being carefully watched, not only by twodetective-sergeants from Scotland Yard, but also by two Spanishdetectives whom Rivero had brought to London with him. 

Two days later, in response to a message from Rivero, I called at theHotel Cecil on leaving the office. He met me in the marble-pavedentrance hall, and I noticed at once a grave expression upon his face. 

"Come up to my room, " he said in French. "We can talk quietly there. "

In surprise I went with him up in the lift to the third floor where, in a bedroom which overlooked the Embankment and the Thames beyond, heturned suddenly to me and exclaimed, still in French:

"I am very troubled and mystified, Monsieur Garfield. When you madethose curious allegations against Monsieur De Gex I confess that Ilaughed them to scorn, but I have to-day learned several facts whichput an entirely fresh complexion upon the present circumstances. Lastnight Mateo Sanz visited De Gex again. The financier gave a musicalevening, but after the departure of all the guests, Sanz called andwas at once admitted to De Gex's library. "

"Ah!" I exclaimed. "I know that room. I have sad cause to rememberit!"

"He remained there till nearly two o'clock in the morning. Then hereturned on foot to his hotel. My information is that on his walk backhe was whistling to himself, as though in high spirits. "

"But that is surely no extraordinary circumstance!" I remarked. "Did Inot tell you that De Gex is as friendly with Sanz as he was withDespujol?"

"I know. But in face of other facts I have learnt, the problempresented is an amazing one. "

As he spoke a tap came upon the door, and a page-boy handed in a card. 

"Show the gentleman up, " Rivero said in his broken English. 

"Here is someone who will relate some very strange facts. He is myfriend Gonzalez Maura, an advocate who practised in Madrid before hisappointment to our Consulate here. I called at the Consulate yesterdayand saw him, when he related to me some curious facts which I haveasked him to repeat to you. He is here for that purpose. "

A few moments later the page-boy ushered in a middle-aged, well-dressed, black-bearded man who bowed elegantly when we wereintroduced. 

"Now, my dear friend, " exclaimed Rivero, when we were all threeseated. "Will you please tell Mr. Garfield what you explained to meyesterday. "

"Certainly. I merely tell you what I know, " he replied in very fairEnglish. "It is like this. Before I left Madrid I was very friendlywith a country lawyer named Ruiz Serrano, who lived at Valladolid. Forsome reason the late Count de Chamartin took a great fancy to myfriend, and constituted him his legal adviser, an appointment whichbrought him in quite a large income. To the lawyer of a greatfinancier fees are always rolling in. The Count naturally took Serranointo his confidence and told him how, years ago, he had married thedaughter of an Englishman in rather humble circumstances, living inMadrid. A daughter was born to them, but later he divorced his wife, who died soon afterwards, and then he married a lady of the Madridaristocracy, the present widow. Apparently he made a will leaving thewhole of his fortune to his daughter by his first wife--save for asmall annuity to his second wife--and according to the will, on thedeath of his daughter the fortune was to go to his trusted partner, your English financier, Mr. Oswald De Gex. "

I sat staring at the stranger, but uttered no word, for I wasreflecting deeply. 

"Señor Serrano arrived in London a week ago, and came to consult meregarding the will, because it seems that the Count's daughter--whocame here to learn English, she having lived in Madrid all herlife--is dead. "

"Hence De Gex has inherited the Count's fortune?" I gasped. "What wasthe girl's name?"

"Her name was, of course, Chamartin, but in obedience to her father'swish, after the divorce she took her mother's maiden name, and wasknown as Gabrielle Engledue. "

"Gabrielle Engledue!" I echoed. "_Gabrielle Engledue!_"

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH

LOVE THE CONQUEROR

The sudden revelation of the motive of the crime at Stretton Streetstaggered me. 

An hour later I saw the Count's lawyer, Señor Serrano, at his hotel inRussell Square, and from him learned much more regarding his lateclient's disposition of his property. The Count had apparently notbeen on very affectionate terms with his second wife, which accountedfor him leaving the bulk of his fortune to his daughter Gabrielle, andin case of her death, to his partner De Gex, whom he had, of course, believed to be an honest man. 

The Count had died suddenly several months before his daughter. He haddied from orosin, no doubt administered by someone in De Gex's pay. Then almost before the will could be proved in the girl's favour, Señor Serrano learned that the girl herself had died in England. Sincethen he had been constantly occupied in straightening out his lateclient's affairs, and had now come to London for the first time inorder to see Oswald De Gex, who had been constantly pressing for asettlement of the estate. He had seen him on the previous day, when heappeared to be anxious that the affair should be cleared up. 

"As he spoke of his late partner, and of his daughter, tears came tohis eyes, " said the Spanish lawyer, speaking in French. 

Tears in the eyes of Oswald De Gex! I smiled at the thought. 

As for Rivero he now became just as puzzled as I was myself. 

To me the motive of poor Gabrielle Engledue's death was now quiteapparent, and, moreover, it seemed that the reason De Gex required aforged death certificate was because he was not exactly certainwhether by a post-mortem examination any trace of the drug could befound. He was not quite sure that one or other of the great Londonpathologists might not identify orosin. With the Count's death on theContinent he had taken the risk, well knowing that any ordinary doctorwould pronounce death as being due to heart failure, as indeed it was. In London, however, he felt impelled to take precautions, and theywere very elaborate and cunning ones, as I now knew. 

With the motive thus apparent, I felt myself on the verge of triumph. Yet without full knowledge of what occurred to my poor beloved on thatnight how could I denounce the arch-criminal whose favours were nowbeing sought by the great ones of the land. 

I was still in a quandary. I had established to my own satisfactionthat Tito Moroni, the doctor of the Via Cavezzo, was the person whohad distilled the orosin, and who had no doubt introduced it to hiswealthy but unscrupulous patient as a means of ridding himself ofunwanted persons and enriching himself at the same time. Indeed, thesefacts were eventually proved up to the hilt. 

The motives for the deaths of the Conde de Chamartin, his daughter, and the philanthropic Dutch financier, were all quite plain, but, ofcourse, I had said nothing to Rivero, or to anybody else, regarding myacceptance of a bribe to assist De Gex in the committal of a crime. 

I confess that on that night of horror I had no suspicion of foulplay, for knowing the great financier as a person of very highstanding, I naturally believed the story of his niece's sudden death. It was not until I found myself in the hospital at St. Malo that Irealized how cleverly I had been tricked. The drug had beenadministered to me in just sufficient dose to ensure that my brainshould be affected, and that any story I might afterwards tell shouldbe discredited. 

Happily, however, I had now nearly completely recovered. I was thethird person known to return to their normal senses after a dose oforosin. Would there be a fourth?

Three further days went past, watchful, anxious days. De Gex was stillat Stretton Street, apparently quite unconscious that his hirelingSanz was being kept under close surveillance. Another plot was inprogress, without a doubt. Twice again had the elusive Spaniard, whowas such a close friend of the notorious Despujol, visited StrettonStreet. 

It seemed, too, that De Gex, though anxious to return to Italy, stillremained in London in the hope that Señor Serrano would arrange forthe immediate transfer of the Count's property. 

One could scarcely take up a newspaper without finding that Oswald DeGex had attended this function or that, for he was apparently courtingthe favours of certain high political personages, no doubt with a viewto a place in the next Honours List. 

I smiled within myself as I read of all the great man's doings, of hisvast financial interests, of his estates in England and in Italy, andhis assistance to the Ministry of Finance of Spain. Often indeed whenat home I discussed the situation with Hambledon, yet without theevidence of Gabrielle Tennison we could not act. 

Nearly a week had passed since my first meeting with the Spanishlawyer Serrano. Tito Moroni had apparently returned to Italy, for hehad not been again to Stretton Street. His last visit there had nodoubt resulted in a quarrel with his wealthy client, whom I hadsuspicions he was blackmailing, for such would undoubtedly be theprocedure of a blackguard of his calibre. More than once Rivero seemedanxious to secure the arrest of Mateo Sanz, but I constantly urged himto remain patient. He frequently begged me to reveal the true extentof my knowledge, but I always evaded his questions because I was notyet in a position to make a triumphant coup, and avenge poorGabrielle. 

Daily, hourly indeed, was she in my thoughts. The letters I receivedfrom Lyons were the reverse of hopeful. The last one indeed reportedthat little or no progress had been noted during the weeks she hadbeen under the care of the kindly old professor. 

One evening, on returning from the office, I found upon the hall-tablea note in Mrs. Tennison's well-known hand. It had been written fromLongridge Road a few hours before, and in it she asked me to call thatevening as they had returned from France. 

Naturally I lost no time in dashing over to Earl's Court, and withfailing heart I entered the well-remembered artistic littledrawing-room where Gabrielle herself, in a cool frock of cream washingsilk trimmed with narrow edgings of jade green, rose smiling to greetme. 

Her face was changed, for her countenance was now bright andvivacious, and her eyes merry and sparkling. The hard set expressionhad gone, and she looked very alert and indescribably sweet. 

"Well, Mr. Garfield!" she cried merrily, shaking my hand in warmwelcome, so different from her usual apathetic attitude towards me. "You see we're back again! Mother has just gone round to Aunt Alice'sin Cromwell Road, but she told me that you would call. "

"Well, Miss Tennison!" I exclaimed, holding her soft little hand inmine, and looking into her eyes. "I hope--I hope that you feel better. Indeed, you look quite changed!"

"Yes. I can recollect everything now! All the past has come back tome, thanks to the old Professor. He was so very kind, and so patientthat I can never thank him sufficiently--or you, Mr. Garfield, fordiscovering him. I feel quite myself again. And it was all so sudden. At first, the treatment gave me no relief, my brain seemed so muddled, but quite suddenly one day I found that I could recollect thepast--all that happened to me on that terrible night. And in threedays the Professor announced that I had quite recovered!"

My heart leapt with joy! She was cured!--cured!

"Tell me all that you recollect regarding the events of that night, " Iurged breathlessly as we sat together in the little Londondrawing-room. I looked at her countenance and realized now that it wasfull of life and animation, how very beautiful she was. How differentfrom when I had seen her half dragged along the streets of Florence byher pretended friend Moroni. 

But justice was at hand. So I urged her to tell me exactly whathappened. I give it to you, my reader, in my love's own words, just asshe related it to me. 

"Well, " she said, drawing a long breath. "One night about twelvemonths ago I was at a private dance at the house of a friend inHolland Park, when I was introduced to a young married woman namedCullerton, the wife of a man on the Stock Exchange. I rather likedher, and as she invited me to a small dance which she gave a weeklater we soon became friends. One day, while we were walking togetherin Bond Street we met Mr. De Gex, the great financier, to whom sheintroduced me. His car was standing at the kerb, so he took us back totea at his house in Stretton Street. While we were at tea a tall, darkSpanish-looking girl came in and was introduced to us as GabrielleEngledue. As we sat at tea we laughed over the similarity of ournames, and she told me that though her mother had been English she hadlived all her life in Madrid, and had been over here for the purposeof studying English. She had been staying with a family somewhere inEssex, but was now at an hotel in London, for she was returning toMadrid in a few days. I rather liked her, and as Mr. De Gex wascharming to us both, I accepted his invitation to dine there a fewdays later. I did not tell mother about this, for I feared that beingrather old-fashioned she might disapprove of my new friendships. Wehad a delightful dinner, and Mr. De Gex took us all three to thetheatre afterwards, and drove each of us home. I was the first, and heput me down at the corner of Earl's Court Road. 

"On the night of November the seventh at very short notice Mr. De Gexhad again invited Miss Engledue and myself through Mrs. Cullerton todinner, for she was leaving for Madrid next day, her luggage havingalready been sent to the station cloak-room, she told me. Weunderstood that Mr. And Mrs. Cullerton were also coming. We did notput on dinner-dresses as Mr. De Gex said he intended to take us to ashow at Olympia afterwards. I was, I know, foolish not to tell motherwhere I was going, but the reason for it I have already explained. When I arrived at Stretton Street, after my dancing lesson, GabrielleEngledue was already there chatting with Mr. De Gex in the library. Hetold me that he had just received a telephone message from Mr. Cullerton saying that his wife had been taken rather unwell andtherefore could not come. So we three sat down, the only other guestbeing a man I now recollect as one who afterwards proved my friend, Doctor Moroni. 

"The meal was quite a merry one for Mr. De Gex was quite a lady's manwhen his wife was absent. At that time I understood that Mrs. De Gexwas remaining in Italy. The meal was served by a man whom the greatfinancier addressed as Horton, and just before coffee was brought in Irecollect that Moroni left the table and went to the telephone. Then, on his return, the man Horton brought in the cups which were alreadyfilled. The man put down a cup before me, but De Gex noticing that itwas a little too full, politely exchanged his for mine. 

"We were chatting, and Mr. De Gex had just said that it was about timewe were off to Olympia, when I sipped my coffee. I noticed that bothDoctor Moroni and our host glanced at me curiously. The coffee tastedunusually sweet, and also it seemed to be slightly perfumed, Iremember, almost like _pot-pourri_. I had just replaced the cup uponthe table when I felt a most violent pain in my head, and cried out. Miss Engledue was at my side in an instant, but I felt a sensation ofgiddiness, and next moment I knew nothing more. "

I remained silent for a few seconds, thinking deeply over herremarkable story. 

"Then Miss Engledue was quite well at the time?" I asked. 

"Quite, she sprang to my assistance. "

"Then you were taken ill before she became similarly affected?"

"Was she? I did not know that!" said my beloved in surprise. 

"Yes. You were rendered unconscious by a drug which produced all thesymptoms of death, but Miss Engledue was afterwards deliberatelykilled. "

Gabrielle stared at me as though she believed that I was bereft of mysenses. 

"Was Gabrielle Engledue killed?" she gasped. "Surely she was not!"

"She was, " I replied. "And her body was afterwards cremated!"

My beloved gave vent to a shriek of horror--and what more natural? Shenow realized, for the first time, that she had been the victim of aclever and amazing plot. 

"I recollect, " she said, "that just at the moment of my sudden seizureI seemed to become fascinated by the gorgeous Spanish shawl whichGabrielle Engledue had around her shoulders. It was a most beautifullyembroidered silk shawl with long, heavy fringe, and flowers worked inred, green and gold upon a silk fabric. I had been admiring it all thetime I sat at the table, but the colours seemed so dazzling as tobewilder me, to muddle my senses--red, green and gold. "

How often had those words of hers puzzled me! Now I knew the truth!That magnificent Spanish shawl had stood out in her recollection asthe last object she had seen before the deadly orosin had done itswork. 

Then I told her my own story. 

"I was inveigled by a specious story into that house soon after youhad sipped your coffee--perhaps even before, " I said. "The library wasfilled with a curious, overpowering perfume of _pot-pourri_ whichovercame me, and then De Gex gave me a liqueur glass of brandy intowhich there had been introduced that most baneful of all drugs orosin!It took immediate effect upon me, and a few moments later I was shownyou lying upon the bed, as though you were dead! Indeed, I believedyou to be dead, and in the muddled state of my brain I actually gavea certificate with which that fiend De Gex had already providedhimself. I declared that you had died of heart disease, a malady forwhich I had for some months treated you!"

"But I knew nothing more until I was found on the road in Hampshire, "she said. 

"And I knew nothing more until I found myself in a hospital over atSt. Malo, " I went on. "The drug orosin in small doses destroys thememory; in large doses it produces an effect of death, and in stilllarger ones--like that administered to your friend the Anglo-Spanishgirl Miss Engledue--causes instant death, with no symptoms that thepost-mortem can distinguish other than the natural cause of suddenheart failure. "

"Was I given the drug deliberately?" asked Gabrielle, looking at mewith her wonderful wide-open eyes--eyes so different from those dulledfixed ones which I had seen in the Duomo in old Florence, when she hadraised herself from praying in her half-demented state while thesinister Italian doctor stood behind her. 

"Yes, " I said. "De Gex passed his coffee cup to you, smiling andwithout compunction, well knowing the effect it must have upon you, atthe same time his intention being to kill your friend Miss Engledue byadministering a stronger dose. This must have been accomplished by theinfection of some wound or slight abrasion of the skin so that thedrug should be introduced directly into the system and not by themouth. Such a method would cause almost instant death. "

"But did Gabrielle Engledue die?" she asked excitedly. 

"Yes. She did. And by her death De Gex inherits the fortune of herfather, a rich Spaniard, the Conde de Chamartin. "

She looked at me utterly bewildered, and well the poor girl might be. She now realized that she had been the victim of an amazing plotconceived by a master criminal, who was at the same time immenselywealthy, yet who cared nothing for human life so long as he amassed acolossal fortune. 

"All this, Mr. Garfield, is most astounding!" she declared, gazingwith bewilderment around the room. "It seems incredible!"

"Yes, Miss Tennison, I know it does, " I replied. "But have patience, and I will prove to you the true depth of the villainy of our mutualenemy and his well-paid sycophants. "

Then, of a sudden, I grasped her soft hand in mine and for a fewseconds held it. I looked steadily into her wonderful eyes, and thenslowly I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it. 

"Gabrielle, " I whispered, bending to her in deep earnestness. "Mytriumph over your enemies is yours--_yours_! Wait, and I will revealto you the whole facts--facts more astounding than have ever beenconceived in the most sensational pages of modern fiction. "

She did not withdraw her hand, and by her inert attitude, I realizedwith indescribable joy that she really reciprocated my love!

I am not an emotional man, neither am I an ideal lover. I am only amere man-of-the-world. Hence perhaps the reader will forgive me if Ifail to describe all the ecstasy of affection which I experienced atthat moment. 

I loved Gabrielle Tennison with all my soul, and I now knew that sheloved me. That surely was all-sufficient!

With Gabrielle I had been a fellow-victim of a deeply laid and mostfoul plot. That I had been purposely marked down with the aid of DeGex's accomplice and sycophant, Gaston Suzor, was made more than plainas I pursued my inquiries. 

The plot by which De Gex had hoped to secure his partner's fortune wasindeed worthy the evil ever-scheming mind of the mystery-man ofEurope; the man whose unseen influence made itself felt in every greatpolitical move on the Continent--the man whose hundred agents wereready in secret to do his bidding and perform any dirty work forpayment. 

After the Conde de Chamartin had been secretly attacked in the trainon his way to Paris and had died in the hospital at San Sebastian, Oswald De Gex suddenly found to his dismay that whatever claim he madeupon his late partner's estate, practically the whole would go to hisdaughter. Therefore, while being a little apprehensive lest orosincould be detected in a body after death by an expert pathologist, heresorted to that elaborate and remarkable plot in order to exhibit tome what I presumed to be the body of Gabrielle Engledue, and induce meto forge a death certificate in the name of a doctor whose surname wasthe same as my own. 

The fact that he had actually provided himself with a genuine sheet ofthe doctor's notepaper, and that--as I now learnt for the firsttime--Moroni was actually in the house when the drug was given toGabrielle and myself prior to the death of the chief victim, showedthe utter callousness of the crime. Indeed, Gabrielle Engledue wasactually witness of my beloved's mysterious seizure, little dreamingthat in a short hour she herself would fall victim to the cupidity ofthat relentless poisoner who, by his crimes, hoped to amass one of themost colossal fortunes in the world. 

I sat with Gabrielle discussing the amazing affair until darknessslowly fell. I told her of my own astounding adventures, and my narrowescape from death in Madrid, to all of which she listened withbreathless interest. 

Then, rising, I took her hand again, and with whispered words Ipressed my lips to hers for the first time in a long but sacredcaress. 

She sighed. I felt her quiver as I pressed her to me, and then to mydelight I felt her sweet warm lips cling at last affectionately tomine. 

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH

ANOTHER PLOT

Among my letters on the following morning was a small packet which Iopened. Within was a tablet of dark-brown toilet-soap bearing the nameof a well-known firm of manufacturers. With it was a typewrittenletter upon dark-blue commercial paper with a printed heading. I wasaddressed as "H. Granfield, Esq. , " and the letter proved to be apolite intimation that as the firm in question was putting on to themarket a new brand of toilet-soap, they begged me to accept with theircompliments the enclosed sample. I was also informed that, if I likedit, I could purchase it of their agents, a certain firm of chemists inKing Street, Hammersmith. 

"Looks rather decent soap!" remarked Harry as I passed it to him, andthen I re-wrapped it in its paper and placed it aside. 

At eleven o'clock I sat with Rivero, Gabrielle and Harry Hambledon inthe dull reception-room at Scotland Yard, that same room wherein I hadgiven information concerning the whereabouts of Mateo Sanz. 

The Superintendent who received us was a well-dressed courtly man, rather stout and elderly, who became intensely interested when Irelated the whole story, much as I have set it down in the foregoingpages. 

The consultation was a momentous one. Rivero sat amazed when Idescribed my chance meeting with Gaston Suzor, and the clever mannerin which I had been inveigled into De Gex's house in Stretton Street. Indeed, on comparing Gabrielle's story with my own, I now saw that atthe time I entered the house both she and the girl Engledue were intheir normal health. The coffee had not then been served though Moronihad gone out of the room, no doubt to put the drug into the cup whichwas to be offered to Gabrielle Tennison, and which apparently wasplaced by mistake before the mystery-man himself. Or else the changingof the cups was to allay any suspicion that might arise in the mind ofthe other victim, which was perhaps most likely. 

According to Gabrielle, it seemed that at the moment of her seizureHorton re-entered the room and said some words in a low tone to hismaster, whereupon the latter rose, left the table, and evidently wentto greet me, leaving Gabrielle in Miss Engledue's care. 

Horton, even though he had been engaged in serving the dinner at therear of the house, was apparently also on the look-out for me, and nowI recollected that on my journey down from York, I had mentioned toSuzor my habit of going to visit my uncle in Orchard Street on certainevenings. He had asked me to dine with him on the seventh, but I hadexcused myself as my uncle would expect me that evening. He evidentlyheld previous knowledge that the route I habitually took was throughStretton Street, hence the plot to get me within that house. Besides, it was quite likely that Suzor himself was watching for me and hadsent Horton out to call me. In any case, the plot had been well-timedand elaborately thought out. 

The fact was plain that Gabrielle Engledue, who had sent her luggageto the station cloak-room and was about to return to Madrid, waskilled, probably by the scratch of a pin upon which orosin had beenplaced. 

"All this is most astounding, " declared Superintendent Fletcher. "Ofcourse, De Gex contrived that no inquiry would be made concerning thedead girl. He might have shown you the body of Miss Engledue, but hehad some motive in keeping it from you, and obtaining a deathcertificate for the girl who was still living. "

"The motive was that he was not quite certain whether the orosin couldbe detected. Since then he has grown bolder, as witness the murder ofthe Baron van Veltrup, " I replied. 

"But why should he not have shown you the dead girl?" queried theSuperintendent. 

"Because he no doubt wished to mystify me in case of my recovery fromthe effects of the drug, " was my reply. "He was not quite certain ofthe effect that the dose might have upon me, so in order to entirelymislead me, so that if I recovered my statements would be discredited, he showed me a girl who was still living, though to all intents dead. Indeed, I have come to the conclusion that, aided by Moroni, hepurposely contrived that I should meet and recognize in Miss Tennisonthe girl I had been told was the dead girl Gabrielle Engledue. And Iconfess that I have been sorely puzzled all along that the girl whom Ihad seen dead was actually alive, even though her mental state wassuch as to show that she had met with foul play. "

"Yes, " remarked Rivero. "The plot was very cunningly conceived, especially the manner in which you were entrapped and induced to givethe certificate. "

"Here is the money which De Gex gave me for my share in the crime, " Isaid openly, laying the bank notes upon the Superintendent's table. "Isuppose some action will be taken against me, but I am prepared totake the consequences, now that I have unmasked one of the greatestand most dangerous criminals of modern times. "

"You certainly have done that, Mr. Garfield, " remarked SuperintendentFletcher. "And I venture to think that the part which you have playedin solving this problem will be taken into account when your ownactions are considered. "

"It seems to me, " remarked Rivero, "that the reason the poison-maker, Moroni, evinced such a keen interest in Miss Tennison, and his reasonfor taking her to a number of specialists was solely in order to gaintheir opinions and so further study the effects of the deadly drugwhich he prepared. "

"I have learnt, " I said, "that Moroni was the laboratory assistant ofthe late Professor Orosi, the discoverer of the drug. "

"Ah! Then of course he knows the secret of its preparation, how toadminister it, and in what doses, " remarked Fletcher. 

"Even to-day, " I said, "I have had yet another attempt upon my lifemade by these scoundrels, " and from my pocket I drew the little packetcontaining the sample cake of toilet-soap, which I displayed to themall. Then, handling it in the thick brown paper wrapping, I took mypocket-knife and scraped the soap, quickly revealing a number of sharpsteel points imbedded in it. 

"You see there are sharp clippings in it! Each has no doubt beentreated with orosin!" I said. "Had I washed my hands with it as atrial, they would have become scratched and infected with the deadlypoison before I was aware of it. "

"Sanz has no doubt sent you that!" remarked Rivero instantly. 

"Well, Hugh, it is certainly a providential escape that you discoveredin time this latest plot against you!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "Reallythe craft and cunning of De Gex is without limit. "

"But I think, Miss Tennison, that you need have nothing further tofear from him, " said the Superintendent with satisfaction. "He has nodoubt, very powerful friends, and if the evidence were not so damningand direct as that collected after so much patience and perseveranceby Mr. Garfield, he might perhaps wriggle out of it. But once we havehim he can hope for no escape, " he added. "And we shall arrest himbefore an hour is out. Fortunately he is still quite unsuspicious, though his chief fear is of Mr. Garfield, and of the ugly revelationswhich either Moroni or Sanz could make. Nevertheless we shall see!"

CONCLUSION

Just after noon I accompanied Superintendent Fletcher and Señor Riverowith three detectives from Scotland Yard to the little hotel atNotting Hill Gate, where Mateo Sanz was then staying, for he had twicechanged his abode within the past week. Rivero saw the proprietor, andgiving his name as Sanchez Orozco, a well-known criminal and friend ofhis, asked to see his visitor who we knew had taken the name ofNardiz, and represented himself as an agent of a firm of Spanish wineexporters. 

Mention of the name of Orozco at once brought the much-sought-afterbandit downstairs, and as he entered the little sitting-room Riverocovered him instantly with his automatic pistol, shouting to himauthoritatively in Spanish. 

The notorious bandit staggered, so completely was he taken aback. 

"You know me, Sanz!" exclaimed Rivero. "You are under arrest. Now tellme who prepared that cake of soap which you sent to Mr. Garfield?"

The question was quite an unorthodox procedure in English justice. Butit was the Chief of the Spanish Detective Department who had arresteda Spanish criminal. 

"Find out, " was the fellow's defiant retort. 

"It was Oswald De Gex, " said Rivero. "You won't deny that! You may aswell tell the truth, and things may go better with you. He wasDespujol's friend, as well as yours--was he not?"

"Yes, " the dark-faced man admitted sullenly. "We have both done hisdirty work--and Moroni assisted him. "

"You sent that soap to Mr. Garfield--eh?"

The man under arrest with Rivero's pistol still pointed at him noddedin the affirmative. 

"And you went to The Hague and there met the Baron van Veltrup. Youput that little piece of steel into his glove. I know that you did, "Rivero went on relentlessly. 

"Yes. De Gex paid me for it, " was his reply. 

"As he paid Despujol--eh?"

"Yes. "

"Very well, " replied Rivero. "I will note your replies. De Gex isexpecting you to call upon him to-day, is he not?"

"Yes. At one o'clock. I was to receive some money, " he laughed grimly. 

The Spaniard having been taken away in a taxi to Bow Street PoliceStation, together with his luggage, we went on to Stretton Street. 

"Mr. De Gex is not in, " replied the man-servant who appeared in answerto my ring. 

"Never mind, " I said. "My friends and I have some business with him. "And I walked into that big familiar hall, followed by SuperintendentFletcher, Señor Rivero, and two detectives. 

"We have a meeting here, " I explained casually to the smartman-servant who in surprise at our sudden entry showed us to thelibrary, that same room in which I remembered sitting on that fatefulNovember night. 

It was nearly a year ago since I had last been in that big, handsomelyfurnished apartment. I did not remain there, for it was my intentionto greet my would-be murderer on his return. Therefore I went to thehall and there awaited him. 

Just before one o'clock he entered with his latchkey, and he havingclosed the door I stepped forward in his path. 

"I think you know me--Mr. De Gex!" I exclaimed very firmly, my eyesfixed on him. 

He started, and for a second went pale. Then in indignation, heexclaimed:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I am here to see you, Mr. De Gex, " I replied quite calmly. 

"I don't know you, " he declared angrily. 

"Perhaps not, " I laughed. "But there are others with me here who wishto speak a few words with you. "

As I said this Superintendent Fletcher stepped forward, while behindhim came the others. 

"Mr. Oswald De Gex?" he asked. "Is that your name?"

The owner of the big mansion went pale to the lips, and muttered anaffirmative. 

"I hold a warrant for your arrest on the charge of the wilful murderof Gabrielle Engledue on the seventh of November last, " said theSuperintendent. "Your accomplice Sanz is already under arrest, I maytell you, and orders have gone out to Paris and to Florence for thearrest of your friends Suzor and Moroni. " Then turning to hislieutenants, he gave orders for the great financier to be secured. 

So utterly aghast was the guilty man at our sudden appearance, and theterrible charge levelled against him, that he was quite unable tospeak. He tried to articulate, to protest, but his tongue seemed tied. Only a low, gurgling sound escaped his lips, and the next second hehad collapsed into the arms of the detectives who half carried himout to the taxi which stood near by in readiness. 

He was placed in a cell at Bow Street to await his appearance beforethe stipendiary on the following day, but an hour later when thewarder went to him he found him dead. Upon the thumb of his left handwas a slight punctured wound. 

Rather than face a trial and the penalty for his crimes, he had killedhimself by that same most deadly drug by which he had sought to enrichhimself. 

 * * * * *

Next day all the world rang with the sensational news of the arrestand suicide of the mighty millionaire of Europe, but De Gex had manyinfluential friends, hence to the public the actual truth was neverdisclosed. 

Mateo Sanz was extradited to Spain, where at the Assize Court atMadrid he was, six months later, sentenced to death and in due courseexecuted, while Moroni, after many delays, as is usual in the ItalianCourts, was sentenced to fifteen years' imprisonment for being in thepossession of orosin, and also attempting to administer it. The chargeagainst him of having had a hand in the heartless murder of poorGabrielle Engledue was unfortunately not substantiated for lack ofevidence. 

Though the police are still seeking everywhere for Gaston Suzor, hehas not up to the present been found. They, however, do not despair ofarresting him. 

At first it was resolved to seek the man-servant Horton and arresthim, but as it seemed that he had had no actual hand in the girl'sassassination, and as, moreover, the murderer had committed suicide, his evidence was not required, the hue-and-cry after him was dropped. 

And myself?

What need I say, except that to-day I am extremely happy. Owing to thesudden great rise of some securities which my father left me I laterfound myself quite well off. Indeed, upon the death of old Mr. Francisa few months ago, I was able to purchase a partnership in the firm, and I am thankful to say we are doing quite well in face of thestrenuous competition in electrical engineering. 

Gabrielle Tennison, the sweet, open-hearted girl whom I first metunder such extraordinary circumstances, is now my wife. We live veryhappily in a charming, old-world farmhouse embowered in roses andhoneysuckle, on the Portsmouth Road at Cobham, in Surrey. 

Life nowadays is one of idyllic bliss, of perfect love and undisturbedpeace, different indeed from that fevered year of struggle, adventure, travel and unrest during which I strove so steadily and with all mymight to avenge the crimes of Oswald De Gex, and to unravel thattangled skein of the misdeeds of the international financier--theStretton Street Affair.