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(the New York Public Library)

THE MIDNIGHT GUEST

A Detective Story

Fred M. White

Author of "The Crimson Blind," "The Corner House,"
Etc.

GROSSET & DUNLAP
Publishers -- New York

T. J. McBRIDE & SON

Published May, 1907

THE MIDNIGHT GUEST.

CHAPTER I.

AT WHOSE HAND?

A hansom pulled up in front of 799, Park Lane, and a slim figure of a woman,dressed in deep mourning, ran up the broad flight of marble steps leading to thehouse. Her features were closely concealed by a thick veil, so that the footmanwho answered the ring could make nothing of the visitor. Her voice was absolutelysteady as she asked to see Lord Ravenspur at once.

"That is impossible, madam," the footman protested; "his lordship is not yetdown, and besides----"

"There is no 'besides' about it," the visitor said, imperiously; "it is amatter of life and death."

Once more the servant hesitated. There was something about this woman thatcommanded his respect. The hour was still early for Park Lane, seeing that itwas barely nine o'clock, and the notable thoroughfare was practically deserted.From the distance came the hoarse cries of a number of newsboys who were racingacross the Park. One of them came stumbling down Park Lane, filling the freshspring atmosphere with his shouts. Evidently something out of the common hadhappened to bring these birds of ill omen westward at so early an hour. With thecuriosity of his class the footman turned to listen.

"Terrible murder in Fitzjohn Square! Death of Mr. Louis Delahay, the famousartist! Artist found dead in his studio! Full details!"

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "it can't be true. Why, Mr. Delahay was a greatfriend of my master up to the last day or two----"

"I am Mrs. Delahay," the veiled woman said with quiet intentness. "Pleasedon't stand staring at me like that, but take me to your master at once. It isimperative that I should see Lord Ravenspur without a moment's delay."

The footman collected his scattered wits, and stammered out some kind ofapology. There were other newsboys racing down the Lane now. It seemed as ifLondon was ringing with the name of Louis Delahay. Then the great double doorsof the big house closed sullenly and shut out the horrid sound. At any othertime the veiled woman might have been free to admire the luxury and extravagantgood taste of her surroundings. There were many people who regarded LordRavenspur as the most fortunate and talented man in London. Not only had he beenborn to the possession of a fine old title, but he had almost unlimited wealthas well. As if this were not sufficient, Nature had endowed him with a handsomepresence and an intellect far beyond the common. Apparently there was nothingthat Ravenspur could not do. He was a fine sportsman, and a large number of hisforty odd years had been spent big game shooting abroad. What time he passed inEngland was devoted almost exclusively to artistic pursuits. As a portraitpainter Ravenspur stood on a level with the great masters of his time. More thanone striking example of sculpture had come from his chisel. He had as muchhonour in the Salons of Vienna and Paris as he had within the walls ofBurlington House. In fine, Ravenspur was a great personage, a popular figure insociety, and well known everywhere. His lavish hospitality was always in thebest of good taste, and theentrée to 799, Park Lane was accounted a rareprivilege by all his friends.

But the woman in black was thinking nothing of this, as she followed thefootman along marble corridors to a sunny morning-room at the back of the house.The footman indicated a chair, but the visitor waved him aside with a gesture ofimpatience.

For a few moments she paced up and down, weaving her way in and out amongstthe rare objects of art like a wild animal that is freshly caged. She threw backher long, black veil presently as if the atmosphere of the place stifled her.Her face might have been that of a marble statue, so intensely white and rigidit was. It was only the rapid dilation of the dark eyes which showed that thestranger had life and feeling at all. She turned abruptly as Lord Ravenspur cameinto the room. His handsome, smiling face and prematurely iron-grey hairafforded a strong contrast to the features of his visitor. He came forward withextended hands.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Maria," he said. "But what is wrong? Louisis all right, I suppose?"

"Louis is dead!" the woman said in the same cold, strained voice. "He hasbeen foully murdered. I could not say more if I spoke for an hour. Louis isdead!"

The speaker repeated the last three words over and over again as if she weretrying to realise the dread significance of her own message. Ravenspur stoodthere with his hand to his head, shocked and grieved almost beyond the power ofspeech.

"This is terrible," he murmured at length. "My dear Maria, I cannot findwords to express my sympathy. Could you tell me how it happened? But perhaps Iam asking too much."

"No," Mrs. Delahay replied, still speaking with the utmost calmness; "I amready to answer any question you like to put to me. I am absolutely dazed andstunned. As yet I can realise nothing. But, perhaps, before the reaction comes Ihad better tell you everything. To think that I should lose him in this waywhilst I am still a bride! But I dare not pity myself as yet, there is far toomuch stern work to be done. There will be plenty of time later on for the luxuryof grief."

"My dear friend, I couldn't. I must be walking about. I feel as if I couldwalk about for years. But I will try and tell you how it happened. He came backto London yesterday afternoon, as you know, and put up at the Grand Hotel. Yousee, I had never been in London before, and so I know nothing at all about it.If we had only gone straight to our own house in Fitzjohn Square this dreadfulthing--but why do I think of that? You know the house was not quite ready forus, and that was the reason why we went to the Grand. After visiting a theatrelast night Louis announced his intention of going as far as our house. Iunderstood him to say that he required something from his studio. There were nocaretakers on the premises, but Louis had a latchkey, so that was all right. Iwent to bed about twelve o'clock, thinking no evil, and not in the least alarmedbecause Louis had not come back. As you know, he had always been a terribly lateman, and I thought perhaps he had met one of his old companions, or perhaps hehad turned into the Garrick Club. Still, when I woke up this morning about six,and found that he had not returned, I became genuinely alarmed. I took a cab asfar as Fitzjohn Square, and went into the house."

"One moment," Ravenspur interrupted. "I don't quite understand how youmanaged to get into the premises."

"That was an easy matter, though the front door was closed. The latchkey wasstill in the lock. I only had to turn it to obtain admission. I went straight tothe studio, and there on the floor----but I really cannot say any more. Strungup as I am I could not describe it to you. . . . I suppose I cried out, and whenI came back to a proper comprehension of things the place was full of police.For the last two hours I have been with them answering all sorts of questions.Then something told me to come to you, and here I am. And whatever you do,please don't leave me alone. I could not bear to be alone."

"I wish I could tell you how sorry I am," Lord Ravenspur murmured. "This is amost extraordinary business altogether. You say that Louis left you not laterthan twelve o'clock to go as far as Fitzjohn Square, and that, when he left theGrand Hotel, he had no other object in his mind. You are quite sure of this?"

"Well, that is a strange thing," Ravenspur went on. "It so happens that I hadan accident to my own studio a day or two ago, and until yesterday the workmenwere in repairing the glass roof. I was engaged upon a small work which I wasanxious to finish, and it occurred to me that I might just as well make use ofyour husband's studio, seeing that he was away from home and did not require it.I obtained a duplicate key from the house agent, and all yesterday I was workingon my picture there. In fact it is in Louis' studio at the present moment. Aftersome friends who were dining with me last night left, I walked as far asFitzjohn Square, and till nearly a quarter past one this morning I was at workthere. I might have gone on all night, only the electric light failed suddenly,and I was left in darkness. Then I came home and went to bed. And I am preparedto swear that it had turned half-past one before I left your house, and therewas no sign of Louis up to that time."

"It is inexplicable," the woman said wearily. "When I try to think my brainseems to turn to water, and everything goes misty before my eyes. I feel like awoman who has had no sleep for years. I feel as if I must get something torelieve this terrible pressure on my brain. Is there nothing that you cansuggest?"

"I think so," Ravenspur said quietly. "I am going to take you back to yourhotel, and call for a doctor on the way. You cannot go on like this. No humanmind could stand it."

CHAPTER II.

NO. 1 FITZJOHN SQUARE

A few moments later and Ravenspur's brougham was being rapidly driven in thedirection of the Grand Hotel. No words were spoken on the journey, but Ravenspurdid not fail to notice how his companion shook and quivered as the shouts of thenewsboys reached her ears. It seemed as if all London had given itself over tothis last sensational tragedy. It was as if thousands of strange rough handswere pressing upon the still bleeding wound. To an intensely sympathetic naturelike Ravenspur's, the relief of the destination was great. At his suggestion offood his companion shuddered. The mere idea of it turned her physically sick.Utterly worn out and exhausted she dropped into a chair. There was a light nowof something like madness in her eyes. The doctor bustled in presently withsomething in his hand. Mrs. Delahay drank the medicine in a mechanical way,scarcely knowing what she was doing. Then, gradually, her rigid limbs relaxed,and the staring dark eyes were closed.

"She'll do now for some time," the doctor whispered. "I have telephoned for anurse who may be here now at any moment. Don't let me detain you. I have got mymotor outside, and in any case I must remain till the nurse arrives."

"That is very good of you," Ravenspur murmured. "As far as I am concerned Ishould like to make some inquiries. I have known Delahay now for the last fiveyears; indeed, it was I who persuaded him to take up his quarters in London. Itseems a terrible thing that so promising a career should be cut short like this.That man would have come to the top of his profession, and, so far as I know, hehadn't a single enemy in the world. Perhaps, by this time, the Scotland Yardpeople may have found a clue."

Ravenspur drove straight away to Fitzjohn Square, and made his way throughthe crowd of morbid folks who had gathered outside. As he expected, he found thehouse in the hands of the police. Inspector Dallas came forward and greeted himrespectfully.

"Ghastly," Ravenspur exclaimed. "It was a great shock when Mrs. Delahay cameround to me this morning. And the strange part of the whole business is that Iwas in this very house myself, quite alone, till half-past one. Perhaps I hadbetter explain the circumstances to you, as the knowledge might prove useful. .. . And now you know all about it. Mind you, I saw nothing; I did not hear asound. Indeed, I am quite convinced that there was no one on the premises when Ileft."

"But you had no means of making sure," the inspector protested. "Themiscreants might have been here all the time. They might have been hiding in aroom upstairs waiting for you to go."

"They might have attacked me as far as that goes," Ravenspur replied. "Myword, the mere suggestion of it turns one cold."

"At any rate, they were not after your lordship," the inspector said,thoughtfully. "Of course, I am assuming for the sake of argument that themurderer, or murderers, were actually here when you arrived last night. If so,the whole thing was carefully premeditated. These people had no quarrel withyou, and, therefore, they did not molest you. All the same, they wanted to getrid of you, or they would not have cut off the light."

"That we can prove in a moment. I am going on the theory that these peoplewanted to get you out of the way, so they short-circuited the current and leftyou in darkness. That was a very useful expedient, and had the desired effect. Iam very glad you told me this because it may be the means of putting us on thetrack of important evidence. But let us go down to the basement, and examine theelectric meter."

Ravenspur followed his companion down the dark steps leading to the basement,and Inspector Dallas struck a light. Then, with a grim smile, he pointed to acable which led from the meter to the different rooms on the upper floors. Thecable had been clean cut with some sharp instrument, a fracture which must havebeen recently made, for the main wire to the cable gleamed like gold.

"So far, so good," Dallas said. "We have proved by yonder demonstration thatthese people were here last night whilst you were actually at work in thestudio."

"That puzzles me more than ever," Ravenspur replied. "Why did they not getrid of me an hour before, which they could have done equally as well, by thesame simple expedient?"

"Simply because they could afford to wait till half-past one. You may dependupon it that Mr. Delahay's movements were absolutely known to them. They wereperfectly well aware of the fact that he was not expected here till some timepast half-past one. It is not a nice insinuation to make, but when Mr. Delahayleft his hotel at midnight, he had not the slightest intention of comingstraight here. Doubtless he had important business which was likely to last himan hour and a half, and for some reason or other he did not want his wife toknow what it was. Speaking as one man of the world to another, Mr. Delahay'sexcuse for getting out strikes me as being rather a shallow one. Surely amarried man, more or less on his honeymoon, does not want to visit an emptyhouse after midnight. Surely he could have waited till daylight."

"I feel quite convinced of it, your lordship. And, moreover, the appointmentwas a secret one of which Mrs. Delahay was to know nothing. I will go stillfurther, and say that Mr. Delahay came here after you had gone this morning tokeep an appointment. It is just possible that he might have been in the houseduring your presence here. It is just possible that he cut the cable himself."

"Ah, but that won't quite do," Ravenspur protested. "When I came out of thehouse this morning I saw that the front door was carefully fastened, and I amprepared to swear that the latchkey which Mrs. Delahay found this morning wasnot in the lock then. No, no; I am quite sure that poor Delahay must have comehere after I left. I am not prepared to contest your theory that my unfortunatefriend came here to keep an appointment. Indeed, the presence of the latchkey inthe door proves that he was in a hurry, and perhaps a little upset, or he wouldnot have committed the mistake of leaving the key behind him. But after all,said and done, this is merely conjecture on our part. Have you found anythingyourself that is likely to give you a clue?"

"Perhaps I ought not to mention it," he said, "but I am sure I can rely uponyour lordship's discretion. When I was called this morning I found Mr. Delahaylying on the floor of the studio quite dead. So far as we could see there wereno marks of violence on the body except a small puncture over the heart, whichappears to have been made with some very fine instrument. But, of course, wecan't speak definitely on that point till we have had the inquest. As far as wecan judge, something like a struggle must have taken place, because the loosecarpets on the floor were in great disorder, and one or two articles offurniture had been overturned. You may say that this proves nothing, except thatviolence was used. But in the hand of the dead man we found something that mightbe useful to us. Perhaps you would like to see it."

Lord Ravenspur intimated that he should. From a pocket-book Dallas produced aphotograph,carte de visite size, which had been torn into half a dozenpieces. The photograph was considerably faded, and in the tearing the actualface itself had been ripped out of all recognition. Still, judging from thesmall fragments, it was possible to make out that the picture had been that of awoman. One scrap of card bore the words "and Co., Melbourne." The rest of thelettering had apparently vanished.

"This must have been taken a long time ago," Ravenspur said. "It is soterribly faded."

"Not necessarily, my lord," Dallas said. "We know very little about thatphotograph as yet except that it was taken in Australia. Of course, it is fairto assume that the picture is an old one judging from the colouring, but yourlordship must not forget that foreign photographs are always much fainter thanthose taken in this country, because the light is so much stronger and morebrilliant. At any rate, the fact remains that we found those fragments tightlyclenched in Mr. Delahay's left hand, all of which points to some intrigue, witha woman at the bottom of it. Of course, I know nothing whatever about Mr.Delahay's moral character----"

"Then I'll tell you," Ravenspur said sharply. "My late friend was the soul ofhonour. He was a very quick, passionate man, and he inherited his temper fromhis Italian mother. But the man was incapable of anything mean or dishonourable.He was genuinely in love with his wife, and cared nothing for any other woman.How that photograph came into his possession I don't know. Probably we nevershall know. But you can at once dismiss from your mind the suspicion thatDelahay was mixed up in that vulgar kind of business. Now, is there anythingmore you can tell me?"

"Well, no," Dallas said, after a short pause. "There is nothing that strikesme, no suggestions that seem to need a doctor's opinion. We shall find that thecause of death is the small puncture over the heart that I spoke of. To hazardan opinion, it might be caused by one of those glass stilettos--the Corsicantype of weapon where the blade is snapped off in the wound. It leaves thesmallest mark, and no blood follows--a difficult thing to trace without greatcare. Of course, thepost mortem----"

CHAPTER III.

THE MARK OF THE BEAST.

A sudden quick cry broke from Ravenspur's lips. He fairly staggered back, hiswhite face was given over to a look of peculiar horror. Then, as he became awareof the curious glances of his companion he made a great effort to regain hisself-control.

"I--I don't understand," he stammered. "A stiletto made of glass! A long,slender blade like an exaggerated needle, I presume. Yet, now I come to think ofit, I recollect that, when I was painting a 'Borgia' subject once, my costumedealer spoke of one of those Corsican daggers. I did not take much interest inthe conversation at the time. And so you have an idea that this is the way inwhich my poor friend met his death?"

Ravenspur was speaking quietly and easily now. He had altogether regainedcontrol of himself save for an occasional twitching of his lips. He paced up anddown the room thoughtfully for some time, utterly unconscious of Dallas' sharpscrutiny.

"I suppose there is nothing more you have to tell me?" he said at length."This is evidently going to be one of those crimes which thrill a wholecommunity for a week, and then are never heard of again. Still, if there isanything I can do for you, pray do not hesitate to ask for my assistance. Isuppose we can do no more till after the inquest is over?"

Without waiting for any reply from his companion Ravenspur quitted the room,and went back to his brougham. He threw himself into a corner, and pulled hishat over his eyes. For a long time he sat there immersed in deep and painfulthought, and utterly unconscious of his surroundings. Even when the broughampulled up in Park Lane he made no attempt to dismount till the footman openedthe door and addressed him by name.

"I--I beg your pardon, Walters," he said, "this terrible business prevents mythinking about anything else. I am going into my own room now, and I am not tobe disturbed by anybody. If I am dining out tonight, tell Mr. Ford to write andcancel the engagement. Oh, here is Ford himself."

"Your lordship seems to have forgotten," he said. "You are giving a dinnerhere tonight yourself. You gave orders especially to arrange it, because youwere anxious for some of the Royal Academicians to meet the young Polishartist----"

"I had clean forgotten it," Ravenspur said, with something like a groan."Entertaining people tonight will be like dancing in fetters. Still, I must makethe best of it, for I should not like that talented young foreigner to bedisappointed. In the meantime, I am not at home to anybody."

With this admonition Ravenspur passed up to his own private rooms, andcarefully locked the door behind him. He took a cigar from his case, and lightedit, only to fling it away a moment later in disgust. He stood just for a momentwith his hand on a decanter of brandy, and then with a smile for his ownweakness poured out a glassful, which he drank without delay.

"I am a fool and a coward," he muttered. "What can there be to be afraid ofafter all these years? Why do I hesitate in this way when boldness and decisionwould avert the danger?"

Ravenspur sat there, looking moodily into space. He heard the houseresounding to the sound of the luncheon gong, but he made no movement. The meresuggestion of food was repulsive to him, clean as his habits were and robust ashis appetite usually was. The Lane and the Park were gay with traffic now; theroar of locomotion reached the ears of Ravenspur as he sat there. Presently thenoise of the newsboys came again, and the name of Delahay seemed to fill the airto the exclusion of everything else. Ravenspur rang his bell, and asked for apaper.

The flimsy, ill-printed sheet fairly reeked with the latest and most ghastlyof London tragedies. Nothing else seemed to matter for the moment. Seven oreight columns were given over to an account of the affair. Before he set himselfdown to read it steadily through, Ravenspur glanced at the last paragraph, tofind that the preliminary inquiry had been adjourned for a week. Most of theflorid sensational paragraphs contained nothing new. The only point thatinterested the reader was the medical evidence.

This was compact and to the point. Death had been undoubtedly due to a stabover the heart which had been inflicted by some long, pointed instrument, notmuch thicker, apparently, than a needle. So far as the police doctor could say,the weapon used had been an Italian stiletto. There was practically no blood.Indeed, the whole thing had been accomplished in a cool and deliberate manner bya man who was not only master of his art, but who must have possessed aconsiderable knowledge of anatomy. Evidently he had chosen a spot to inflict thewound with careful deliberation, for the deviation of half an inch either waymight have produced comparatively harmless results. It was the opinion of thedoctor that, had the fatal thrust been made through the bare skin, all traces ofit might have been overlooked. It was only the adherence of the dead man'ssinglet to the tiny puncture that had caused sufficient inflammation to attachsuspicion to the point of impact. All this pointed to the fact that the crimehad been clearly premeditated and carried out coldly and deliberately.

For the moment, however, the great puzzle was to discover how the murdererhad been aware that he would be in a position to find his victim at FitzjohnSquare. It was proved conclusively enough that Louis Delahay had come back toEngland on the spur of the moment, and that equally on the spur of the moment hehad made up his mind to visit his house, and, therefore, nobody could possiblyhave known besides his wife when he had left the Grand Hotel. On this pointpublic curiosity would have to wait, seeing that Mrs. Delahay was in nocondition to explain. In fact, she was in the hands of a medical man who hadprescribed absolute quiet for the present.

Ravenspur tossed the paper impatiently aside, and rang for his tea. The slowday dragged along until it was time for him to dress and prepare for thereception of his guests. He came down presently to the drawing-room, where oneor two of the men had already assembled. His old pleasant smile was on his facenow. He was once more the polished, courtly man of the world. He steeled himselffor what he knew was coming. Practically the whole of his guests were artists ofdistinction. And the death of Louis Delahay would be the one topic ofconversation. The blinds were down now, for the young spring night had drawn inrapidly and it was perfectly dark outside. The clock struck the hour of eight,and the butler glanced in inquiringly. Ravenspur shook his head.

"Not quite yet, Simmonds," he said; "we are waiting for Sir James Seton. Ashe is usually the soul of punctuality he is not likely to detain us."

"You can take his place if necessary," one of the guests laughed. "When I seeSeton and our host together I always feel quite bewildered. Two such public menhad no business to be so absurdly alike."

"There is no real 'resemblance,'" Ravenspur laughed, "though people areconstantly making absurd mistakes. It is excusable to mistake one for the otherin the dark, but not in the daylight. Besides, Seton is a much taller man than Iam, and much slimmer. We should hear nothing about this likeness, but forcertain gentlemen of the Press who make their living out of little paragraphs."

"Well, they have got plenty to occupy their attention now," another guestremarked. "This business of poor Delahay's is likely to give them occupation forsome time. Tell us all about it, Ravenspur. I hear that you were down atFitzjohn Square this morning. Is there anything fresh?"

Ravenspur groaned in his spirit. All the same, his manner was polished andeasy as he turned to the speaker. But before he had time to give any detailsthere was a sound of excited voices in the hall outside, the banging of a dooror two, and then a tall, elderly man staggered into the room, and fell into aseat. There was an ugly scar on the side of his face, a few drops of bloodstained his immaculate shirt-front.

"Good Heavens!" Ravenspur cried. "My dear Seton, what is the matter?Simmonds, bring the brandy here at once."

"No, no," the newcomer gasped; "I shall be all right in a minute or two. Amost extraordinary thing happened to me just now. I was coming towards the Laneby the back of Lord Fairhaven's house on my way here when a man came out fromunder the shadow of the trees, and commenced a violent attack upon me.Fortunately, I was able to ward him off with my stick, but not before he hadmarked me in the way you see. Somebody happened to be coming along, and myassailant vanished. Still, it was a nasty adventure, and all the moreextraordinary because the fellow evidently mistook me for our friend Ravenspur.He actually called me by that name."

All eyes were turned in the host's direction, for a strange, choking cryburst from his lips.

CHAPTER IV.

A WOMAN'S FACE.

It was such an unusual thing for Lord Ravenspur to show his feelings soplainly. For the most part he passed as one of the most self-contained men inLondon. He had always boasted, too, of perfect health. His nerves were in thebest condition. And now he had started to his feet, his hand pressed to hisheart, his face white, and wet with terror. More than one of the guests cameforward, but Ravenspur waved them aside.

"I am behaving like a child," he said. "I suppose the time comes when all ofus begin to feel the effect of approaching age. I don't know why Seton'smisfortunes should have upset me so much. But, perhaps, coming on the horrors ofthis morning, it has been a little too much for me. It is a most scandalousthing that a gentleman can't go out to dinner without being molested in thisfashion. What are the police thinking about?"

Ravenspur spoke in hot indignation; in fact, he was slightly overdoing it. Hefussed about Seton, and insisted that the latter should go up to his room, whichsuggestion the guest waived aside. He was the far more collected of the two.

"Oh, nonsense," he said; "a canful of hot water will repair all the damage.Don't you worry about me. You go in to dinner, and leave me to young Walterhere."

A door opened at that moment, and a young man entered, and came eagerlyacross the room in the direction of the speaker. Walter Lance might have beenLord Ravenspur as he had been twenty years ago. As a matter of fact, they wereuncle and nephew, Lance being the son of Ravenspur's favorite sister, who haddied some years before. For the rest, he was a barrister eagerly waiting hischance of success, and, in the meantime, occupied himself in the capacity ofRavenspur's private secretary. He seemed to have heard all that had taken place.He was warm in his sympathy as he piloted Sir James Seton to his own room. Theywere going down again almost before the dinner gong had ceased to sound, and bythis time a knot of dinner guests were discussing ordinary topics again.

To the casual observer there was no sign of trouble or tragedy here.Everything was perfect in its way. The oval table glittered with silver and oldBohemian glass. The banks of flowers might have been arranged by the master handof an artist. Ravenspur sat there gaily enough now, his conversation gleamingwith wit and humour, the most perfect host in London. There was no sign whateverof his earlier agitation. And yet, strive as he would, from time to time thename of Louis Delahay crept into the conversation. It was in vain that LordRavenspur attempted to turn the stream of thought into other channels. He wasglad enough at length when the dinner came to an end, and the party of guestsbroke up into little groups. The host approached Seton presently with a requestto know whether he would care to play bridge or not.

"No bridge," Sir James said emphatically. "I am tired of the tyranny of it. Iwonder that you should make such a suggestion, Ravenspur, seeing how you detestthe commonplace. But, at any rate, I will have another of those excellentcigarettes of yours."

"It shall be just as you please, my friends," Ravenspur said wearily. "Nowlet us go and have a coffee in the studio. It is much cooler there, and there ismore space to breathe."

The suggestion was received with general approval, and a move was immediatelymade in the direction of the studio. The apartment lay at the end of a longcorridor, which cut it off from the rest of the house, the studio being inreality a huge garden room, which Ravenspur had built for reasons of privacy. Hetook a latchkey from his pocket and opened the door.

"I always keep this place locked," he explained. "Some years ago my threeAcademy pictures were stolen just as they were finished, and since then I havetaken no risk. The annoying part of the whole thing was that one of the missingpictures was the best thing I ever did. What became of it is a mystery."

"I remember the picture perfectly well," one of the guests remarked. "It wasthe study of a woman. Do you recollect my coming in one night and you asked memy opinion of it?"

"Well, it was a superb piece of work," the first speaker went on; "anythingmore fascinating than the woman's face I don't recollect seeing. I don't knowwho your model was, Ravenspur, but you had a rare find in her."

"I had no model," Ravenspur explained. "The face was more or less an idealone--composite, if you like, but resembling nobody in particular. However, thething was a great loss to me, and I have never ceased to regret it. That is whyI always keep this place locked up; even when the room is cleaned out, I amalways present to see that nothing is disturbed. It is a whim of mine."

As he spoke Ravenspur switched on the electric lights, until the whole of thebeautiful apartment glowed to the illumination of the shaded lamps. The studioitself was circular in shape, and finished in a great dome of stained glass. Thefloor was littered with rare old Persian carpets, and lounges from all parts ofthe world were dotted about here and there. Round the walls was an almost uniquecollection of armour. From the centre of the floor rose a fine acacia tree, thevivid green foliage of which seemed to suffer nothing from being cut off fromthe outer light and air. Altogether the place was quite unique in its way, andstriking evidence of Ravenspur's originality and good taste. On little tableshere and there were hundreds of photographs, most of them signed, testifying tothe great popularity which Ravenspur enjoyed amongst all classes of society.

"You will have to leave these to the Nation," a guest laughed. "What acosmopolitan gallery it is--a prince on the one side, and a prominent socialiston the other! Yet, after all, photographs are very commonplace things. You mightlook over a thousand before your fancy is taken by a face like this."

As he spoke the guest took up a portrait from one of the tables, and held itout at arm's length, so that the light fell upon the features. Unlike the rest,the photograph was not framed, and, judging from the edges, it had had a certainamount of rough usage in its time. As to the picture itself, it presented thefeatures of a young and beautiful girl, with a great cloud of hair hanging overher shoulders. There was something almost tragic in the dark eyes; they seemedto tell a story all their own.

"A beautiful face," the guest went on. "The sort of face that a poet wouldweave an epic around. I don't want to be impertinent, Ravenspur, but I shouldlike to know who she is."

"Where did you get that from?" Ravenspur asked. His voice sounded hard andcold, so that the man with the photograph in his hand turned in some surprise."Where did you find it?"

"My dear fellow, I took it up off this table, as you might have done. Ofcourse, it is no business of mine, and I am sorry if any careless words I havespoken----"

"The apology is mine," Ravenspur put in quickly. "I was annoyed, just for themoment, to think that that portrait should have been left about. I could havesworn that I had locked it carefully away in a safe. You are perfectly right, mydear Seymour, there is a tragedy behind that charming face. But you will quiteunderstand that I cannot discuss the matter with anybody."

"Oh, quite," the offending guest said hastily. "Still, it is a most lovelyface. Now who does it remind me of?"

"The likeness is plain enough," Seton put in. "Why, it is the very image ofour host's young ward, Miss Vera Rayne. Is there any relationship between them,Ravenspur?"

Ravenspur had crossed the studio in the direction of a safe let into thewall. He placed his hand in one of the little pigeon holes there, as if seekingfor something. Apparently he was unsuccessful in his search, for he shook hishead doubtfully.

"Not there," Ravenspur said to himself. "Most extraordinary lapse of memoryon my part. Of course, I must have taken that photograph from the safe when Iwas looking for something else, and----"

The speaker broke off abruptly. He slammed the door of the safe behind him,and returned to his guests. But the light had gone out of his eyes; he seemed tohave suddenly aged.

"Let us have some coffee," he said. "Is it true, Marrion, that there islikely to be a serious split in the cabinet?"

CHAPTER V.

VERA RAYNE.

The conversation became more general now, so that it was possible a momentlater for Ravenspur to slip out of the studio without his absence beingobserved. He went swiftly away to the library, where he hastily dashed off anote, which he handed over to a servant to be delivered immediately. He seemedto be somewhat easier in his mind now, for the smile had come back to his lips.The smile became deeper, and a shade more tender, as a young girl came into theroom. She had evidently just returned from some social function, for she was inevening dress, with a light silken cloud thrown over her fair hair. Save for thebrilliancy of her eyes, and the happy smile upon her lips, she bore a strongresemblance to the mysterious photograph, which had so disturbed Ravenspur alittle time before. She crossed the room gaily, and kissed Ravenspur lightly onthe cheek.

"No; they are still in the studio. But, tell me, have you had a veryenjoyable evening? And how is it that you are back so soon?"

A faint splash of colour crept into the girl's cheeks. She seemed to be justa little embarrassed by the apparently simple question.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "One gets tired of going out every night. Andit was rather dull. I daresay all this sounds very ungrateful when you give meeverything I could desire. But I am longing to get into the country again. Itseems almost a crime for people to shut themselves up in dusty London, when thecountry is looking at its very best. Do you know, I was far happier when I wasdown in Hampshire."

"Well, we can't have everything our own way," Ravenspur smiled. "Still, weshall see what will happen later on. And now, I really must go back again to myguests."

Vera Rayne threw herself carelessly down into a chair. A little sigh escapedher lips. She ought to have been happy enough. She had all the blessings thatgood health and great wealth could procure. And yet there were crumpled roseleaves on her couch of down. The thoughtful look on her face deepened. She satthere so deeply immersed in her own reflections, that she was quite oblivious tothe fact that she was no longer alone. Walter Lance had come into the room. Headdressed the girl twice before he obtained any response. Then she looked up,and a wistful, tender smile lighted up her beautiful face.

"I was thinking," she said. "Do you know, Walter, I have been thinking a gooddeal lately. I suppose I am naturally more discontented than most girls, but Iam getting very tired of this sort of life. Pleasure is so monotonous."

"Ungrateful," Walter laughed. He came and stood close to the speaker's sideso that he could see down into the depths of her eyes, which were now turnedfully upon his. "There are thousands of girls who envy your fortunate lot."

"I don't know why they should. You see, it is all very well for me to go onlike this. It is all very well to be a fascinating mystery. The time has comewhen I ought to know things. For instance, I should like to know who I reallyam."

"What does it matter?" Lance asked. "What does it matter so long as I--solong as we all care for you. My dear girl, you pain me. And when you speak inthat cold, not to say arbitrary way, as if--as if--really, Vera! It isn't that Iwant you to be more worldly than you are----"

"But then you see, I am not worldly, Walter. And I really should like to knowwho I am, and where I came from. It is all very well to tell people that I amthe daughter of an old friend of Lord Ravenspur, and that he adopted me when myfather died. That is sufficient for our friends and acquaintances, and seems tosatisfy them, but it does not satisfy me. When I ask Lord Ravenspur about myparents he puts me off with one excuse or another, and if I insist he becomesquite stern and angry. He is so good to me that I don't like to bother him. Andyet I can't go on like this."

"My dear Walter, I mean exactly what I say," Vera said sadly. "I am tired ofthis constant round of pleasure. Really, it seems to me that the lives of therich are quite as monotonous as those of the poor. We go our weary round ofdinner and dance and reception, varied by an occasional theatre or concert. Wesee the same faces, and take part in the same vapid conversation---- Oh, Walter,how much nicer it would be to get one's own living!"

"Well, at any rate, I could try. And that is what I am going to do, Walter. Ihave fully made up my mind not to stay here any longer. Don't think that I amungrateful, or that I do not recognise Lord Ravenspur's great kindness to me.But you see I have no claim upon him, and if anything happened to him tomorrowwhat would my position be? I know he has a large income from his property, butthat will go to his successor some day. Oh, I know you will think that this isvery hard and cold of me, but there are reasons, many and urgent reasons, why itis impossible----"

Vera broke off abruptly, and Walter could see that the tears had gathered inher eyes. There was something in those eyes, too, that caused his heart to beata trifle faster, and brought him still closer to her side.

"Won't you tell me what it is?" he whispered. "We have always been such goodfriends, Vera. Forgive me asking you, but isn't this decision on your partrather a sudden one?"

"Oh, I am quite prepared to admit that," the girl said candidly, "and I wishI could explain. But you would not understand--was there ever a man yet whoreally understood a woman? The thing that you call impulse . . . I know thatLord Ravenspur had his own ideas as to my future, the same as he has in regardto yours."

"Oh, indeed," Walter said drily; "that is news to me. And in what way is myuncle interested in my welfare?"

"Do you mean to say he hasn't told you? He has mentioned it to me at least ascore of times. You are going to marry Lady Clara Vavasour. That much issettled."

"Really, now, that is very kind of my uncle. But, unfortunately, I have viewsof my own on the subject. Lady Clara is a very nice girl, and I understand thatshe is rich, but she does not appeal to me in the least. My dear Vera, surelyyou are mistaken. Surely my uncle must have guessed, he could not be so blind asnot to see--Vera, dearest, cannot you understand what I mean? Do you supposethat I could possibly have known you all this time without--without---- Youknow, I am certain that you know."

"Oh, no, no," Vera cried; "you must not speak like that. I cannot listen toyou. I know that Lord Ravenspur has set his heart upon this marriage, and itwould be the basest ingratitude on my part if I----but what am I talking about?"

The girl broke off in some confusion. The faint pink oh her cheeks turned toa deeper crimson. Her eyes were cast down; she did not seem to realise thatWalter had her hands in his, that he had drawn her close to his side.

"I must speak," he said huskily. "Even at the risk of your thinking me themost conceited man on earth, I must tell you what is uppermost in my mind now.My dear girl, I have known you ever since you were a little child. From the veryfirst we have been the best of friends. I have watched you change from a girl toa woman. I have watched your mind expanding, and gradually I have come to knowthat you are the one girl in the world for me. I have not spoken like thisbefore, because there seemed to be no need to do so. Everything was so natural,there did not appear to be any other end to a love like mine. But if I have beenwrong, and if you tell me that you care nothing for me----"

"Then you do care for me, my dearest. Yes, I can see it in your face, thereis always the truth in your eyes. And now I can speak more freely. You weregoing away from here out of loyalty to my uncle, and because you deem it yourduty to sacrifice your feelings rather than interfere with his plans. But, mydear girl, don't you see what a needless sacrifice it would be? Don't you seethat any such action on your part would be worse than useless? But I will speakto you about this tomorrow. I am quite sure he is not the man to stand betweenus and our happiness. Would that I had thought of this before. I am sure that itwould have saved you many an anxious moment."

Vera shook her head sadly. Walter's arms were about her now, her head restedon his shoulder. Just for the moment they were absolutely oblivious to theworld. They heard nothing of the sound of voices as Lord Ravenspur's guestsdrifted away; they were unconscious that he was standing in the doorway, nowregarding them with stern disapproval. He hesitated just a moment, then hestrode into the room. Walter had never seen his face so hard and cold before.

"I am sorry to intrude," he said, "but there is something I have to say toyou, Walter. It is getting late now, Vera, and quite time that you were in bed."

"I am going into the drawing-room for half an hour," she said. "PerhapsWalter will come and say goodnight to me when you have finished yourconversation. I think you understand what I mean. And don't be too hard on me.If you only knew how I have tried to do what--what----"

CHAPTER VI.

A VOICE IN THE DARK.

Vera turned away and walked quietly from the room, leaving the two men faceto face. Lord Ravenspur was the first to speak.

"I am sorry for this," he said; "more sorry than I can tell you. Strange howone should be so wilfully blind. Strange how frequently even the cleverest manwill overlook the inevitable. But I suppose I thought that you two had come toregard one another as brother and sister. Oh, I am not disputing your taste.There is not a more beautiful and fascinating girl in London than Vera. It isonly natural that you should fall in love with her. But she knows the views Ihave for you. She knows to what an extent she is indebted to me. That being soit is her plain duty----"

"My dear uncle," Walter broke in eagerly, "if there is anybody to blame, itis I. Vera knows her duty plainly enough, and she would have acted upon it butfor me. When I came in here tonight I was struck by the unhappiness of her face,and, naturally, I began to ask questions. It seems an egotistical thing to say,but Vera is as deeply attached to me as I am to her, and that was the source ofher trouble. She had made up her mind to go away. She had made up her mind toget her own living. And why? Simply because she knew that you had other viewsfor me, and that she stood in the way of your plans. It was only by a mereaccident that the whole thing came out. But I have spoken the words now that arebeyond recall, even if I wished to recall them, which I do not. There will neverbe another woman in the world for me."

"But the thing is impossible," Lord Ravenspur broke out harshly. "It isabsolutely out of the question. I had other views for you, but I certainlyshould not have pressed them against your wishes. But all that is as nothingcompared to this--this tragedy. I blame myself bitterly for my want offoresight. My conduct has been almost criminal. But, be that as it may, theremust be no engagement between Vera and yourself. Don't press me to tell you why,because my lips are sealed, and I dare not speak. But, as you value your future,I implore you to carry this thing no further. I know this sounds an outrageousrequest, but I am speaking from the bottom of my heart. It is the fashion of theworld to regard me as one of the most fortunate and enviable of men. I tell you,with all the force at my command, that I would cheerfully change places with thehumblest labourer on my estate. I have never dropped the mask before, and Iprobably never shall again. I am only doing it now so that you may be warned intime. Go back to Vera, and tell her what I say. Tell her that there are urgentreasons why a marriage between you is utterly out of the question. And if youwill persist in having your own way, then let me ask you one final favour. Letthe engagement be kept a secret. And now I have no more to say. Perhaps I havesaid too much as it is, only if you were aware what the last twenty-four hourshas brought forth----"

Ravenspur broke off abruptly as if fearful of saying too much. His wholeattitude had changed; his features quivered with an almost uncontrollableemotion. Then he turned on his heel, and strode down the corridor in thedirection of the studio. Walter could hear the latch of the door click as itclosed behind him. . . .

Ravenspur was alone with his own troubled thoughts. For a long time he pacedup and down the room, then he took up the photograph which had excited so muchattention amongst his guests earlier in the evening. He laid it down on a littletable, and gazed at the face there long and sadly.

"Amazing!" Ravenspur muttered to himself. "Absolutely inexplicable! I couldhave sworn that I had the photograph still under lock and key. When did I takeit from the safe, and why? Beyond all question, it was not on the tableyesterday. Is this a mere coincidence, or is it a menace and warning of the oldtrouble which has never ceased to be with me night and day the last twentyyears? And how the whole thing works together! First of all, poor Delahay isfound murdered in his studio, and now something like the same thing happens toone of my guests who was unquestionably mistaken for me in the darkness. And asif that was not enough, those two young fools must take it into their heads tofancy that they are in love with one another. Heaven only knows how I shall makemy way out of this terrible coil, even if I have the good luck to escape theconsequences of my folly! The most fortunate man in London! The most popular andmost sought for! What a bitter travesty upon the truth it is! If they only knew!If there were only some power to lift the roof off of every house in London,what tragedies would be revealed! And how many friends would be left to me?"

Time was going on. A dozen clocks in different parts of the house strucktwelve. As Ravenspur stood by the table, his moody eyes still bent upon thephotographs, there was a sudden click and snap, and the whole place was plungedin darkness. The thing was so quick and unexpected that something like a cry ofalarm broke from Ravenspur's lips. It all came to him in a flash that thetragedy of Fitzjohn Square was going to be repeated with himself in therôleof the victim. This is just what had happened the previous evening, only therehad been nothing to try his nerves then as they were being strained to breakingpoint now. Shaking and agitated in every limb he made his way across to wherethe switches were, but there was nothing wrong with them. He could hear nocommotion in the house, such as would naturally follow the extinguishing of thelight. Indeed, underneath the doorway he could see by the slit of light that theelectrics in the corridor were still working.

The full horror of it was almost more than he could bear. A wild desire forlight and companionship came upon him. His unsteady hand fumbled at the latch,which seemed in some way to have gone wrong, for the door refused to open.Ravenspur was breathing thickly and heavily. But he was sufficiently inpossession of his faculties to realise that he was no longer alone in the room.He could distinctly hear someone breathing close to him. Then he caught thesound of a low chuckle.

"Not so fast," a voice hissed in his ear; "I haven't come all this way forthe benefit of your society to lose you like this. You needn't worry about thedoor, because you can't escape in that way."

In a sudden frenzy of rage and anger and fear, Ravenspur stretched out hisarm and encountered that of the mysterious stranger, whose dramatic entrance hadso startled him. But, strong man as he was, and in the pink of good condition,Ravenspur could make nothing of his assailant. The man appeared to be not morethan half his size, but his arms and body were tough and elastic as the finestwhipcord. Gradually Ravenspur was borne backward. He dropped on his knees with agrip about his throat that caused him to gasp for breath, and brought a millionstars dancing before his eyes. He wanted help more earnestly than he had everrequired it in his life before, but his pride was stubborn still, and he triedto choke down the cry which rose to his lips. He must fight for himself to theend.

"So that is to be the end of it?" Vera asked. "It breaks my heart to speaklike this, but after what Lord Ravenspur has said, there must be an end to thematter."

"But, my dearest girl, the thing is absurd," Walter cried. "What have we donethat we should be treated in this way? Surely our position is clear enough. Weare to be parted for the sake of some ridiculous whim which is not even capableof an explanation. I am not going to leave matters here. I decline to obey untilI know the reason why. At any rate, nothing can prevent our loving each other.And, as far as I am concerned, I am quite prepared to keep the matter secretbetween us. But I intend to have the matter out with my uncle before I sleeptonight. I am not a boy to be treated in this sentimental fashion. So long as Iknow that your feelings remain unchanged----"

"What is that?" Vera cried. "Didn't you hear anything--a kind of horriblemuffled scream? There it is again."

The sound came again and again, ringing through the silent house, horribleand insistent in its note of tragedy. Vera turned a pale, scared face to hercompanion.

"The studio," Walter exclaimed. "It is my uncle's voice. Something terriblehas happened to him."

Without another word Walter dashed from the room, and flew along the corridorleading to the studio. Just for a moment there was a strained, tense silence;then, as the door of the studio was reached, a strange, muffled scream burst outagain. With his hand on the lock Walter shook the door, which refused to giveway to him. He called aloud on Ravenspur, but no reply came. He shook the doorin a fit of angry exasperation, and once more from inside the room came thatqueer, choking noise, followed by a low chuckle. It was maddening, exasperatingto a degree, to stand so close to the threshold of tragedy and yet to be so faraway.

There was only one thing for it, and that was to break down the door.Flinging himself full against the woodwork, Walter literally forced his way in.Then he stood just for a moment looking into the gloom and darkness, trying tosee where the figure of the unhappy man lay.

CHAPTER VII.

THE YELLOW HAND-BILL.

The suggestion of tragedy brooding in the darkness held Lance back just forthe moment. He was almost afraid to proceed lest he should find something evenworse than he had expected. Then his hand fumbled along the wall with theswitches, and the great room burst into a glow of light again.

The place was absolutely empty, save for the figure of Lord Ravenspur huddledup upon the Persian rug. He was absolutely still and silent. As far as Lancecould see he had ceased to breathe.

Naturally enough the young man looked about him for a sign of the miscreant,but the studio contained no trace of his presence. The thing was puzzling to thelast degree. There was no exit from the room beyond the door which Walter hadbroken down, and nobody could possibly have passed him that way. Besides, theswitches were just inside the door, and the light had been turned on almostimmediately. At any rate, there was nobody there now except the victim of theattack himself, and Walter feared that he was already past any explanation ofthe strange affair.

That would have to keep for the present. Walter bent over and raised LordRavenspur's head and shoulders. He was still alive, for his eyes were wide open,though no words came from his lips. At the same time he seemed to be strugglingfor speech which would not come. Then he raised a shaking arm and contrived topull Walter's head down close to his lips. The words came at length in a faintwhisper, a whisper so low, that Walter had the greatest difficulty in followingit.

"Don't let anybody know. It is absolutely necessary that no one should know,"Lord Ravenspur faltered. "If there is any alarm, I pray you go and allay it atonce. Say that I had fallen asleep and was suffering from nightmare. Say I had ahorrible dream. Say anything, so long as you respect my secret. Now go."

There was nothing to do but to obey this mysterious request. At the end ofthe corridor Vera was waiting with an anxious face. It was no nice thing toprevaricate, it would have to be done. Walter spoke as lightly as possible.

"There is no occasion for alarm," he said. "Lord Ravenspur says that he fellasleep and had a horrible nightmare. At any rate, he seems to be all right now.You had better go to bed. I am sorry that you should have been so much alarmed."

To Walter's great relief, Vera asked no further questions. She turned awayobediently enough, and he hurried back to the studio. Lord Ravenspur still layon the Persian rug, but with Walter's help he contrived to get into a chair. Alittle brandy brought some trace of colour to his face. He seemed more likehimself again. "They heard nothing in the house?" he asked anxiously.

"Only Vera," Walter explained. "She was terribly frightened, but she believedwhat I told her, and she has gone up to her room. And now, perhaps, you willtell me the truth."

"My dear uncle, I am sure of it. I know it is possible for people to make themost hideous noises when they are suffering from nightmare, but this is quiteanother matter. You called aloud for help. You were in imminent danger of losingyour life. Before I broke the door down I distinctly heard somebody give a lowchuckle. Of course, you can make light of this in the morning. You can inducepeople to laugh at your absurd situation, but you cannot deceive me. I knowthere was someone in the room when I forced the door."

A faint smile came to Lord Ravenspur's lips. He indicated the room with awave of his hand.

"I see exactly what you mean," Walter said. "Of course, if you do not feelinclined to tell me the truth I cannot compel you to do so. But I have only tolook at you, to see that you have lately been through a desperate struggle withsomeone who came here to take your life. You are absolutely exhausted with theseverity of it. If I had my own way I would put the matter in the hands of thepolice."

"No, no," Ravenspur said vehemently. "If you have the slightest regard for meyou will not venture to say a word to a soul. I want the whole thing to beforgotten. If I remain in my room all tomorrow under the plea of indisposition,I shall be all right the next day. You are to give me your word of honour thatyou will say nothing of what you have seen tonight."

"My dear uncle, won't you trust me? I would do anything to help you. Andbesides, how are you going to guard against this happening again?

"A bloodthirsty ruffian who can enter a house and vanish in this mysteriousfashion, is not likely to be put off, if he knows you are going to take no stepsto guard yourself against a further attack. But what has become of him?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Ravenspur said wearily. "I was sitting in mychair when the light suddenly went out and I heard the door locked. Then I hadto fight for my life, and was nearly done for when I called out for assistance."

"Nothing whatever," Ravenspur went on. "I could only feel him. And after thatI recollect no more till you came."

"A most extraordinary thing," Walter said, somewhat impatiently. "Surely youhave some idea as to who the man is. Surely he must be the same man who mistookSir James Seton for yourself tonight."

No reply came from Lord Ravenspur. Evidently he desired to say no more. Heseemed anxious to be alone. But Walter, angry and hurt, walked rapidly about theroom seeking for a way whereby the late visitor had vanished. But he looked invain. There was no possible means of exit other than the door, and the fireplacewas too narrow to admit of anybody coming or going. As to the roof, it was ofheavy stained glass, and as impregnable as the walls themselves. The mystery wasmaddening. And yet the one man who could have explained it all sat there silent,and moody, and tongue tied.

"Is there anything more that I can do for you before I go to bed?" Walterasked. "Are you sure I can't help you?"

"I am afraid not, my boy," Ravenspur said in a dull, mechanical way. "I knowthat you won't chatter about this thing. And, perhaps, a little later on, Ishall be able to speak more plainly. I shall be glad if you will help me up thestairs and get me into bed. I have had a great shock tonight."

It seemed almost cruel to pursue the subject further, and Walter refrainedfrom questions as he noticed the ghastly whiteness of his uncle's face. Thelatter was disposed of at length, and then Walter came downstairs again. He nowhad the house practically to himself. All desire for sleep had forsaken him.Besides that, it was no nice thought to reflect on the possibility of thatruffian being still on the premises. Walter had not the slightest doubt in hismind that the man had left the studio in some secret manner, and that he hadcome there through no ordinary channel. What was to prevent him returning againwhen the house was asleep and finishing his work? In itself, the fact of LordRavenspur possessing a bitter enemy was remarkable. And Lord Ravenspur'sobstinate silence was more remarkable still. Walter had given his word to saynothing of these strange events, but that did not bind him from making inquirieson his own account.

He returned to the studio once more and made a thoroughly searchingexamination of the place. Was there some secret door which Lord Ravenspur used,and of which nobody knew anything? It had never occurred to Walter till thatmoment that his uncle might have turned-down pages in his life, but thatconclusion was inevitable now. Still, though Walter spent the best part of anhour in his search, he had nothing to show for his pains. He was about to giveup the thing in despair when a piece of yellow paper, lying by the side of thePersian rug where Lord Ravenspur had fallen, attracted his attention. It was asmall, shabby sheet of paper, folded in four and printed from worn-out type, infact, just the class of bill which is circulated amongst travelling circuses andshows of that kind. It was the last thing in the world that anyone would havelooked for in the studio of so fastidious a man as Lord Ravenspur. Slowly andthoughtfully Walter unfolded and read the handbill. It was an advertisement ofthe nightly programme of the Imperial Palace Theatre. The name of the placesounded imposing enough, but the locality of Vauxhall Bridge Road somewhatdetracted from the importance of it. So far as Walter could judge, the ImperialPalace Theatre was no more than a shady music hall giving two shows a night, andmost of the names on the bill were absolutely unknown to fame. The star turnappeared to be one Valdo, who was announced as the flying man who had made sucha sensation throughout the leading halls in Europe.

"I wonder if this is a clue," Walter murmured to himself. "At any rate, Ishould like to see this Valdo. I'll go down to the Imperial Palace tomorrownight and enquire for myself."

Walter folded up the shabby bill and placed it in his pocket, after which hewent thoughtfully to bed.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.

Nobody in the Park Lane house appeared to have the slightest suspicion thatanything had been wrong. The stolid, well-trained servants accepted theexplanation of the broken door quite as a matter of course. And when Vera hadcome down in the morning she appeared to have forgotten the incident entirely.Lord Ravenspur was not feeling particularly well, and he had decided to keep tohis room for the day. The explanation was perfectly simple and quite natural.All the same, Walter was thankful that Vera should ask him no questions. It wasno easy matter to preserve a cheerful and unconcerned face at the breakfasttable, but he seemed to manage it all right. He was just a little quiet andsubdued, but then there was nothing remarkable about that, especially in view ofLord Ravenspur's feelings on the subject of his engagement to Vera.

The day dragged on, and Walter waited with what patience he had till theevening. He was not displeased to find that Vera was dining out with somefriends in Sloane Square, for this would give him the opportunity he needed. Hechanged his dinner jacket presently for an old tweed coat and cap. Then he setout on his errand in Vauxhall Bridge Road. Walter was not alone on thisoccasion, for he was accompanied by a journalist friend whose particular studywas the life and habits of the lower classes. It was this friend who hadsuggested the advisability of the humble garb, so that they could thus mixfreely with the people around them. Walter congratulated himself upon hisfriend's prudence when he saw the class of audience that filled the ImperialPalace Theatre.

The place was large enough, and by no means lacked artistic finish. At onetime it had been an actual theatre, run by some enthusiast with a view to theelevation of the masses and the production of high-class plays at popularprices. The experiment had ended in a ghastly failure, and now a shrewd,hard-headed publican in the neighbourhood was making a fortune by the simpleexpedient of giving his patrons exactly what they required.

"We can't do better than the pit," Venables replied. "That will cost yousixpence, or perhaps, if you like to be extravagant, we can have a box forhalf-a-crown. Still, we don't want to make ourselves conspicuous. The pit isquite good enough for me. You can smoke here, you know, and drink too, for thematter of that. But I should not advise you to try the latter experiment."

The house was fairly well filled as the two friends entered and took theirseats. The audience for the most part were respectable enough, but the wholeplace reeked with perspiring humanity, and the air was pungent with the smell ofacrid tobacco. A constant fusillade of chaff went on between the stage and theaudience. Indeed, the artistes, for the most part, appeared to be on the mostfriendly terms with thehabitués of the theatre. A dreary-looking comedian was singing one of theinevitable patter songs, full of the feeble allusions to drink without whichsongs of that kind never appear to be complete. The audience listened stolidlyenough.

"Are they never going to tire of this kind of thing?" Walter asked hiscompanion. "Is there nothing humorous in the world outside the region of toomuch beer? These people sadden me."

"Oh, they are all right," Venables said, cheerfully. "They are quite happy intheir own particular way. I have long ceased to look for anything fresh on themusic hall stage. An original artist and an original manner wouldn't betolerated."

The dreary song came to an end at length; then it was followed by twoso-called sisters, who, in short skirts and large picture hats, discoursed ofthe joys of country life in a peculiarly aggressive Cockney accent. The wholething was dull and depressing to the last degree, and Walter began to regret hisloss of time. He noticed from his programme that Valdo was down rather late, sothere was nothing for it but to possess his soul in patience till the time came.It was a little past ten o'clock before the stage was cleared, and theattendants, in their grimy uniforms, began to erect a series of fine wiresrunning from the roof to the floor. Then there was an extra flourish from theaggressive orchestra, and a slim man, dressed entirely in black, came on to thestage. He was received with great enthusiasm and the smiting of glasses upon thetables. Evidently Valdo had established himself as a firm favourite with thepatrons of the Imperial Palace Theatre.

All Walter's apathy had vanished, as he turned to the stage and scrutinisedthe acrobat long and carefully. So far as he could judge, Valdo was noEnglishman with a foreign name, but a genuine foreigner, presumably of Italianbirth. The man was not tall or particularly broad, but he was well proportioned,and gave the idea of one possessed of considerable physical strength. Inparticular, Walter noticed how long his arms were, and how the muscles stood outbetween his shoulders. As to the rest, the man looked mild enough, and his darkSouthern face was wreathed in an amiable smile.

He proceeded, with the aid of an attendant, to fasten two small curved canvasframes to his shoulders. These he thrashed up and down with his arms much as acock flaps its wings before crowing. Then, with an agile leap from the stage,the man proceeded to sail up slowly from the floor to the flies.

"That's clever," Venables exclaimed. "It looks to me as if our friend hassolved the art of the flying machine. But one never knows. I daresay it is nomore than some ingenious trick."

This speech appeared to be resented by a respectable-looking mechanic who wasoccupying the next seat to Venables.

"Nothing of the kind," the man said indignantly. "I've been here three nightsnow, and I know something about mechanics, too. If you think that wires are usedyou are just mistaken. A friend of mine is stage carpenter here, and he told meall about it. Depend upon it, that chap has got the knack right enough."

The performer fluttered down again from the wings as lightly and easily as hehad risen, and a tremendous outbreak of applause followed. When the din had diedaway, the stage manager came forward and invited any of the audience who choseto come up and see for themselves that everything was fair and legitimate, andthat no mechanism had been employed. The intelligent mechanic turned to Venableswith a defiant smile.

"Now is your chance, guv'nor," he exclaimed. "You go and smell it out foryourself."

Venables would have declined the offer, but already Walter had risen eagerlyfrom his seat. The opportunity was too good to be missed. Though he did notassociate this man Valdo with the mysterious attack on Lord Ravenspur's life, hefelt quite convinced that the artist was indirectly concerned in it. To waste achance would be the height of folly. A moment or two later the two friends wereon the stage. They stood there whilst the performer went through another seriesof graceful performances, but they could see absolutely nothing which suggestedmechanical contrivance of any kind. The whole act came to an end at length, andValdo stood there bowing and smiling when his wings were removed.

"Let's have a chat with him," Venables whispered. "Apart from the thing beingdecidedly interesting, there ought to be some good 'copy' here. Properly worked,Signor Valdo ought to be worth a couple of columns to me."

At the suggestion of the "Press," the stage manager pricked up his ears. Hewas not insensible to the value of a good advertisement. He suggested a move tohis private office, where it would be possible for the visitors to interviewquietly.

"Nothing I should like better," Walter said eagerly. "Perhaps you will comewith us, and join us in a bottle of champagne?"

They made their way behind the stage to a dingy little room, insufficientlylighted with one gas jet. The back of the stage was in a turmoil. It was almostimpossible to hear for the din. Then very briefly and modestly Valdo told hishistory. He had found out his peculiar powers by a series of experiments withthe parachute. The whole secret lay, he explained, in the enormously powerfulmuscles between his shoulders and the backs of his arms. The rest was worked bythe amazing rapidity with which he had learnt to move his arms. So far the thingwas effective enough, but the strain was so great that, hitherto, he had foundit impossible to rise to a height of more than forty feet. This naturallyprevented him from obtaining engagements in the larger theatres and halls whereso limited a flight would have been far less imposing than it appeared to bewhen performed in a place like the Imperial Palace. There was nothing more to besaid, and the two friends were turning away when a woman put her head into thedoor, and looked inquiringly at Valdo. He muttered something to the effect thathe would be ready in a moment or two, and the woman vanished.

Walter caught his lip in his teeth. It was hard work to conceal his surprise.There was no doubt whatever about it, no question as to the identity of theintruder. Strange as it appeared to be, Walter recognised the features of Mrs.Delahay. There was no mistaking that white, stern face. It was only for amoment, but that moment had been enough for Lance.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CONFIDENTIAL AGENT.

All that evening and most of the next day Walter brooded over his startlingdiscovery. He said nothing to anybody about it, though he had attempted thenight previously to follow up the clue. The attempt had failed, however, forthough Walter had waited outside the theatre, he saw no more of Mrs. Delahay.And as to the man Valdo he eventually went off by himself. There was nothing forit now but to wait and see what was going to happen.

Meanwhile, public interest in the Fitzjohn Square tragedy had not abated inthe least. Everybody was waiting eagerly enough for the inquest, which was toopen at four o'clock on the day following the mysterious attack upon LordRavenspur. The latter had come down somewhat late in the morning, looking butlittle the worse for his adventure. It was not expected that the inquest wouldbe more than formally opened, and it was generally known that Lord Ravenspurwould be an important witness.

In view of the extraordinary interest taken in the affair the proceedings hadbeen moved to a public hall. Long before the time arranged for opening thehall was packed to its utmost capacity. After the police and medical evidencehad been taken, the first witness called was Lord Ravenspur. His fine,picturesque figure stood out in the strong light. He gave his evidence clearlyand well, though his voice shook from time to time with emotion, which was onlynatural enough, seeing that the dead man had been so close a friend of his.

After all, he had little to tell. He described his late visit to FitzjohnSquare, and how he had been at work on a picture there until such time as thelights were extinguished and he was forced to abandon his task.

"You thought nothing of the lights going out?" the coroner asked. "You sawnothing suspicious in that?"

"Well, no," the witness replied. "You see, it is no unusual occurrence forthe supply of electric light to fail. The thing so easily happens. As the househas been empty for some time it occurred to me that perhaps there was a faultsomewhere, or, perhaps, the workmen had not quite finished their job."

"Quite so," the coroner observed. "Tell us, did you hear any noise in thehouse, or any suspicious sounds?"

"Nothing whatever. Until the light went out there was nothing whatever todisturb me. In fact, I was so intent upon my work that I was quite lost toeverything else."

"But you know now," the coroner went on, "that the main cable leading to themeter was cut. That being so, somebody must have been in the house at the sametime as yourself. What I want to get at is this--the murderer was deliberatelywaiting for his victim. He had no quarrel with you, and his great idea was toget you out of the way. That appears to be obvious."

"It is obvious enough to me," Ravenspur replied. "I came to that conclusiondirectly Inspector Dallas pointed out to me that the main cable had beendeliberately cut. But you see I suspected nothing wrong at the time, and therewas nothing else for me to do but to abandon my task directly the light wentout. I am afraid that I can tell you nothing more."

"The deceased was a great friend of yours?" the coroner asked. "I presume youknow a great deal about his life and habits. Was he at all the sort of man tomake enemies?"

"The last man in the world," the witness said emphatically. "My friend wasboth upright and straightforward. Indeed, I regarded him as a man incapable of amean action."

One or two desultory questions followed, and then Lord Ravenspur sat down. Toa certain extent his evidence had been dramatic enough, but, at the same time,he had not said a single word likely to throw any light on the mystery. Theaudience thrilled and bent forward eagerly as Mrs. Delahay stood up to give herevidence. She was just as deadly pale, just as calm and set, as she had beenwhen she called upon Ravenspur in Park Lane with the dreadful news. She gave herevidence slowly and distinctly, speaking more like an automaton than a creatureof flesh and blood. She told how she had become alarmed at her husband'sprolonged absence, how she had gone down to Fitzjohn Square to see if anythinghad happened, how she found the dead body there, and how the police had come toher assistance. But more than that she could not say, more than that she did notknow. So far as she knew her husband had always been a cheerful man. She hadnever heard him say an evil word of any one. She had not been married long, infact she was still a bride. Altogether she had known her husband for a littleover three years. She was older than her husband, she proceeded to say. Thecoroner asked her age.

"Really," the coroner murmured politely, "I should not have taken you to beso much. I don't wish to ask you anything likely to cause you pain, but does itnot occur to you that your husband might have been concealing something? Is itnot rather strange that he should leave you at midnight and take an hour and ahalf in reaching a house to which he might have walked in ten minutes?"

"I don't think so," Mrs. Delahay said. "My husband was one of the most openof men. In fact, he was too fond of leaving his letters and private papersabout. And as to the rest, he might have met a friend. He might have gone to oneof his clubs."

"If I may be allowed to interrupt a moment," Inspector Dallas said, "I maysay that we have utterly failed to trace Mr. Delahay's movements from the timehe left the Grand Hotel till he reached Fitzjohn Square. Not one of his friendsappears to have seen him on the night in question."

"That is rather unfortunate," the coroner murmured. "I am sorry to havetroubled you so far. You may sit down now."

With something which might have been a sigh of relief Mrs. Delahay resumedher seat close to the table. Then Inspector Dallas put forward a witness whogave the name of John Stevens. He looked like a broken-down professional man inhis greasy, shabby frock-coat and dingy linen. His watery eye glanced nervouslyover the court. The red tinge on his cheeks spoke quite plainly of the cause ofhis downfall. He proceeded to give his evidence so incoherently that the coronerhad to reprimand him sharply once or twice.

"I can't hear half you say," that official said irritably. "I think you saidyour name was John Stevens. What can you tell us about this case? Did you knowMr. Delahay?"

"I knew him quite well, sir," the witness said. "I have seen him scores oftimes when I have been watching in Fitzjohn Square."

"Well, sir, you see, I am a private inquiry agent. I work for one of thelarge firms of detectives, getting up evidence and that kind of thing. Formonths past it has been my duty to keep my eye on a certain house in the Square,especially at night. In that way I have got to know most of the inhabitants bysight, and also I have got to know a good deal about their habits."

"Well, sir, if you like to put it like that," the witness said humbly. "Onthe night of the murder about a quarter past one, I was in the Square gardenswatching through the railings at the corner of John Street. I could seeperfectly well what was going on because there is a large electric arc lightwhere John Street and the Square adjoin. As I said, it was just about a quarterpast one, because I looked at my watch to see what the time was. It was nearlytime for me to leave, as my instructions----"

The witness broke off abruptly, and glanced about the room with the air of aman who has recognised an acquaintance whom he had not expected to see. Hisrambling attentions were recalled by the coroner in a few sharp words.

"I am sure I beg your pardon. As I said, I was waiting there till my time wasup, and I saw Mr. Delahay come round the corner. He stood there just a moment.As far as I could gather he seemed to be troubled about something. I was too faroff to hear what he was saying, but it seemed to me----"

"What are you talking about?" the coroner interrupted. "Do you mean to saythat Mr. Delahay was talking to himself?"

"Companion! That is the first we have heard of that. Was the companion a manor a woman, might I ask?"

"It was a lady, sir. She was a tall woman dressed in black. They stoodopposite me for five or six minutes talking very earnestly together. Then Mr.Delahay turned away from the woman and went into the house. The woman seemed tohesitate a few moments, then she followed, and I saw her go into the house afterMr. Delahay. But she will be able to tell you all about it herself."

"I don't understand you," the coroner said, with a puzzled frown. "How canthe woman tell us all about it herself? You don't mean to say that she is incourt?"

The witness slowly turned and pointed a dingy forefinger in the direction ofMaria Delahay.

"That's the lady, sir," he said. "That's the lady that I saw with Mr. Delahaythe night before last."

"But that is absolutely impossible," the coroner cried. "Don't you know thatthat lady is Mr. Delahay's wife?"

CHAPTER X.

ROPES OF SAND.

Something like a thrill of real excitement ran through the spectators. Theremark was made so quietly and in such a natural tone, that nobody dreamt ofquestioning the word of the witness. Then it went home to all that Stevens wasmaking against Mrs. Delahay what amounted to a serious accusation. All eyes wereturned upon her. She glanced in the direction of the witness in the same, dull,steady way which had characterised her from the first.

"This is very remarkable," the coroner murmured. "Do you quite understandwhat you are saying?"

"Why, of course, sir," Stevens went on, as if absolutely unconscious that hiswords were creating a sensation. "That is the lady whom I saw with Mr. Delahaythat night. I daresay she will tell you herself when she comes to giveevidence."

"One moment, please," the coroner went on. "How long is it since youidentified the lady opposite?"

The witness looked about him as if he hardly understood the question. He wasclearly puzzled by what had happened.

"As a matter of fact," he said, "I did not see her till the last few moments.You see, sir, I took her for a witness like myself. I cannot say any more thanthat."

The coroner murmured something to the effect that there must be a mistakehere. Then he turned to the witness again.

"This is a most important investigation," he said, "and I want you to be verycareful. Will you look at the lady again and see if you have not made a mistake?Surely you were in court when she gave her evidence. You must have seen herthen."

"Indeed, I didn't, sir," the witness protested. "I did not come into courtuntil my name was called outside."

The coroner turned sharply to Mrs. Delahay and asked her to be good enough tostand up. She rose slowly and deliberately, and turned her head in the directionof Stevens. A ray of light fell upon her features; they were absolutely dull andexpressionless, as if all the life had gone out of her; as if she failed utterlyto comprehend what was going on around her. It was only natural that she shouldhave dissented vigorously from Stevens' statement. She regarded him without eventhe suggestion of a challenge in her eyes. As a matter of fact, the man wasmaking a serious charge against her--a charge of wilful perjury at the veryleast, and yet, so far as she was concerned, Stevens did not even appear toexist.

"Just as I told you before," the witness went on. "I saw that lady with Mr.Delahay at a quarter past one on the morning of the murder. I saw her enter thehouse in Fitzjohn Square."

"Extraordinary!" the coroner exclaimed. "Mrs. Delahay has already sworn tothe fact that she retired to bed at twelve o'clock, and that she did not missher husband till late the next morning; and now you say that you saw her withthe murdered man. In the face of Mrs. Delahay's evidence, are you prepared torepeat your first statement?"

A stubborn look came over Stevens' face. His watery eyes became more clearand steadfast.

"I have no object in telling a lie, sir," he said. "I came forward in what Iconsidered to be the interests of justice, and at some loss to myself. I amprepared to stand up in any Court of Justice, and take my oath that Mrs. Delahaywas with her husband at the time and place I have mentioned."

The audience swayed again, for there was something exceedingly impressive inthe speaker's words. All eyes were turned upon Mrs. Delahay, who seemed atlength to gain some understanding of what was going on. There was no sign ofguilt or confusion on her face. It was as calm and stony as ever.

"The speaker is absolutely mistaken," she said. "He must have confused mewith somebody else. From twelve o'clock at night till seven the next morning Iwas not out of my room."

"On the face of what has happened, we cannot possibly go any further," thecoroner said. "After all it will be an easy matter to test the correctness ofboth witnesses. It is just possible that Stevens has made a mistake."

Stevens shook his head doggedly. He felt quite certain that there was nomistake so far as he was concerned. Then there was a little awkward pause,followed by a whispered consultation between the coroner and Inspector Dallas.

"The enquiry is adjourned for a week," the coroner announced. "There isnothing to be gained by any further investigation till the extraordinary pointwhich has arisen has been settled."

The disappointed audience filed out until only a few of the authorities fromScotland Yard remained. As Mrs. Delahay walked slowly towards the door,Inspector Dallas followed her.

"You will excuse me, I am sure," he said, "but I should like to come back toyour hotel with you and make a few inquiries. You see, it is absolutelynecessary to disprove John Stevens' statements. Until we have done that, wecan't carry our investigations any further. I hope you will be able to help usin this matter."

"How can I help you?" the woman asked in the same dull, level voice. "I tellyou that man was mistaken. I am still so dazed and stunned by my loss that I amquite incapable of following things clearly. Something seems to have gone wrongwith my brain. But I will try and help you. It is very strange that that manshould have made such an extraordinary mistake."

"Very strange indeed," Dallas murmured. "Will you permit me to call you acab? Now tell me, have you any relations? For instance, have you a sister who isvery like you? In one of the most important investigations I ever undertook, Iwas utterly baffled for months owing to the fact of there being two twinbrothers mixed up in the case. If you have a sister----"

"So far as I know I have not a single female relative in the world," Mrs.Delahay responded. "And as to the rest, you will find that my statement isabsolutely true. I suppose you will believe the servants at the hotel?"

The hotel was reached at length, and Mrs. Delahay excused herself on theground that she was tired and utterly worn out. So far as Dallas was concernedhe had no desire to detain her. As a matter of fact, he wanted to pursue hisinquiries alone, and on the production of his card the resources of theestablishment were placed at his disposal. Nothing seemed to escape his eye. Nodetail appeared to be too trivial. He received his reward at length through thelips of one of the chambermaids who had something to say. As was only natural,there was not a servant on the premises who had not heard all about the FitzjohnSquare tragedy, or who was not deeply interested in Mrs. Delahay.

"It is your duty to look after the rooms on the same floor as Mrs. Delahay'sbedroom?" he asked. "What time did you retire on the night of the murder?"

"Not before two o'clock," the chambermaid replied. "We were unusually latethat night as the house was full."

"Quite so. I suppose when Mr. and Mrs. Delahay came in from the theatre theygot the key of their bedroom from the office in the ordinary way? I suppose theyhad a dressing room and a bedroom?"

The chambermaid admitted that such was the fact. When asked if she knew whattime Mrs. Delahay had retired for the night, she shook her head. She "could notbe quite sure."

"You see, it was like this," she said. "I was rather interested in Mr. andMrs. Delahay--they were such a distinguished looking couple. I was in thecorridor when Mr. Delahay went out about twelve o'clock, and half an hour laterI went up to Mrs. Delahay's bedroom to see if I could do anything for her. Thekey was in the door, which struck me as rather strange, because, as you know, inlarge hotels like this, it is the customary thing for people to lock theirrooms. I knocked at the door and no reply came, so I went in. The bed anddressing room were both empty, and thinking, perhaps, that Mrs. Delahay had goneout as well as her husband, I turned the key in the door and took it down to theoffice."

"That was quite the proper thing to do," he said. "I suppose you don't knowwhat time the key was fetched again from the office?"

"Oh, that I cannot tell you. You see, I went to bed about two o'clock and Iwas up again at seven. When I took Mrs. Delahay up her cup of early tea she wasin bed then."

"There was nothing to notice. She appeared to be very bright and cheerful,and chatted to me in the friendliest possible way. She did say something to theeffect that she was a little uneasy about her husband, who had not yet returned,and that she must go and look for him. But beyond that I saw nothing that was inthe least out of the common."

"I think that will do," Dallas observed. "I won't detain you any longer. I.know how busy you are."

Dallas went straight away downstairs and interviewed the clerk in the office.The latter's memory was a little vague on the subject of the coming and going ofthe various hotel guests. There were hundreds of them in the course of a week,and it was the habit of most of them to leave the key of their rooms in theoffice every time they went out. The speaker had no recollection of Mrs. Delahaycalling for her key very late on the night of the tragedy. He debated the pointthoughtfully for a moment, then his face lighted up.

CHAPTER XI.

THE EXPRESS LETTER.

"Take your time," Dallas said, encouragingly. "I don't want to hurry you. AllI want are facts."

"It is beginning to come to me now," the clerk said thoughtfully. "Yes, Iremember it quite distinctly. You see, Madam Leona Farre, the great Frenchactress, is staying in the house, and she did not come in till just two o'clock.After I had given her her key Mrs. Delahay came up and asked who the lady was.She wanted her key, too, which she told me was missing from the door of herroom."

"Oh, indeed," Dallas said softly. "She had just come in, I suppose? Had shetaken off her things?"

"No," the clerk said. "She had just come in from the street. I had to explainto her how it was that the key had found its way back into the office again."

"Not in the least. Indeed, she seemed to be rather amused at her owncarelessness. No, I saw nothing suspicious in her manner. I think that is all Ican tell you."

"Possibly," Dallas said. "But there is one other little matter in which youmay be of assistance. I suppose you can recollect the night that Mr. Delahayleft the hotel. Did he happen to ask for letters or anything of that kind? Itwould be quite the usual thing to do. Of course, it is a small point----"

"There were no post letters," the clerk interrupted. "But just as Mr. Delahaywas going out a messenger boy brought an express letter for him, which he readhastily, and then asked the hall porter to call him a cab. No, I can't say thatthe message disturbed him at all, but it seemed to hurry him up a bit just as atelegram might have done. That was the last I saw of him."

On the whole Inspector Dallas was not disposed to be dissatisfied with hismorning's work. He had discovered some important facts, and, at any rate, it hadimpressed the detective with the truth of John Stevens' evidence. As to therest, it would not be a difficult matter to find out the name and number of themessenger boy who had brought the unfortunate Delahay that letter. There wasnothing for it now but to take a cab and go off in the direction of the districtoffice whence the messenger boy had come. As Dallas walked briskly down thesteps of the hotel he met Lord Ravenspur coming up.

"I am just going to see Mrs. Delahay," the latter said. "By the way,Inspector, that was remarkable evidence which the witness Stevens volunteeredthis morning. But, of course, he was mistaken. It is absolutely impossible thatMrs. Delahay could have been with her husband at the time he stated."

"Well, I am not so sure of that, my lord," Dallas replied. "Really, I don'tknow what to make of it. At any rate, I have discovered an absolute fact: thatfor two hours, between twelve and two, Mrs. Delahay was not in the hotel. I haveit on the independent testimony of two witnesses who corroborate one anotherdown to the minutest detail. I don't know what to make of it."

"This is amazing," he said. "Yet I cannot believe that Mrs. Delahay has beendeliberately deceiving us. I will go up and see what she has to say for herself.I suppose I am at liberty to tell her what you have just said to me?"

"I don't know why not," Dallas said after a thoughtful pause. "You see, sheis bound to know sooner or later. And I hope you will make her see theadvisability of accounting for her movements. Nothing can be gained by trying todeceive us, to say nothing of the wrong impression which Mrs. Delahay iscreating in the minds of other people. Really, if you come to think of it, sheis standing in an exceedingly perilous position, my lord."

Ravenspur was not destined to make any impression upon the widow of hisunfortunate friend, for she refused to see him. One of the servants came downwith a message to the effect that Mrs. Delahay could not see anybody. Even aletter hastily scribbled by Ravenspur failed to induce her to change her mind.With something like despair in his heart Ravenspur went off in the direction ofhis own house. For the rest of the afternoon he sat in the library, a prey tohis own gloomy thoughts. Visitors came and went, but the same message was givento all of them--Lord Ravenspur was far from well. He could not see anybody thisafternoon. It was nearly seven o'clock before Walter Lance came into thelibrary.

"I am sorry to disturb you," he said, "but I have something serious to say toyou. I have been reading to-day's evidence in the Delahay case, and I was sointerested in the matter that I went to Scotland Yard and had a chat withInspector Dallas. It seems to me that Mrs. Delahay has placed herself in a verycompromising position."

"Surely, my dear uncle, the thing is plain enough. Whatever your opinion ofMrs. Delahay may be you cannot get away from the fact that she was deliberatelylying when she gave her evidence this morning. She swore that on the night ofthe murder she wasn't out of her bedroom after twelve o'clock, and we know nowthat she was away from the hotel for over two hours. You know it, too, becauseDallas told you. You will forgive my plain speaking, sir, but I think you couldthrow some light on this painful tragedy. Believe me, I should not dare to sayso much if----"

"You are presumptuous," Ravenspur said angrily. "Do you dare to insinuatethat a man in my position----"

"I am not insinuating anything," Walter urged. "But I have a feeling we arein some way connected with this tragedy. I have a strange instinct that there issome close connection between the death of Mr. Delahay and that mysteriousmurderous attack upon you in your studio. Oh, I know that commonsense is allagainst my theory, but I am going to tell you something which will astonish you.After I saw you to bed the other night I searched the studio for some waywhereby an assailant could have entered the room--I mean some secret door knownonly to yourself----"

"You can disabuse your mind of that idea," Ravenspur said, with the ghost ofa smile. "I give you my word that there is nothing of the sort. But go on withyour story."

"Well, I couldn't find any means of entrance and exit except by the door, andthen it occurred to me that I might possibly light upon a clue. Finally I foundthis lying on the floor, and I should like you to read it. You may find itinteresting."

With these words Walter took from his pocket the dingy yellow handbill, andlaid it open on the table so that Ravenspur might read. The latter glanced atthe printed words, and then turned to Walter with a questioning eye.

"What does it all mean?" he asked. "It conveys nothing whatever to me, and,even if it did, I am the last man in the world to patronise entertainments ofthat kind."

"He is a kind of flying man. He is an individual with extraordinarilydeveloped arms and muscles. He can move those arms almost as quickly as a flydoes in its flight; with the aid of specially prepared wings he can flutterabout a stage like a bird. I daresay there is some secret behind it all, butstill the performance is very graceful and attractive, though, as yet, the mantells me his flight is limited to some thirty feet."

"He tells you!" Ravenspur exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you haveactually paid a visit to this theatre?"

"Certainly I have, sir. You see, I regarded this bill as a kind of clue. Iknew that you could not possibly have brought it into the house, nor were any ofyour friends likely to do so. Therefore I came to the not illogical conclusionthe other night that your assailant must have dropped it. The man who got intothe studio must have been an extraordinary climber or something exceedinglyclever in the way of an acrobat. In fact, just the sort of fellow who would beconnected with music halls and circuses and places of that kind. That is why Iwent down to the Imperial Palace Theatre together with a journalist friend ofmine who takes an interest in such matters. The only item of the entertainmentworth watching was this man Valdo, and, of course, up to a certain point I didnot identify him with the outrage upon yourself."

"Why should you do so now?" Ravenspur asked. "I told you that I have neverseen or heard of the man, nor does he answer to any acquaintance of mine. Why,then, should you go out of your way to suggest that he had even been here?"

"I am coming to that," Walter said quietly. "I was so interested in theperformance that I went round to Valdo's dressing-room afterwards, and had along chat with him. Just before I came away a woman looked into the room, andasked the performer if he was ready, or something of that kind. She did notnotice me; indeed, she did not even look in my direction. It was only just for amoment that I caught a glimpse of her face. It was only by a great effort that Iconcealed my feelings. And when I tell you that the woman I am speaking aboutwas Mrs. Delahay----"

"Impossible!" Ravenspur cried in great agitation. "The thing is absolutelyincredible. I cannot believe it."

"Nevertheless, I am stating nothing but the truth," Walter said. "As sure asI am standing here I saw Mrs. Delahay. And now you know why I am sure that thereis something more behind this than has yet come to light."

CHAPTER XII.

A SPEAKING LIKENESS.

It was some little time before Lord Ravenspur replied. For a moment or two heseemed to be bereft of the gift of speech.

"It sounds almost incredible," he managed to stammer at length. "You areabsolutely certain you are not mistaken?"

"No, I am not mistaken. Mrs. Delahay's face is far too striking a one to betaken for that of anybody else. Of course, I am not asking you to give me anyinformation. I am not seeking to pry into your secrets; but this mystery maddensme. The most extraordinary part of the whole affair is this--for three years onand off I have known Mrs. Delahay intimately. I saw a great deal of her inFlorence, also in Paris last year. And she has always given me the impression ofbeing absolutely straightforward and single minded. And now, for some reason oranother, she has taken it into her head to tell deliberate lies which appear tohave no point or meaning. If she had only said that she went to call upon afriend after her husband had gone out, no further question would have beenasked. Of course, I had not forgotten the evidence of the man Stevens. I mustconfess I should like to see him and ask him a few pointed questions. But apartfrom all that, you must see the necessity of getting Mrs. Delahay to tell thetruth. It is just possible that she is shielding somebody. It is just possiblethat the whole thing is capable of explanation. But of that you are the bestjudge."

"It is a miserable business altogether," Ravenspur groaned. "I am obliged toyou for the straightforward way in which you have told me everything, and I willdo my best with Maria Delahay. She refused to see me this morning, but I will goround after dinner and make another attempt to get an interview."

It was somewhat later in the evening that Walter looked up his friendVenables again. As he expected, he found the journalist to be greatly interestedin the Delahay case. Walter had debated the matter over in his mind. He couldsee no harm in telling Venables what he had discovered.

"It is certainly a curious case," the latter remarked. "And professionalinterests apart, I should like to get to the bottom of this mystery. But I seeyou have some suggestion to make in connection with it. What is your idea?"

"Well, I have been thinking it out as I came along," Walter explained; "andit seems to me that we might get a good deal out of the witness John Stevens. Heis the sort of man who would do anything for money, and a sovereign or two oughtto loosen his tongue. I don't want to say anything unkind about Louis Delahay,because he was a great friend of ours; and, so far as I know, his past is aclean and honourable one. But then you never can tell. What is a man like thatdoing to make an enemy, who is prepared to run the risk of being hanged forkilling him? And why does he want to go round to his studio at such an hour inthe morning?"

"I thought of all that," Venables said grimly. "Depend upon it, yourunfortunate friend had some secret chapters in his life of which the world willprobably never know anything. But what has all this got to do with that fellowStevens?"

"I was just coming to that point. If I had been the coroner I should haveasked Stevens a great many more questions this morning. As it was, theauthorities seemed content to let him go after he had given evidence to theeffect that he had seen Mrs. Delahay with her husband. He told the court that hehad been prowling and spying about Fitzjohn Square for some months, and he gavea pretty plain hint to the effect that he could tell a story or two about someof the inhabitants there. Now, for six months or more before Delahay went toFlorence to be married, he lived a bachelor life at this house; and all thistime Stevens was prowling about the neighbourhood after dark. It is not a verypleasant thing to have to do, but I should like to talk the matter over withStevens and see if he can give us any information as regards Delahay. If youwill telephone to Scotland Yard and get them to give you Stevens' address, wewill go round to his rooms and interview him at once."

It was no difficult matter to get the address in question, and presently thetwo friends reached the shabby house in the dingy street where Stevens lived. Anexceedingly dirty child informed the visitors that Mr. Stevens was out atpresent, but that he always left his whereabouts behind him in case he might berequired professionally. At the present moment, the precocious child informedthe strangers, Mr. Stevens could be found at the Imperial Palace Theatre inVauxhall Bridge Road.

"That is a bit of a coincidence," Venables remarked. "However, we can't dobetter than go down to the theatre."

There was some little trouble in finding Stevens, and the performance wasnearly at an end before he was pointed out to Walter by one of the attendants.He appeared to be none too sober, judging by his flushed face and somewhatunsteady gait; though, since the morning, his wardrobe had undergone a decidedchange for the better. The greasy, seedy frock-coat had vanished. Also thedilapidated silk hat. In fact the man looked quite prosperous.

"I would suggest that we don't speak to him in here," Venables said. "Let usfollow him out into the road."

Walter fell in at once with the idea. In the road Stevens paused as ifwaiting for somebody, and presently from the stage door there appeared the slim,graceful figure of Valdo. For some moments the two men stood in earnestconversation together, and from their attitude it was plainly evident that theywere in hot dispute upon some point. The discussion lasted some little time.Then with a shrug of his shoulders, Valdo put his hand in his pocket and passeda coin or two over to his companion. Stevens was understood to say something tothe effect that that would suffice for the present. Then he lounged off down theroad and paused presently before a public-house which glittered invitinglyopposite.

"Catch him before he goes in there," Venables whispered hurriedly. "If thefellow has any more to drink he will be perfectly useless to us for the rest ofthe evening."

"I think your name is Stevens," the latter said. "My friend here is ajournalist and is greatly interested in the Fitzjohn Square mystery. We havebeen reading your evidence of this morning, and have come to the conclusion thatyou may be able to afford us some useful information. If you will answer a fewquestions we will make it worth your while."

"Then I am your man," Stevens exclaimed with alacrity. "Perhaps you wouldn'tmind coming round as far as my rooms. I have got a pretty poor memory forthings, so I always jot everything down in my diary. I put everything downpretty well, because you never know what information is likely to be useful. Ionce made fifty pounds out of the simple fact that I saw a footman reading somepostcards he was posting. Since then I have neglected no trifles."

"What we want," Walter explained, "is all you can tell us about Mr. LouisDelahay. You know him very well by sight, and you must be acquainted with someof his habits."

"I could open your eyes about a few of them in that neighbourhood," he said."I haven't been loafing about Fitzjohn Square all these months for nothing. If Iwere a blackmailer, which I am not, I could live on the fat of the land. That istoo dangerous a game to play, and I prefer to get along as I am."

The man was evidently in a condition when he was past concealing anything. Hechattered away glibly until his rooms were reached. Then with a flourish heopened the door and invited his visitors to enter. He apologised for the factthat he had nothing whereon to entertain the strangers, which apology was dulyaccepted. It was, perhaps, on the whole, a fortunate thing that Stevens' cellarwas empty. He ushered his companions into a grimy room, stuffy from want of air,and reeking with the odour of stale tobacco smoke.

"You will excuse me for a moment," he said politely. "I will go into mybedroom and get my diary. I suppose pretty well all you want to know hashappened quite lately."

"It is the last six months with which we are chiefly concerned," Walterexplained. "Before that does not matter."

Stevens turned away and closed the door behind him. He was gone some littletime, so that his visitors had ample opportunity to take stock of theirsurroundings. There was nothing in the place of any value except a smallcircular picture in a handsome frame, depicting a beautiful face, which wasevidently the work of some artist of repute. The painting was so glaringly outof place that it immediately attracted Venables' attention.

"My word, you may well ask that," Walter cried in surprise. "Here is anotheramazing discovery! You remember my uncle being robbed of some pictures a fewyears ago, one of which he declared was the best thing he had ever done?"

"Indeed, I do," Walter said under his breath. "I declare to you that thepainting hanging up there is the one which my uncle always considered hismasterpiece."

CHAPTER XIII.

A STRIKING LIKENESS.

Venables regarded the painting with deep interest. All his journalisticinstincts were now aroused. It appeared to him that he was on the eve of tappinga perfect gold mine of sensational "copy."

"Now are you quite sure you are not making a mistake?" he asked. "You havenot been misled by some chance likeness, because this is rather an importantmatter for me. My people expect smartness, but they have a rooted objection tomistakes."

"I tell you there is no mistake here," Walter Lance said definitely. "I amprepared to swear that that portrait was painted by my uncle. Of course, youremember the sensation there was at the time when the pictures were stolen. Theyvanished from the studio in the most mysterious fashion. Two of them were ofcomparative unimportance, but yonder work my uncle reckons to be the best thinghe has ever done. And I quite agree with him."

"Well, my uncle always denies it. He says the face is more or less a fancyone. And while he is prepared to admit that it is coloured by recollection, hesays it is not intended for anybody in particular. But I can see a likenessthere."

"Of course you can, and a very strong one, too," Venables exclaimed. "Do youmean to tell me that your uncle cannot see that that picture is Miss VeraRayne?"

"That is the point I have put to him more than once. He says he can't see itat all. And there are others who share the same opinion. On the other hand,there are certain friends of ours who take the same view of it as I do myself."

"And they are right," Venables said vigorously. "My word, we appear to beonly on the fringe of this mystery! It occurs to me that the thief who stolethat picture did not steal it for the mere sake of gain, but merely because itiswhat it is. No doubt the other two works were merely stolen as ablind. I don't wish to appear curious, my dear fellow, but what relation is MissRayne to Lord Ravenspur or yourself?"

"Ah, that I can't tell you," Walter replied. "Strange as it may seem, myuncle has always refused to say anything about Miss Rayne's antecedents. All Iknow is that she is well bred, exceedingly beautiful, and perfect in every way."

"Oh, of course," Venables said hastily. "But here is Stevens back again. Itwouldn't be a bad plan to ask him point blank where that picture comes from."

Walter nodded his approval as Stevens came back into the room with a notebookin his hand. He started uneasily as Venables literally fired the question athim. But there was no time for the man to prevaricate.

"It doesn't belong to me," he said. "As a matter of fact, it is the propertyof a man who used to lodge with me some time ago."

"Well, it is a very fine piece of work," Venables said, in a matter-of-factvoice. "I suppose your friend is a poor man; otherwise he would not live in aplace like this. Do you think he would like to sell the picture?"

Stevens replied, with obvious confusion, that he could not say. His friendwas not an Englishman, and where he was to be found at that moment Stevens couldnot say. There appeared to be nothing more for it but to change the subject.Then, as he stood looking at the painted face, a sudden inspiration come toWalter. He wondered why he had not thought of it before. His mind went swiftlyback to the moment in the studio when Lord Ravenspur had appeared so disturbedover the unexpected finding of the photograph by one of his guests. Here was thephoto idealised. Could there be any connection between the thief of the pictureand Lord Ravenspur's midnight guest?

"Perhaps I can stimulate your memory," he said. "Isn't your friend anItalian? Hasn't he got something to do with the variety stage? Come, you cananswer my question; surely it is an easy one. Isn't your friend in London at thepresent moment?"

Stevens stammered and hesitated. There was something like fear in his eyes ashe glanced furtively at the questioner. Lance felt quite sure that he was on theright track now.

"Now, look here," he said. "We have come on important business, and if yourefuse to help us, we may find some other way of inducing you to tell the truth.On the other hand, there need be no unpleasantness, and there is no reason whyyou shouldn't put a five-pound note in your pocket. Now isn't that picture theproperty of a man named Valdo who is at present under engagement at the ImperialPalace Theatre? Now, yes or no."

"I don't know how you found it out," Stevens said, wriggling aboutuncomfortably. "But it is true enough. Valdo was living with me about threeyears ago. He came back one night with the picture in his possession."

"He brought it rolled up. The frame was put upon it a day or two later bySilva himself."

"That is his stage name," Stevens explained. "You see, Silva had not come toEngland very long. He was very poor then, and I understood that he was lookingfor some Englishman, who had promised him employment whenever he crossed theChannel."

"That I can't tell you," Stevens went on. "Silva is very close about his ownaffairs, and I believe that he belonged to some secret society. He told me thepicture had been painted for him by a clever compatriot of his, who was tryingto make a name for himself. Of course, it was nothing to me, and I asked noquestions about it. When Silva went away to fulfil an engagement up in theNorth, he asked me to take care of the portrait, and it has been hanging on thewall opposite ever since. I hope there is nothing wrong about it."

"Indeed there is," Lance said significantly. "Now, if you would like to helpus, we will make it worth your while. If you don't, why, it is more thanpossible that you may find yourself in an awkward position. I don't mind tellingyou that that portrait was painted by Lord Ravenspur, and that it was stolen onenight from his studio some three years ago."

"I recollect it," he cried; "I recollect it perfectly. I remember that therewas a great outcry at the time, and that a large reward was offered for therecovery of the pictures. Lord, if I had only known. And to think that all thistime----"

"That reward would have been yours," Venables smiled grimly. "You would nothave allowed your friendship for this man Silva----"

"Friendship!" Stevens said contemptuously. "What is friendship where money isconcerned? And, after all, Silva was no real pal of mine. Precious little use hewas to me."

"Oh, you'll find us useful enough if you play your cards correctly," Venablessaid. "We happen to know that you are on good terms with this man Valdo, orSilva, whatever you call him. In fact, we know that he gave you money tonight.You are quite astute enough to see how much better it will pay you to be on ourside. Therefore, you will see the advantage of saying nothing to this Italianabout our visit here tonight. Here is a five-pound note to go on with, and if Iwant you again, as is exceedingly probable, I will write to you and tell youwhere to meet me. I don't think we need detain you any more at present."

"Then you don't want to know anything about Fitzjohn Square?" Stevens asked."I can tell you a thing or two."

"I think that will keep for the present," said Lance. "Good-night, andremember that silence is your policy."

Stevens grinned and nodded as he tucked the five-pound note into hiswaistcoat pocket. His recent visitors went off together in the direction ofVenables' rooms.

"That was a brilliant inspiration of yours," the latter said, presently."Now, what on earth put it into your head to ask if that man Valdo had anyconnection with the stolen pictures? To my mind, your question was almost aninspiration."

"Well, hardly that," Lance proceeded to explain. "But, first of all, let metell you the events which led up to our discovery tonight. I think you ought toknow. I am quite sure that the secret is safe in your hands. Now listen,carefully."

Venables listened carefully enough to Walter's extraordinary story of thestrange photograph, and of the mysterious attack on Lord Ravenspur in hisstudio, and the subsequent discovery of the yellow handbill. In the light ofthese disclosures everything was perfectly plain to a mind so astute as that ofVenables. He shook his head gravely.

"This looks like a vendetta," he said. "You may depend upon it that Miss VeraRayne is the unconscious cause of all the mischief. Of course, I am treading ondelicate ground now, but I suppose it is just possible that Miss Rayne may beLord Ravenspur's daughter. We know that Ravenspur used to spend a great part ofhis time in Corsica, and everybody is aware of the fact that love-making outthere is a dangerous business. It looks very much to me as if this man Valdo wasworking out a plan of revenge, either on his own behalf, or on behalf of somenoble family, hailing from that picturesque corner of Europe. My theory isfurther strengthened by the mysterious way in which these things have comeabout. See how anxious your uncle is to keep everything out of the hands of thepolice. I feel quite sure now that the death of Louis Delahay is all part of thesame drama. It wouldn't be a bad plan to mention Luigi Silva's name to youruncle, and ask him if he has ever heard of the man before."

"That is a good idea," Walter exclaimed. "I'll ask my uncle the questionbefore I go to bed tonight."

CHAPTER XIV.

RETROSPECTION.

Most of the lights in the houses in Park Lane were out when Walter reachedhis uncle's residence. But as he entered the hall he could see that the studiowas still ablaze. The door was closed, but a thin shaft of light penetrated frombeneath. As Walter tried the door he found to his surprise that it was locked.With some feeling of apprehension he called to his uncle, and a moment laterRavenspur turned the key. His face was pale. There was in his eyes a look whichspoke of some vague fear.

"My dear boy, I am only too pleased to have a companion," Ravenspur saideagerly. "Upon my word, my nerves are so much shaken by these terriblehappenings that I am almost afraid to be alone. Sit down and have a cigarette."

Walter took a cigarette from the silver box on a little table, nor did hefail to note the presence of a stand of spirits, which was a thing in which hisuncle rarely, or never, indulged.

"I really needed a stimulant tonight," Ravenspur said, half apologetically."Where have you been all the evening?"

"I have been out making discoveries," Walter said, as he threw himself downinto a comfortable armchair, "and one of my discoveries has been reallyremarkable. To be perfectly candid, Venables and myself have been doing a littleprivate detective business together. Venables was by no means satisfied thatthat fellow Stevens had told all he knew at the inquest on poor Delahay, so wehunted Mr. Stevens up, and finally ran him to earth in his dingy lodgings."

"And did he give you any valuable information?" Ravenspur asked eagerly. "Wasit worth your while?"

"Indeed, it was, as you will see for yourself, sir. As soon as ever we gotinto the room I was struck by a picture there. One does not usually find greatworks of art in a bed-sitting room at five shillings a week. And when you see apicture like that, worth a couple of thousand pounds at least, it naturallyarouses your curiosity. And when, on the top of that, the picture is perfectlyfamiliar to you, why, my dear uncle----"

"In this very studio; you painted it here, sir. It is one of the threepictures which were stolen from you some time ago. Oh, you need not shake yourhead, uncle. I assure you that I have not made the slightest mistake. I leaveyou to guess which of the three pictures it was that I saw in that drearybed-sitting room."

"I think I can tell you," Ravenspur groaned. "It was the fancy portrait. Someinstinct tells me so."

"You are quite right, sir," Walter went on. "It was the portrait, surelyenough. But it did not belong to Stevens, as you will probably have guessed bythis time. It had been left in his care by an Italian friend, who gave a veryplausible reason for being in possession of so valuable a work. I understandthat this Italian's name was Luigi Silva. Have you heard of him?"

Lord Ravenspur rose from his chair, and walked agitatedly up and down thestudio. It was some little time before he spoke, and then his words came slowlyand painfully.

"I see you know more than I had expected," he said. "For instance, you haveformed the conclusion that this Luigi Silva stole that picture. In fact, that hecame here on purpose to get possession of it, and that he took two othercanvases at the same time to prevent us finding out his real motive. Tilltonight I had not the remotest idea why this Luigi Silva wanted that portrait,because the loss of the other pictures utterly deceived me, as it was intendedto do. Now I know better."

"Oh, yes; you wanted to know if I was personally acquainted with this man. Asa matter of fact, I am not, though I have heard far too much about him for mypeace of mind. But tell me, how did you manage to ascertain the fellow's propername?"

"That, of course, we got from Stevens," Walter explained. "Silva is inEngland ostensibly as a music hall artist; in other words, he is Valdo, theflying man that I told you about a little time ago. But don't you think we aregetting rather from the point, uncle? I want to know the history of this man."

Once more Ravenspur commenced his walk up and down the room. He seemed to behovering between two minds.

"Perhaps it would be wiser if I were to tell you everything," he said. "I didnot intend to do so, but to a certain extent you have forced my hand, and itwould be much more prudent for you to know where you stand. You asked me justnow what I knew of this man Silva. Eighteen years ago he was in the employ of agreat friend of mine, Count Boris Flavio. My unfortunate friend is forgottennow, but at the time of which I am speaking he enjoyed almost a Europeanreputation. To begin with, he was an exceedingly rich man. He had one of themost beautiful places on the Continent, situated not far from Florence. Had hebeen poor, Flavio would have shone in any line he chose to take up. He was afine artist, a notable sculptor, and one or two of his books attracted greatattention. In addition to this, he had few rivals as an all-round sportsman. Hisconversation was brilliant, his appearance and manners left nothing to bedesired. Out of the scores of notable men I have met in my time, there is notone of them to whom I was so deeply attached as I was to Boris Flavio. Hisviews, his sympathies, his extraordinary grasp of character all appealedstrongly to me. So far as I know, he had no secrets from me, and it came almostas a shock one day when I had a letter from him saying that he was about to bemarried. Naturally one expected such a man to make a brilliant match, but, onthe contrary, Flavio chose a wife from people of whom one had hardly heard. Onthe score of family, Carlotta Descarti had nothing with which to reproachherself. And here comes in the strange part of the affair. The Descartis and theFlavios had estates which touched one another, and between the two familiesthere had been a feud for centuries. It was a veritable Montague and Capuletbusiness, and I daresay it was this factor in the case that so strongly appealedto my friend Flavio. Mind you, I did not learn these facts till long after, andit so happened that circumstances prevented my attending Flavio's wedding, and Inever saw his wife. Two years later I received an urgent and mysterious messagefrom Flavio to go and see him secretly, and meet him in the grounds of hisestate without letting a soul know that I was there. . . . I never saw a man sochanged as my unhappy friend. It appeared that he had married a woman who was aperfect fiend. She had made more than one attempt upon his life, and he feltcertain that the end was not far off. When I asked him why he tolerated such astate of things, he told me it was for the sake of his little girl, to whom hewas passionately attached. And then he bound me to an extraordinary promise.Mind you, I would not have made that rash promise to any other friend, but suchwas the charm and magnetism of the man that I never even hesitated. And this iswhat I had to do. If anything happened to my friend, if he died mysteriously, Iwas to go to Italy at once, and, by fair means or foul, get the child away fromthe baneful influence of her mother. Oh, you may look at me with astonishment,Walter, but stranger things happen every day.

"I went away fully intending to keep my promise if occasion arose, and I wasnot surprised to hear a few months later that poor Flavio had been found dead inhis room. It was proved that he had been poisoned, and suspicion immediatelyfell upon his wife. On and off, the case lasted three or four years, and causeda tremendous sensation throughout Europe. Beyond all question the wife wasguilty enough, but she managed to prove an extraordinaryalibi, which sopuzzled the jury that they disagreed no fewer than five times. After that theauthorities recognised the futility of further proceedings, and the countess wasreleased. What became of her I don't know, for she disappeared, and, as far as Ican tell, has never been seen from that day to this. But most assuredly shewould have been convicted had it not been for the devotion of a servant of herswhom she had brought from her old home with her. This servant's name was LuigiSilva. It was he who saved his mistress. I am firmly convinced it was he whoengineered that marvellousalibi, and coached his witnesses so cleverlythat there was no flaw in their evidence. I was not present at any of thetrials, because I could not manage to get away, but I read enough to convince methat this Luigi Silva had talents and courage far above the common."

"Oh, I had almost forgotten the main part of my story," Ravenspur proceeded."The more I read of that case, the more convinced I was that I should be doingright in carrying out my promise to my dead friend. It was not a difficultmatter. It only meant a journey to Italy and back, and the little one was in mysafe custody. I leave you to guess what that child is called now."

"Quite so. From that day to this she has been with me always. But, mind you,I was not blind to the risk I was taking. If ever the truth came out, my lifewas not worth much. I knew that I should be tracked and followed, and finallylose my life, even if the search took twenty years. But, gradually, as the timewore on, I became easy in my mind. I had taken the utmost precautions to blindmy trail, and the only accomplice I had was my old nurse, who has been dead forsome years. Besides, Vera was growing up, and it seemed to me impossible toidentify her with the baby not quite two years old. She is not in the least likeher father, either, and that is why I made a mistake. I had quite forgotten thatshe might be very like her mother, and she I have never seen."

CHAPTER XV.

DALLAS MAKES A DISCOVERY.

"My dear boy, that is just where the danger comes in," Ravenspur replied. "Ihaven't the remotest idea whether Vera is like or unlike her mother, but I fearthat she must be, otherwise that man Silva would never have got on my track, asI have felt quite sure lately that he has done. Doubtless in some of hiswanderings he has seen the girl, he has recognised the likeness, and made up hismind that he has found the object of his search at last. You see, he has only tomake a few inquiries amongst the servants, who would tell him that Vera is myward, and that, as to the rest, she is more or less of a beautiful mystery. Onecan understand now why he should come to my studio and steal that portrait."

"I think I can see a better theory than that," Walter said. "Wasn't theportrait exhibited before it came back to the studio again? I seem to remembersomething of the kind."

"Of course it was," Ravenspur exclaimed. "I had quite forgotten that. Silvamust have got his inspiration from the picture. I suppose that is why he madethat murderous attack upon Sir James Seton the other night, taking him, ofcourse, for me. But that is not the first warning I have had of the impendingdanger, and I am afraid it won't be the last."

"But, surely, you are not going to take it like this, sir?" he expostulated."By greatest good fortune we have discovered who your mysterious foe is. I thinkit has been a wonderful slice of luck, and we ought to take advantage of it.Surely you couldn't do any less than place the matter in the hands of thepolice, telling them all that has happened. At any rate, you can do nothingelse. They can drive this man Silva out of the country. If I may be allowed asuggestion, you will let Inspector Dallas know without delay. If you don't careto tell him yourself, let me broach the matter. Indeed, it seems my imperativeduty to do so. If you fell by the hand of this man now I should feel morallyresponsible for your death. And, besides, if anything happens to you, what arewe going to do about Vera? She is not yet of age. She might at any moment beclaimed by her mother, who you say is a perfect fiend. And, besides, though thisis a minor matter, I am deeply attached to Vera myself----"

"Oh, I know, I know," Ravenspur groaned. "The thing is hedged round withtroubles and difficulties. You know why I was against your marriage with Vera,and how greatly distressed I was when I found everything out. If there had beennothing in the way, nobody would have been more delighted at a match like thatthan myself. But you see the danger, though you little know how deep andfar-reaching those Corsican vengeances are. How do I know that if you marry Verayou would not be marked down for the same fate as myself?"

"I am prepared to risk that," Walter said grimly. "Still, at the presentmoment, we have far more important things to talk about. And Vera must knownothing of this."

"My dear boy, of course not. I should never dream of telling her. But sooneror later she must discover everything for herself, I am afraid. I have beenthinking over what you said just now, and perhaps it would be as well to let thepolice know."

"Well, no, I don't propose to do it at all. You have been so clever andcool-headed in this matter that I have decided to leave everything to you. Thewhole problem is so complicated that I am utterly unable to grasp it. I can seeno connection between the two, but I am perfectly certain that the death of poorDelahay is all part of the coil."

"I feel that, too," Walter said. "But we need not concern ourselves aboutthat at present. By the way, have you seen anything of Mrs. Delahay to-day?"

"She won't see me," Ravenspur replied. "She obstinately refuses to seeanybody. She remains wilfully blind to the fact that she is in a seriousposition. You see, she declared in her evidence in chief that she had not beenoutside the hotel on the night of the murder, and yet on the testimony of threeindependent witnesses we have it that she was away upwards of three hours. Ofcourse, that man Stevens is a very suspicious character, but he could havenothing to gain by swearing that he saw Mrs. Delahay with her husband very earlyin the morning in Fitzjohn Square. Moreover, the man's evidence was not in theleast shaken. What to make of it I don't know. I wish you would try and see her.You know her far better than I do, because you were a deal in Italy beforeDelahay's marriage, and I think she likes you. Of course, she might have somestrong reasons for leaving the hotel and for keeping the thing a secret, and shemay be utterly and entirely innocent. But, really she ought to tell her bestfriends what is the meaning of this mystery."

Walter glanced at his watch. It still wanted some minutes to eleven o'clock,and it was no far cry to the Grand Hotel. A hansom took him there in tenminutes. Mrs. Delahay had not yet retired for the night, and Walter sent up hiscard, with a few urgent words pencilled on it. A maid came down presently withthe information that Mrs. Delahay would see him for a moment.

She came into her sitting-room perfectly calm and self-possessed, though thedeadly whiteness of her face and the scintillating of her eyes told of thetorture that was going on within.

"I wish you would let me help you," Walter said as they shook hands. "I wishyou would be advised by me. My uncle tells me that you refused to see himaltogether."

"I was bound to," Mrs. Delahay said in a low voice. "Oh, I know exactly whatyou want. I am the victim of a set of extraordinary circumstances. My innocentlie may get me into serious trouble. I am not blind to that knowledge, but atthe same time I cannot speak. I must allow people to think the worst. But Iswear to you if it is the last word I ever utter, that I was not with myhusband. I was not the woman the witness identified as the person he had seenwith Louis Delahay in Fitzjohn Square that terrible morning."

The words were quietly, almost coldly, uttered, but Walter believed them ashe would perhaps have refused to believe a passionate outburst on the speaker'spart.

"But surely," he argued, "you can give some account of your movements. Youcan say why you went out and what for?"

"I cannot," Maria Delahay went on in the same even tones. "There are the mostpressing reasons why I should keep silent. My dear Mr. Lance, I am grateful fromthe bottom of my heart for all your sympathy and kindness, but nothing can moveme from my determination. After all said and done, the police can prove nothingagainst me. For the rest of my life I shall be a person to be shunned andavoided, but I shall know how to bear my punishment uncomplainingly. And inconclusion, I am quite convinced of this--if I told you everything, you wouldsay that I was perfectly justified in the course I am taking. Further argumentis useless."

Walter saw the futility of it, too. He saw in the woman's averted head andoutstretched hand, the sign that he was no longer needed, and that the interviewwas at an end. By no means satisfied he made his way down to the vestibuleintent upon seeing Inspector Dallas without further delay. He was not surprisedto find the object of his search engaged in discussion with the clerk.

"You are the very man I want to see," he said. "If you have ten minutes tospare, I think I can give you some useful information. I have just been having along conversation with Lord Ravenspur, and he has asked me to lay certain factsbefore you."

"I can come with you now," Dallas said. "We can talk as we go along the road.Now, sir."

"It is rather a long story," Walter said. "I suppose you Scotland Yard peoplekeep yourselvesau fait with most of the sensational crimes which takeplace on the Continent? I suppose, for instance, you remember the death bypoisoning of Count Boris Flavio, and how his wife was charged no fewer than fivetimes with the crime?"

"That is a most extraordinary thing," he said. "I don't mind telling you thatwithin the last day or two, or rather within the last few hours, we haveblundered upon a startling light on that crime. It so happens that an Italiandetective, who has come here to take a prisoner back to Rome, has interestedhimself in the Fitzjohn business, more or less because Mrs. Delahay is Italianherself. This detective Berti was not in court during the inquest, but he cameround here an hour or two ago and expressed a casual wish to see Mrs. Delahay.He managed to do so for a moment, and then he made a statement that fairly tookmy breath away. But come with me as far as Scotland Yard and you shall hear himtell the story himself. I won't spoil it for him."

A little while later Walter found himself in the presence of a slim,diminutive man, with a fierce moustache and an exceedingly mild, insinuatingmanner.

"This is my friend Berti," Dallas explained. "And this, Berti, is Mr. WalterLance, nephew of Lord Ravenspur. He mentioned the Flavio case to me just nowwith a view to getting a little information. I told him that you had had thewhole business in hand, and you had better let him know that you are in aposition to place your finger upon the Countess Flavio at any moment."

"Oh, that is an easy matter," Berti said. "I had the privilege of seeing theCountess this evening; but she does not call herself countess now. She is Mrs.Louis Delahay."

CHAPTER XVI.

STRONG MEASURES.

"You have made a most extraordinary mistake," Walter said. "On and off I haveknown Mrs. Delahay for some considerable time. I am quite certain that she is norelation whatever to Countess Flavio."

"And I, sir, am equally positive," the Italian detective replied. "I think myfriend Inspector Dallas told you just now that I had the Flavio case in handfrom the first. Indeed, I have had many conversations with the Countess. Sopositive am I that I am right that I will be prepared to make an affidavit ofthe facts."

"This is very strange," Lance murmured. "I cannot but believe that you havebeen deceived by a strong likeness between two different women. I know all aboutMrs. Delahay. She comes from a very good Italian family, though I believe theywere poor; they were exceedingly proud and exclusive, and until the death of herparents, Mrs. Delahay lived a life of almost monastic seclusion."

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me her name?" Berti asked. "It mightfacilitate matters."

"Certainly," Walter Lance replied. "Before she was married Mrs. Delahay wasSignora Descarti."

"That is assuredly a point in my favour," he said, "seeing that CountessFlavio also was Signora Descarti."

Lance began to feel less sure of his ground. It appeared to him that themystery was deeper than he had anticipated, and the more he came to investigate,the more bewildering the puzzle was. Certainly he had known Maria Delahay forthe last three years on and off, but when he came to think over matters itstruck him for the first time with peculiar force that, really, he knew littleor nothing of Maria Delahay's antecedents. He well recollected the time whenLouis Delahay announced his approaching marriage. He recalled that eveningperfectly. Delahay had been a self-contained sort of man, and one of the lastpersons in the world to associate with matrimony, but he seemed to have foundhis fate at length, and had quite come out of his shell, discussing his futurewife with Lance.

And what was it that he had told him after all? In the first instance,Signora Descarti was no longer in the bloom of her youth. In the second place,she was shy and retiring, possibly because, up to a certain time, she had livedsuch a secluded life. Despite the fact that she was of excellent family, she wasearning a precarious living with her brush, and Delahay had hinted that therehad been a romance in her early days which had coloured her life. Really, beyondthis, Walter Lance had no knowledge of this unhappy woman's past, and he did notforget that the Flavio affair was nearly twenty years old. Except by the police,the thing was absolutely forgotten. It was almost impossible that anybodybesides these authorities would recognise Carlotta, Countess Flavio, at thismoment.

It came upon Lance with quite a shock that his unfortunate friend, after all,might have married a woman who had been tried five times on the capital charge.Eighteen years is a long span in a human life, and many changes can happen inthat time.

Lance put aside the uneasy thoughts that rose to his mind, and turned toBerti again.

"That is distinctly a point in your favour," he said. "I confess that thefact that both ladies possessed the same maiden name comes as a shock to me. Andyet, even now, I can't altogether abandon the idea that this is nothing morethan a coincidence. But, tell me, what opinion did you form of Countess Flavio'scharacter?"

"Enigma," he said, "the woman seemed to be without feeling altogether, fromthe time that I arrested her until her final acquittal I never knew her displayany feeling at all. Even when I had to announce to her that she was at liberty,she gave no sign of pleasure or relief. She was like a creature who had beendeprived of all the emotions, like some people you see who are deeply addictedto the drug habit. I have seen her execrated by a mob of excited people, andtaking no more notice of them than if she were deaf. Yes; she was a mostextraordinary woman."

"Ah, there you puzzle me," Berti replied. "Upon my word, I don't know.Opinion was so equally divided; in each case the jury was balanced for andagainst. Sometimes I thought the woman was guilty, and sometimes I thought shewas innocent. Of course, it was that extraordinaryalibiwhich saved her life. There was no getting away from it, for the testimony inthe woman's favour was given by people who were total strangers to her. On theother hand, all the household servants came forward one after the other, andgave their mistress a very bad name, indeed. On their testimony she would havebeen executed, without a doubt. If only half they said was true, the CountessFlavio was a fiend."

"Well, one. And he was a manservant who had accompanied the Countess from herown home. According to his account, his mistress was a perfect angel, and theCount was no more nor less than a disgrace to humanity. This testimony passedfor very little, seeing that Count Flavio's neighbours and tenants came forwardand spoke of him as a man of singular charm and virtue."

"I have heard that," Lance said, thoughtfully. "You see, Lord Ravenspur, myuncle, was a great friend of the Count. I understand that he never met theCountess, though he had an interview with the Count not long before his death.According to what Lord Ravenspur says, at that time the Count walked in fear ofhis life. He was very fearful lest his wife should try to destroy him. And nowyou tell me that the Countess Flavio was no less than the wife of my friendDelahay. I don't know what to think about it. I presume that Inspector Dallaswill take steps to assure himself that Mrs. Delahay is the woman you take her tobe."

"Well, yes," Dallas said grimly; "I don't see how the matter can rest here.We know perfectly well that Mrs. Delahay was away from her hotel for upwards oftwo hours on the night of her husband's death. It has been proved that she wasseen in his company. And yet, at the first outset, she declares that she has notbeen outside her bedroom. One doesn't like to come to conclusions; they arefatal things to form in our profession. But it seems to me pretty obvious thatthere is one person who could clear up this mystery, and she happens to be thedead man's wife."

Lance had nothing to say in objection to this. Still, at the same time, therewas a haunting doubt in the back of his mind that circumstances were shapingthemselves against Maria Delahay apart from any faults of her own.

"You haven't enough to justify an immediate arrest, I suppose?" he asked."You see what I mean?"

"Oh, I see perfectly well what you mean, sir," Inspector Dallas replied."There is nothing to gain by such a course. It is impossible for the woman toget away. Indeed, we should take immediate steps to prevent her leaving thecountry. If she is the guilty party, she will be much more use to us as a freewoman than she would be as a suspected criminal under lock and key. But, unlessI am mistaken, Mr. Lance, you came here to tell me something."

"I had clean forgotten all about it," Lance exclaimed. "But as it is gettinglate now, if you don't mind I will leave it till the morning. It is a longstory."

A few moments later and Lance was retracing his steps in the direction of theGrand Hotel. He was going to do wrong; he was going to do something which,sooner or later, might land him in serious trouble, but that did not deter himfor a moment. In the hall of the hotel he scribbled a hasty note, and sent it upto Mrs. Delahay. A message came down in a moment or two to say that Mrs. Delahaywould be pleased to see Mr. Lance.

He found her waiting in the sitting-room, just as cold and pale and impassiveas before.

"Indeed, I have," Lance exclaimed. "I want you to believe that I am actuatedentirely by the friendliest motives, and if I speak plainly you will understandthat I am not wanting in feeling. I have been with Inspector Dallas tonight andhe introduced me to an Italian detective whose name is Berti. The latter assuresme that his name is quite familiar to you."

"He is quite mistaken," Mrs. Delahay said in her cold, even voice. "I don'tknow anybody of that name. As to a policeman, I never had the honour of speakingto one in my life."

"Absolutely. If it were true, what should I have to gain by denying it? Ifyou have anything to say to me, it will be far better to speak quite plainly."

The woman spoke quietly enough. It was impossible to believe that she waswilfully deceiving her questioner.

"Very well, then," Lance said, "I may as well tell you that this man Bertiwas the detective who had the Flavio case in hand. You will remember, of course,what an extraordinary sensation that drama caused in Italy many years ago."

"Did it?" Mrs. Delahay said indifferently. "I never had the slightestinterest in that kind of thing. So far as this particular case is concerned, Inever heard of it before."

Lance could only stare in astonishment. She was speaking and acting now justas, according to Berti, the Countess Flavio had behaved before and during thetrial. Was she the sport of circumstance, or was she the woman she deniedherself to be?

CHAPTER XVII.

LOOKING BACKWARDS.

"That is very strange," Lance murmured. "I am told that the trial in questionwas the talk of Europe for two or three years. I believe the papers were full ofit at the time. And yet you don't seem to have heard of it. Isn't the name ofFlavio familiar to you at all? It is not a common name."

As Lance spoke he saw a swift and subtle change pass over the face of hiscompanion. A flame of colour stained either cheek; then it was gone, leaving herstill more ghastly white than before.

"I have not told you quite the truth," the woman said; "but in twenty yearsone forgets even the keenest of sorrows. Now I come to think of it, the name ofFlavio reminds me of one of the most unhappy experiences in my existence. Therewas a certain Count Flavio whose estates joined those of my father. For somegenerations there had been a deep and bitter feud existing between the Flaviosand the Descartis. The head of the Flavios was a very old man, who had two sons.Not to make a long story of it, the young people met, and fell in love with eachother: the young people on one side being my sister and myself. The intrigue wasfound out, of course, and for the next ten years I was practically a prisoner inmy father's house. He had a gloomy old fortress somewhere up country, and thereI was detained. I might have been there still had my parents lived."

Again the woman hesitated. Again the look of pain and suffering swept like awave across her face.

"They told me my sister was dead," she murmured. "I had to take their wordfor it."

"And you believed it? You believe it still? I hope you will pardon me for mypersistent questions, but it is quite necessary that I should put them. Do youfeel quite convinced?"

Once more Mrs. Delahay hesitated. Once more she seemed to shrink as if inphysical pain.

"How can I know? How can I tell?" she asked. "Did I not say that I had been aprisoner all those years? This would account for the fact that I know nothingabout that Flavio tragedy. Are you going to tell me that it is one and the samefamily to whom my sister and myself were attached?"

"Indeed, I do," Lance went on. "Your Count Flavio had two sons. When he diedhis elder son came into the title and estates. That was the man who wasafterwards poisoned by his wife; at least, a great many people think so. And hiswife's name was Carlotta. Her surname was Descarti. My dear Mrs. Delahay, it isimpossible to believe that this is a coincidence."

"I quite agree with you," Mrs. Delahay said, in a low voice. "They seem tohave deceived me about my sister, and my parents told me that she was dead. Isuppose they meant that she was dead to the family. She must have made herescape, and married her lover after all. I was less fortunate. But what you sayabsolutely overwhelms me. The man that my sister loved was a splendid specimenof humanity; he was kind-hearted and generous; in every sense of the word he wasa gentleman. And I can vouch for my sister's many good qualities. To say thatshe poisoned him is absurd. Why, she simply worshipped him. But, tell me, whatopinion did the world form as to the merits of this extraordinary case?"

'"I want to spare you as much pain as possible," Lance murmured. "But yoursister was held up to execration as a fiend in human form. One servant afteranother gave evidence to this effect. They seemed to think that your sister wasnot altogether sane--but why should I torture you with these details? What Ireally came here to tell you is this. The Italian detective, Berti, who had thecase in hand, is in England at the present moment, and he has seen you. Hedeclares that you are Countess Flavio. You can see how seriously this accusationmay tell against you--later on."

Lance uttered the last two words reluctantly enough, but Mrs. Delahay sawtheir full significance.

"Oh, I know what you mean," she said. "You mean that I have placed myself ina perilous position. But there is one thing I can assure you--I am not theCountess Flavio. If necessary, when the time comes, I can prove this in a mannerwhich would set even that Italian policeman's suspicions at rest. It is verykind of you to take all this trouble on my behalf. I suppose you want me to tellthe whole truth, and say why I denied being away from the hotel the other night,when three people can come forward and show that my statement is false. Well, itwas false. I don't mind going as far as that. But more I cannot and will notsay, except that I am an innocent woman who has been a prey to cruel misfortuneall her life."

There was determination as well as sadness in the words. Lance could see thathe was merely wasting his time.

"Think it well over," he said; "give it every consideration. I will call andsee you again in the morning."

No reply came from Maria Delahay. She merely held out her hand, and Lancetook his leave without another word. Then the woman dropped into a chair, andcovered her face with her hands.

Why did Fate persecute her in this way, she asked herself. Why had her lifebeen such a misery for the past twenty years. Surely all this was a terribleprice to pay for a childish indiscretion. And yet, though the years had beenlong and burdensome, it seemed but a brief step back to the happy, sunny dayswhen she and her sister had been children playing in the woods at home andgetting every drop of enjoyment out of life. Then they had hardly comprehendedthe feud that existed between the Descartis and the Flavios. Indeed, they hadlooked upon it as rather a silly business altogether and a distinct nuisance tomutual friends and neighbours. They had begun to notice, too, that the sons ofold Flavio were good to look upon, and finally one day a slight adventure in thewoods had thrown the young people together.

The thing had begun in a harmless fashion enough. They met again, and yetonce more. They fell in the way of discussing the family quarrel and makinglight of it. From then on the path was pleasant and easy enough, and one day thetwo girls awoke to the fact that they were both deeply in love with the sons oftheir hereditary enemy. It was at this point that stern old Descarti discoveredthe great secret.

What happened after that Maria Descarti hardly knew. There was a terriblestorm of rage and passion, sleepless nights, and tear-bedewed pillows, and thensuch a life of greyness and despair that the girls had never dreamt of. When atlength she ventured courage to ask after her sister, she was told that thelatter was dead. She took this statement literally, and she resigned herself tothe inevitable.

The prison doors were open at length, but only on the death of her parent,and there she was at forty years of age, helpless and friendless, with noknowledge of the world, and nothing to aid her besides her brush and pencil. Thestruggle was indeed a hard one, and it looked like ending at length when shecame in contact with Louis Delahay. She had no strong passion to give him,nothing but the tranquil affection of approaching middle age.

She had been perfectly candid in the matter, and Delahay knew exactly what hehad to expect. Perhaps the prospect of tranquil happiness was far better thanthe rosy dreams of youth. And all this was now shattered by the unexpectedtragedy.

Maria Delahay had reached this point in her thoughts; then her mind wanderedon to what Lance had recently told her. And so, after all, her sister was alive.This knowledge had not reached Maria Delahay tonight. She had suspected it forsome days, and it had come about in quite a prosaic way.

She could see it now quite clearly in her mind. The pleasant-manneredchambermaid had come into the sitting-room soon after Delahay had gone out onthat fatal evening. She had evidently taken a liking to her visitor. Maria couldsee her now as she fussed about the room.

"You seem to have forgotten me," the girl said. "I waited upon you when youwere here last spring."

"Last spring!" Mrs. Delahay exclaimed. "Why, surely, you have made a mistake.I have never been here before."

"Oh, madam," the girl said reproachfully, "you are making fun of me. You camehere by yourself, and stayed for the best part of a week. You had very fewvisitors, and you used to talk to me a good deal. . . . Only the name isdifferent. You used to have Carlotta, not Maria, on the envelopes I brought upto you."

Mrs. Delahay started. With difficulty she restrained her feelings, for thechambermaid's innocent words had let a flood of light in a dark place. In thehappy old days people were constantly mistaking her for her sister. Was itpossible that her sister was still alive? Was it possible that she had beendeceived all this time? A little dissimulation might be the means of getting thetruth from the voluble chambermaid.

"You have sharp eyes," she said, "and, no doubt, a good memory. How long didI stay here, and where did I go afterwards?"

"It was a little over a week," the girl said. "And then you went away toNumber Seventeen, Isleworth Road, Kensington. I remember the address because Ihave a sister in service who used to live next door. Perhaps madam does not wantto be remembered? There are many reasons why it is prudent not to know toomuch."

"I am glad to see you are so discreet," Mrs. Delahay smiled. "There is noreason to mention this to anybody else, you understand?"

CHAPTER XVIII.

AFTER MANY YEARS.

Left alone to herself, Maria Delahay had summed up the situation clearly andlogically. Beyond all doubt her sister was still alive. Beyond all doubtCarlotta had been staying at the Grand Hotel within the past twelve months. She,too, seemed to have had her misfortunes, misfortunes more keen and cruel thaneven those of her younger sister. It was very strange that Maria should learnthe truth in this fashion. It was stranger still that she should discover thehouse to which Carlotta had gone on leaving the hotel. Up to this moment Mariahad no idea of going out herself. She intended to go straight to bed and awaither husband's return.

Now a strange restlessness came over her. She felt it impossible to remainimprisoned within those four walls. There was no likelihood of Louis Delahay'sreturn for the next two hours. Why, then, should she not go out and take a cabas far as Isleworth Road? It was very late, of course, but then London was alate place, and a midnight call no novelty.

Allowing herself to act on the impulse of the moment, Maria walkeddownstairs, and out into the Strand. Hailing a cab, she was driven to IsleworthRoad, where she gave orders for the driver to stop. The locality was arespectable one, and there were lights in a good many of the houses; but atnumber seventeen Mrs. Delahay met with disappointment. The house was not empty,though the blinds were down, and there was not a light to be seen. The dingynature of the steps and the tarnished look of the brasswork testified to thefact that neither had received any attention of late. As Maria stood thereringing the bell for the third time, in the faint hope of making somebody hear,a policeman came along.

"You are wasting your time there, lady," he said civilly enough. "The peopleare not at home. I think they are coming back at the end of the week, because myinstructions to keep a special eye on the house don't go beyond Saturday."

Maria thanked the officer and went back in a cab. She would have liked tohave asked more questions, but she restrained her natural curiosity. After all,it was not a far cry to Saturday, and even then she might meet with adisappointment. In all probability her sister had left London long ago.

Maria was thinking all these things over now that Walter Lance had gone. Shewondered that her sister had so completely passed out of her mind. But, then,she had had so many terrible anxieties to weigh her down. She could not sleepfor thinking of the tragedy. She paced up and down the room in a vain attempt toget away from herself. The clocks outside were striking the hour of midnight,but the roar of the Strand was going on still as if it were high noon. A suddenresolve came to the woman. She would go out at once and try her luck atIsleworth Road again.

She took no cab this time. She knew the way. As she walked along she wasconscious of the fact that she was being followed. She smiled bitterly toherself. What had those people to be afraid of? Did they think she was going torun away?

Her heart gave a great leap as she saw the lights gleaming behind the drawnblinds at No. 17. She had only to ring once, then the door was promptly openedby a typical English servant, who waited for the visitor to speak.

"I think there is a lady here I want to see," Maria stammered. "At least shewas here for some time in the spring. You see, she is my sister, and we have notmet for twenty years. It may appear strange, but I don't even know her name."

It seemed to Maria that this was a proper precaution on her part. Though herexplanation sounded weak enough, to her great relief she saw the servant smileand open the door a little wider.

"That is all right, madam," the servant said. "I can see that you are mymistress's sister by the likeness. Will you please come this way."

The next five minutes seemed like an hour to Maria. Then the door opened, anda tall, dark woman came in. The two looked at one another for quite a minute inabsolute silence. It was so strange to meet after all these years, so sad forboth to see how the other had altered. Then Maria Delahay moved forward, and thetwo women kissed each other almost coldly.

"Why did you come here?" the Countess said. "How did you manage to find meout? I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were dead, too, till the other night," Maria said. "I was toldthat twenty years ago. I should not be here at all but for an amazing chance.You will remember that you were staying at the Grand Hotel some time in thespring, and it so happens that my rooms are on the same floor as yours, and thatthe same chambermaid is still there. When she welcomed me as an old customer Iguessed by instinct that you were still alive. And if you only knew it, there isa providence behind this thing."

Countess Flavio appeared to be listening in a dull, mechanical kind of way.There was no disguising the fact that she was both distressed and disconcertedto find herself face to face with her long-lost sister again. "You know nothingof my history?" she asked. "Not till tonight," Maria said. "I have recently beenlistening to it. I knew nothing. How could I know anything? When our dream ofhappiness came so suddenly to an end I became practically a prisoner in thatdreadful old house of ours near Naples. I was told that you were dead, and Ibelieved the story. I knew nothing of your existence till a day or two ago. Iwas utterly ignorant of the fact that you had had such a dreadful time. Not thatI would believe anything they say, Carlotta, because I know what you were in theold days. But however dreadful your experiences have been, you, at any rate,snatched a brief happiness. You married the man of your choice. How did youmanage to escape?"

"Oh, don't ask me," Carlotta Flavio said bitterly. "If you only kneweverything you would see that you were far better off in your prison than I waswith my liberty. Do you know that I was five times tried for my life? Do youknow that for four years I was the most execrated woman in South Italy? But I amnot going into that now. I want to know what brings you here this evening. Whyyou should come at such an inconvenient time?"

"But why inconvenient?" Mrs. Delahay protested. "We were fond of one anotherin the old times. And what more natural than I should seek out my sister at thefirst opportunity? But you are changed. Doubtless your misfortunes have souredyou. I have had my misfortunes, too. Of course you have heard lately a good dealabout Mr. Louis Delahay--I mean the unfortunate artist who was found murdered inhis studio the other night?"

"Who has not heard of it?" she said. "The papers are full of the tragedy.People are talking about nothing else. But you are not going to tell me thatthere is any connection----"

"Indeed, I am," Maria went on. "As I said just now, for years I was no betterthan a prisoner. I should be a prisoner still if our parents had lived. Then,finally, when I found my freedom, I made a discovery that there was absolutelyno money left. I was forced to get my own living. I had nothing beyond my brush,and things were going from bad to worse with me when I made the acquaintance ofLouis Delahay. We always liked one another from the first, and when he asked meto marry him I gladly consented. It seemed to me that the way was opening up fora happy middle-age. It seemed to me that Fate had got tired of persecuting me atlast. I married Louis Delahay and we came back to England."

"You married Delahay?" the Countess said mechanically, "and you came back toEngland? I am trying to realise it. I read the account of the inquest. I knowthat people are saying that Delahay's wife is responsible for his death; but Idid not dream then that it was my own sister whom folks were condemning. Icannot believe it now. But why did you go out that evening. If you had remainedin your room nobody would have been----"

"I left the hotel to come here," Maria replied. "But I found that you werenot in London. And now I am going to tell you why it is that I have refused tospeak, why it is that I have allowed people to regard me as a perjurer. You sayyou read the account of the inquest. Do you recollect what a poor creaturecalled Stevens said? He swore, and, what is more, he believed every word hesaid, that he saw Louis and myself together in Fitzjohn Square early on thatfatal morning. Come, if you read the paper carefully, you must have seen that.It was the most sensational piece of evidence given at the inquest. The manpicked me out in court, and said positively that he had seen me with Louis. Buthe didn't, as you know perfectly well."

"As I know perfectly well?" the Countess stammered. "What have I got to dowith it? Where do I come in?"

Maria Delahay threw up her hands with an impatient gesture. There was asteady gleam in her eyes now. She had lost all her listless manner.

"I was not there," she said, "because I was somewhere else. That JamesStevens saw someone with my husband on that morning is absolutely certain. It isabsolutely certain, too, that he did not see me. Then who did he see whoselikeness to me is so great as to deceive a pair of keen eyes under a brilliantelectric light? It was you,you, Carlotta, who were walking with myhusband at that hour in the morning. Now tell me what it all means."

CHAPTER XIX.

CARLOTTA'S STORY.

"Of course it is," Maria Delahay cried. "Why don't you be candid with me? Ihave told you what my name is, and, besides, you already knew. When you saw myhusband on that fatal night your likeness to me would have struck him at once,and explanations would have followed. Then why are you trying to deceive menow?"

"I hardly know what I am saying," the Countess replied. "The whole thing issuch a terrible complication. I don't want to deceive you, Maria, and I willtell you all I can. You might believe me or not, but when I read of the death ofLouis Delahay, for the moment I had quite forgotten you. You see it was a greatshock to me when you came in just now, especially as I had not seen you for somany years. But I am getting muddled up again. I am beginning to wonder which ofus is which. It seems to me that all this miserable business is merely theresult of the strong likeness which exists between us."

"Never mind that," Mrs. Delahay cried. "If you will remember, in my evidenceI said my husband had gone out, that he did not return all night, and that Ifound him dead in Fitzjohn Square in the morning. I was out of the hotel fornearly two hours trying to find you, after I had been so strangely put on yourtrack by the chambermaid. Perhaps it was a foolish thing on my part to concealmy absence, but, of course, I never guessed the result of my folly. It neveroccurred to me till afterwards that my absence from the hotel could be so easilyproved. Even that did not matter so much. And when the witness Stevens sworethat he saw me with my husband at a time when I had said I was in my hotel,things began to look serious for me. I know perfectly well that I may bearrested at any moment on a charge of murdering my husband. How true that chargewill be I leave you to judge for yourself. But the mystery was no longer amystery to me when Stevens told the court most positively that he had seen mewith my husband. I did not know that Louis was acquainted with you. He nevermentioned your name, but directly Stevens had finished I knew that it must havebeen you who was with my husband; and now I must ask you to give me anexplanation."

"That is an easier matter than it seems," Countess Flavio said. "I knew LouisDelahay, though he had no acquaintance with me."

"Oh, I know it does, but it is true all the same; and to make my story plainI shall have to go back nearly eighteen years. The events which led to my makingLouis Delahay's acquaintance took place near Florence at the time I mentioned."

"That is strange," Mrs. Delahay murmured. "I was in Florence about then, too.Yes, I know I told you that I was practically a prisoner all those years, butthere were times when I had a certain latitude. I was very ill about that time,and the doctor ordered me to Florence, saying that it was good for me to seepeople and mix with crowds. I was supposed to be there by myself, but there wasno movement of mine which was not noted. I never took even the shortest walkwithout being dogged and spied upon. The people who called themselves myservants were, in reality, my gaolers. But why do I worry you with these trivialdetails when there is so much of importance to say? Go on with your story."

"Well, as I was saying," the Countess explained, "I was in Florence with myhusband. We had been married then something like three years. We had rather alonely villa on the outskirts of the town. Ours was not a happy life; indeed, itwas most miserable. I daresay there were faults on my side, too; but one nightwe had a violent quarrel, and, on the spur of the moment, I made up my mind torun away. I managed to get all my jewels together. I managed to leave the housein darkness and steal through the grounds to the road. I was dressed all inblack, and I remember the night was very thick. Just as I was congratulatingmyself on my escape my husband overtook me. He was beside himself with passion.He laid violent hands upon me. I believe he would have killed me if I had notmanaged to wrench myself free and make for the road. What we said I do not know,but I suppose our voices must have carried far, for I had only got a little downthe road, with my husband in hot pursuit behind me, when a man emerged from thecottage and caught me by the arm. At first I thought he was one of my husband'stools, but the first words that he said reassured me."

"'Do not be afraid,' he whispered. 'I was trespassing on the Count's propertyjust now, and I heard all that was said. That man is dangerous, and it isnecessary that I should protect you for the present. Come in here with me.'"

"He did not wait for me to consent. He fairly lifted me from the ground intothe blackness and seclusion of the cottage. It was all done in less time than ittakes to tell. A moment later I heard my husband go raging down the road, andthen I knew that my life was saved. Mind you, it was altogether too dark to seemy rescuer. It would have been imprudent to strike a light. I stayed for somelittle time until I regained my composure, after which I made up my mind toreturn home again. It would never do for people to think that a Descarti was acoward, and, besides, there were other considerations. I would go back homeagain and give my husband one more chance, especially as I had a friend in thehouse in the person of Luigi Silva, who had followed me on my marriage. At thesame time, I did not forget the dictates of prudence. It might be stillnecessary for me to seek an asylum, and my instinct told me that I could trustthe man by my side. On the spur of the moment I implored him to take care of myjewels for me. He demurred for a time on the score that he was a perfectstranger to me, then, finally, he consented, at the same time taking from hispocket a card, which he said contained his name and address. And thus thestrange interview ended, thus we parted, never to meet again till that fatalnight we came together in Fitzjohn Square. I know the story sounds incredible."

"Not to me," said Mrs. Delahay, sadly. "Nothing could be incredible to awoman who has gone through what I have. But go on. You went back home again,after entrusting your jewelry to a perfect stranger whose face you had neverseen."

"Indeed, I did. And we should never have known one another even if we hadmet. I went back to the villa, and afterwards we returned to our estate. But itwas not for long. A month or two later my husband was found dead in bed, and itwas proved beyond question that he had been poisoned. Then began a time forme--a time of terror and anxiety so great that I sometimes marvelled that Iretained my reason. For four years the torture lasted, and then, at length, Iwas free. I was in so strange and morbid a condition that the sight of a humanface was hateful to me. I wanted to go off and live on some distant island untilI recovered my nerve and strength again. I succeeded at length in finding theplace I needed, and for twelve or thirteen years I led a life of absoluteseclusion in a little cottage high up the Italian Alps. I had taken a certainamount of money with me, but I woke up to the fact one day that my means wereexhausted. You must know that I fled straight away, as soon as the last trialwas finished, and that all those years I never saw a single face that wasfamiliar to me. But by the end of that period I was quite myself again. I felt astrange longing to go into the world and see what life was like once more.Besides, there was my child to consider."

"Your child?" Mrs. Delahay cried. "This is the first time you have mentioneda child. Do you mean to say that you could part with your own flesh and blood inthat callous way?"

"Well, what of that? I fail to see that it makes any difference. Your husbandmight have been a passionate man, but, apart from that, everybody spokeexceedingly well of him. He was immensely popular. He was clever and generous.He had hosts of friends--I know that through an English nobleman, who wasgreatly attached to the Count. Everybody spoke well of him."

"Oh, I know, I know," the Countess said, with a bitter smile. "The catalogueof his virtues was trumpeted high enough at the trial, and I was no more than aninhuman wretch, not fit to live, certainly not fit to have a husband like CountBoris Flavio. But you shall hear my story presently. You shall hear what mywitness has to say. At any rate, I hated my husband with a deep and abidinghate, so that I could not bear to look upon the face of his child. You may saythat all this is unnatural and inhuman, but you little know what I had to put upwith. Still, twelve or fourteen years will heal most wounds, and when I cameback into the world I was possessed with a longing to see my daughter. I did notlike to go back to the old place again, so I sent to make inquiries. Imagine myfeelings when I heard that my daughter, Vera, had been kidnapped during the timeof the first trial, and that she had never been seen again. That is two yearsago now. I managed to communicate with Luigi Silva, and he was just asastonished and surprised as I was. Naturally, he thought that I had madearrangements with Vera, and that she was with me all the time. One of my reasonsfor coming to England was to try and find my child. My other reason was to seeMr. Louis Delahay and get my jewels back from him. This was quite imperative, asI am at my wits' end for money."

CHAPTER XX.

VALDO IN A NEW LIGHT.

"I didn't," the Countess confessed. "I looked for him all over the Continent.I should have written to him, only I had mislaid his card, which I found atlength after a long search. Seeing that the address was Fitzjohn Square, Ithought I would come and interview Mr. Delahay. It was quite late at night thatI found that he was staying at the Grand Hotel, and as things were very pressingindeed, I sent him an express letter asking for an interview early in themorning. In response I received a telegram saying that he would see me at once,and if I could manage to be at the corner of Fitzjohn Square at one o'clock inthe morning. I told you just now that things were very urgent, because I hadtaken this house furnished, and I had already had one or two unpleasantinterviews with the landlord, who naturally wanted his money. The telegramseemed to be reasonable enough. Artists are very late people, and, besides, itoccurred to me that Mr. Delahay had probably had those jewels in his house. Atany rate, I met him. You can imagine how astonished he was when he saw my face.Of course, he naturally concluded that I was your sister, but he seemed to thinkthat you had told him that I was dead. I suppose that was so."

"Certainly it was," Mrs. Delahay said. "I was definitely told that you weredead. And when I related our unhappy story to my husband, I always spoke of youas one who was no more."

"Yes; I quite see. Well, we went along very pleasantly together to the house,and it seemed to me that all I had to do was to get those jewels and come andcall upon you. Naturally, I had not heard of you for years. Indeed, I regardedyou as dead, much the same as you were under the impression that I no longerlived. But when we reached the studio, a light was burning there, and, lookingin, I saw a man painting, a handsome man whom your husband told me was LordRavenspur. You can imagine that neither of us wanted to be seen. There was nooccasion to raise any doubts in the intruder's mind, and so we waited till hewas gone. Then my case of jewels was handed over to me, and I came straight backhere. Not till late the next afternoon did I know what had happened."

"I am sorry to say there is not. But since you have been here certainsuspicions have begun to grow in my mind which fill me with dread. It would notbe fair to utter them yet, until I am more certain of my facts. Still, I am gladyou have come now, because I think you will be of assistance to me. You heard mespeak just now of Luigi Silva, but, of course, you will remember him perfectlywell?"

"I recollect him," Mrs. Delahay said. "A queer-tempered man, with strange andwayward moods, but he was sincerely attached to us. I should like to see himagain."

"Youshall see him," the Countess said. "And if you have half an hourto spare it shall be this very night. When I discovered that my daughter hadbeen stolen I got in touch with Silva, who, as I told you just now, was underthe impression that I had taken Vera away and placed her in safe custody, lestthe authorities should interfere and remove her from my influence. When he foundthat I had barely given Vera a thought all these years, he was furiously angrywith me. Indeed, his rage knew no bounds. He had always been so faithful; he hadalways worked so hard for me, that I was astounded. He refused to have any moreto do with me. He went off without leaving his address, and for some little timeI have been searching for him in vain. Quite by accident I found him the othernight. He seems to have turned his athletic powers to advantage, for he isperforming in London now as a kind of flying man. I have seen the performance,and it is exceedingly clever. But that isn't what I want to talk to you about. Iknow where Silva, or Valdo, as he now calls himself, is to be met with. Within afew moments I want you to come along and add your persuasion to mine."

"I will do anything you like," Mrs. Delahay said; "anything to get to thebottom of this singular mystery."

The Countess started up at once, and proceeded to don her hat and cloak. Thenshe led the way to the back of the house.

"There is a way out here," she said, "which leads into a lane. Now, comealong. We have not very far to go."

They turned out of the lane presently into a quiet, secluded thoroughfare,where the Countess stopped. They had not long to wait, for presently two figurescame down the road, talking earnestly together. The light was not good, but itwas quite sufficient to show Mrs. Delahay that one of the men was James Stevens.

"The witness, Stevens," she whispered. "He must not see us together. Thereare many reasons why it is inadvisable that he should learn the truth. The otherman looks like Silva; only it is difficult to be sure after all these years. Letme stand in this doorway till you have managed to get rid of Stevens."

The Countess nodded her approval, and Maria Delahay slipped into the shadowof the door. From where she stood it was quite possible to see what was goingon. She saw her sister approach the two men. She did not fail to note Stevensstart as he recognised, or thought he recognised, the woman who was known to himas Maria Delahay. On the still air she could catch a word or two.

"Very well," she heard Silva say sullenly. "I have one or two things to sayto my friend here, and then I'll come back to you."

The two men came past where the woman was standing in the doorway. They wereconversing in deep whispers, so that the listener could catch only a word ortwo, yet those words filled her with vague apprehension. She caught the name ofRavenspur as it came hissing from Silva's lips. Then there was something shecould not follow, and, finally, clearly enunciated the one word "tonight." Amoment later and Stevens was shuffling off down the street, while Silva returnedto Countess Flavio. As Mrs. Delahay joined them, the little Italian glanced fromone to the other.

There was something in the insolence of his manner that moved Mrs. Delahay toanger.

"I should hardly have known you," she said; "certainly I should not haveknown you from the tone in which you are addressing us. Have you quite forgottenwhat you owe to your late master's children?"

"I have forgotten nothing," Silva said. "Why do you come here persecuting melike this? Why cannot you let me alone? But for me your sister would have beenin a dishonoured grave by now. I saved her life. I saved the good name of thefamily. And how am I repaid? What does she care so long as she saves herself.And yet I remember her a sweet and innocent child, just as I remember her ownlittle one. Ah, I was fond of her, and she was fond of me. I could never havegone off and hidden myself, and left little Vera to the tender mercies of theworld. I, a man, no relation, couldn't have done that. But that her mother couldhave done such a thing--ah, it seems unnatural, unwomanly."

"I have found her," Silva whispered fiercely. "But whether I have found herfor you or not is quite another matter. I was your good friend once. I was yourdevoted slave and servant. I would have laid down my life for you both, and youknow it. But all that I felt for you was as nothing compared to my love for yourlittle one. And when you told me that you had left her without another thought,my blood fairly boiled with passion. I thought you had taken her with you. Ifondly imagined that you were devoting the rest of your life to her welfare andhappiness. And then, one day, you come coolly to me and ask me where you canfind your child. You go your own way, and leave me to go mine. I suppose youhave found out that I come this way home, and so have waylaid me. But you willnever get me to raise a finger on your behalf again. Still, it does not muchmatter. I know where the child is. I shall know how to act when the time comes.My vengeance is ready, when I care to stretch out my hand to take it."

The words poured from the speaker's lips in a torrent of passionatevehemence. He fairly quivered with rage. He seemed to be beside himself withanger. There was something almost akin to madness in his eyes.

"Oh, calm yourself," the Countess said. "My good Silva, I make everyallowance for your feelings, but you are going altogether too far. You, aboveall men, ought to know how I longed to get away from anything that reminded meof my husband. Don't forget that she was his child as well as mine, and that shehad her father's eyes and charm of expression. Besides, I was barely responsiblefor my actions then. Consider what I had had to go through. Consider my mentaltorture and degradation. And yet you say it was my duty day by day to watch mychild and see the hateful pleasantness of her father's smile looking at me frombehind her innocent features. Oh, I couldn't do it. I tried to persuade myselfthat it was my duty, but all to no avail. I was in such a state of nervousexhaustion then, so near the borderland of insanity, that I believe I shouldhave taken the life of the child if she had gone with me. And, naturally, Ithought that she was with friends. I knew that you would see that she was allright. And, in addition to all this, she was her father's heiress."

"But who was interested in taking her away?" Mrs. Delahay asked. "I don't seehow anybody could gain anything by saddling themselves with a child like that."

CHAPTER XXI.

TO BE IN TIME.

"It is plain enough to me," Silva growled; "but then I am acquainted with thefacts of which you two know nothing. With all his faults, Count Flavio waspassionately attached to his little girl. Through her he could see a means ofstabbing his wife to the heart, and he was never the man to hesitate where apiece of refined cruelty was concerned. He arranged that kidnapping himself."

"Have I not just told you so?" Silva went on. "You remember Count Flavio andhis brother twenty years ago? You recollect what a handsome man he was? No onewas more popular or sought after. No one was more pleasing and fascinating. Butbehind that fair exterior was the nature and disposition of a devil. Oh, I knewit before that unhappy marriage took place. And that was why I insisted uponaccompanying Signora Carlotta when she fled with the count. It was not longbefore she found him out. It was not long before he began to employ the pettytyrannies which poisoned her life and made existence almost unendurable. I havestood behind his chair when guests have been present. I have seen his cleversimulation of affection, whilst all the time he was saying things that woundsensitive women and drive them to despair. Many a time I have been tempted tothrust a knife between his shoulders. More than once I have had my hand upon ablade. But if I stayed here all night I could not sum up the catalogue of thatman's diabolical cruelties. And when at length he paid the penalty of his crime,I stood by my mistress, and saved her from a felon's grave. It was hard work,for everything was so cunningly laid that my mistress stood convicted from thevery first. Perhaps Count Boris reckoned upon an untimely end. At any rate, allhis servants, and the greater part of his tenantry, followed one another in thewitness-box and gave him the character of a saint, whilst his wife was paintedin the blackest colours. But for a little scheme of mine, she would have beenconvicted beyond the shadow of a doubt. Still, we are getting away from thepoint. I was going to prove to you how I knew that the Count had arranged forhis daughter to be kidnapped before his death. Some time previous to hismarriage one of his greatest friends was an English nobleman, called LordRavenspur. Quite by accident, a few months before the tragedy, I saw a letterwhich the Count had written to Lord Ravenspur imploring the latter to give him asecret interview at once. In that letter the most horrible charges were levelledagainst the Countess. But we need not go into those now. I managed to get holdof the reply to the letter, and I had no scruples in reading it. Mind you, I didnot think then that there was a plot on foot to kidnap the child, and I wasprevented from attending the interview owing to the cunning of the Count, andwithin a few weeks afterwards I had plenty of things to occupy my attention, sothat those letters were forgotten. And so things went on for years, until Iheard from the Countess again, and I found that she knew nothing of her child.Oh, I have made no secret of my feelings in that matter. I have spoken quitefreely tonight."

"From that time forward," he went on, "I have devoted myself almostexclusively to my search for the child. It did not occur to me tillcomparatively recently that Lord Ravenspur had had anything to do with it. Infact, that nobleman's name had quite gone out of my mind. I heard him spoken offrom time to time as a great artist. I am fond of pictures myself, and aboutthree years ago I went into a private view in Bond Street, and there I saw aface which attracted my attention. It was the head of a young girl preciselywhat little Vera would have been by that time. The more I studied thosefeatures, the more convinced was I that here was the object of my search. Andwhen I asked the name of the artist, I was told that it was none other than LordRavenspur.

"Then it came upon me like a flash that my search was at an end. Therecollection of those letters came to me; then I knew as plainly as possiblethat, at the instigation of the Count, Lord Ravenspur had taken the child away.Those two were in league together. But the one who still lives shall not escapehis punishment. I will see to that."

"But are you quite sure?" the countess asked eagerly. "Have you seen Vera?Does she live with Lord Ravenspur?

"That I don't quite know," Silva said. "I have hung about the house; I wasdetermined to find out things for myself without raising suspicions in the mindsof the servants. I gradually discovered what the household consisted of. On andoff for the last two years I have watched and waited, but I saw no sign ofanybody resembling the girl of whom I was in search. And gradually I began tothink that I had made a mistake. Business took me away to the North for somemonths, and when I came back again I put in a day or two more in Park Lane inthe faint hope that I might be rewarded at last. And I was. At length I saw her.And now you know where your daughter is to be found if you want to see heragain. I am perhaps wrong to tell you this----"

"Ah, it is easy to be wise after the event," Silva said. "She had been atschool on the Continent for the past three years, and that is why all my effortsended in failure. I did not mean to tell you this. I meant to have kept it tomyself as a punishment for your heartless conduct all these years. But I mustown that your arguments impressed me. I can see now how the child would havereminded you of her father. And that is why I have said so much. But, at thesame time, this thing has been an indignity to the family which I cannotoverlook. Lord Ravenspur will have to pay the price of his audacity. Blood isthicker than water----"

Silva appeared as if he would have said more. But he checked himself, and hiswords died away in low mutterings. In some respects it seemed to Mrs. Delahaythat the man was sane enough. In other matters she was convinced that he waslittle better than a dangerous lunatic. Were they on the eve of another dreadfultragedy, she asked herself, or was this man merely uttering vapouring threatswhen he spoke in this fashion of Lord Ravenspur?

A queer smile flickered about the corners of Silva's lips. His eyes wereglittering like stars.

"Oh, I will do nothing rash," he said significantly. "I have been brought upin the wrong school for that. When we South Italians take our vengeance, westrike and strike hard. But it is done in the dark, so that the right hand doesnot know what the left is doing. But we never forget, and we never forgive."

Silva turned on his heel, and walked slowly and thoughtfully away. TheCountess called for him to come back, but he took no heed. He might have beendeaf to the sound of her voice.

"It doesn't matter," she said; "at any rate, I shall know where to find himagain. But are you not coming back with me?"

"I think not," Mrs. Delahay said. "It is getting very late, and I must bereturning to my hotel. But, if you like, I will come and see you again, only itmust be stealthily and in the dark. You will quite see the advisability of ournot being much together till this cruel mystery has been cleared up."

They parted at the corner of the street, and Mrs. Delahay continued her wayslowly, always keeping the figure of Silva in sight. An impulse to follow himhad suddenly seized her, though she had said nothing of this to her sister. Sherecollected vividly enough now the words that had passed between Silva andStevens as to Lord Ravenspur, and the things that were going to happen tonight.For all she knew to the contrary, she might be the means of preventing anothertragedy. She felt almost sure of this presently as Silva turned into Park Lane,and pulled up before Lord Ravenspur's house.

The street was quite deserted, so that the man had no great need for caution.He stood there just a moment longer; then coolly entered the garden by way of aside gate. Apparently he had come prepared for this. He let himself into thegarden with a key. Very cautiously Maria Delahay followed. She noticed how darkthe garden was, the shadows being all the more dense by reason of the blaze oflight which came filtering through the glass dome of the studio. Though theglass was stained, and it was impossible to see through, the light inside wasstrong and steady.

Half hidden behind a bush the watcher waited developments. Presently sheheard Silva creep cautiously to the side of the studio. Then, a moment later, toher amazement, she saw that he was slowly climbing to the top of the dome, bymeans of one of the ribs in the roof. The man appeared to be as lithe and activeas a cat. The smallest foothold seemed to suffice him. He made his way to thetop of the dome, and Mrs. Delahay could see him peering in curiously. He stoodjust for a moment debating.

There was no time for further hesitation. It was very late now. Probably allthe household had gone to bed, and doubtless Lord Ravenspur was alone in thestudio. She knew something of his habits from her husband. Without a moment'shesitation she flew back into the road, and ran to the front door of the house.

She pressed the button of the bell. She could hear the ripple right throughthe house. It seemed to her as if no one was ever coming. Then presently therewas the sound of a footstep inside, and the door was flung open by Walter Lance.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE WORTH OF A NAME.

The great house in Park Lane was brilliantly lighted up, and passers-by askedthemselves what distinguished company Lord Ravenspur was entertaining tonight.Inside the house the master of it all was counting the moments till he should bealone. He was only giving an informal dinner, but the guests numbered upwards ofthirty all the same. And now they were disported all over the house. Ravenspursat in the great hall, with its mosaic floor and wonderful marble pillars. Itwas one of the show places of London, the envy of many whose means were greaterthan Ravenspur's. The veiled lights shone through palm and fern. The sultryevening seemed to be rendered cooler by the murmur of the fountains. It waspossible to sit there and see the fish darting hither and thither, so that theeffect of being somewhat far away in the seclusion of the woods was complete. Atall, fair woman, marvellously attired, was languidly singing the praises of theplace to her host.

"There is nothing like it," she said. "It is absolutely unique. We have triedthe same effect in America, but, somehow or another, it seems so artificial, sowanting in repose. You are the most fortunate of individuals, Lord Ravenspur."

"So my friends tell me," Ravenspur smiled. "But you must not always judge byappearances."

If his guest only knew, Ravenspur thought. If she could only guess what hisfeelings were at that moment. The beauty of the place had been a delight to himat one time. He had enjoyed the planning and building, but now he would havechanged it for the meanest cottage, if only he could approach to peace andcomfort thereby. The house seemed full of omens. Danger seemed to lurkeverywhere. No doubt those banks of palms behind the water gave a charmingeffect to the hall, but, then, an assassin might have hidden behind them, forthey afforded plenty of cover. The genial smile was still on Ravenspur's face.No one would have guessed the grey tenor of his thoughts. Even the pretty womanby his side had no idea how anxiously he was watching the clock in the gallery.

Meanwhile, the guests flitted from place to place, and Ravenspur could hearthe click of the balls in the billiard-room. Somebody was playing brilliantmusic in the drawing-room. Usually, Ravenspur's guests were loth to leave, andtonight was no exception to the rule; but presently they began to drift away,until, at length, Ravenspur was alone.

He heaved a deep sigh of relief. He rose and turned in the direction of thestudio. As he did so a slim, white figure came down the broad stairs, and VeraRayne stood before him. She was looking her very best tonight. There was anextra dash of colour in her cheeks, a sparkle in her eyes. The look thatRavenspur turned upon her was half affectionate and half sad.

"You did very well tonight," he said, "considering this is the first time youhave done me the honour to act as hostess to my guests. You played your partquite to the manner born, Vera. We shall have no occasion to call in theservices of Lady Ringmar any more. You will find yourself paragraphed in thepapers now."

Vera did not appear to be listening. Her beautiful face had a grave look uponit now. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke. There was no hurry abouther words, but Ravenspur could not fail to see that she was palpably nervous.

"It will not be for long, then," she said. "My dear guardian, can I have afew moments' conversation with you? It is not so very late, and one so seldomgets an opportunity."

"How grave you are," Ravenspur smiled. "We will go as far as the library, ifyou like, and then I can smoke a cigar and listen to your weighty utterances.Come along."

It was cosy enough in the library, and much more inviting of confidences thanthe stately splendour of the pillared hall. Ravenspur threw himself back in anarmchair and lighted a cigar. Then he signified to Vera to proceed. Her lipswere trembling now. Something bright and diamond-like twinkled under her lashes.

"Have I really, my dear? Nothing out of the common, I am sure. And what haveI done? Given you a good education and found you a comfortable home; and fromfirst to last you have never caused me a moment's anxiety. I have become as fondof you as if you were my own child. It will be a genuine grief to me when theright man comes along and takes you away from here."

"There is not much fear of that," Vera smiled wistfully. "Of course, you maythink me ungrateful. You may say that I am showing a great deal ofdissatisfaction----"

"I am afraid I am. You see, things cannot go on like this. I hate to have totalk in such a fashion, but the time has come when I must speak. All these yearsyou have been showering benefits upon me. You have been treating me as if I wereyour own flesh and blood. The money alone that I must have cost you is enormous;and, so far as I know, I have not a penny."

"Oh, please don't talk like that; it makes my task all the more difficult. Ihave realised for a long time now that I cannot stay here, a dependant on yourbounty. I can never feel sufficiently grateful for what you have done for me inthe past. I could not possibly put my feelings into words; but I have made up mymind that I must get my own living in the future. It is a very hard thing tosay, but I am going to leave you."

"Did anybody ever hear anything so foolish?" Ravenspur cried. "Why, this isyour home. Is it your fault that you are utterly incapable of getting your ownliving? When I brought you here--a child in arms--I gave your father a solemnassurance that you should be my own daughter in future. I have made provisionfor you in my will. Some day you will be rich, as things go. And now you talk ofleaving me in this cold-blooded fashion. Don't you see that I cannot do withoutyou? But let me try and touch that gratitude of which you spoke. Surely, afterwatching over you so carefully all these years, you are not going to leave me atthe very moment when you can make something like an adequate return? You arepractically mistress of the house now, and my welfare is entirely in your hands.Need I say any more after that?"

"Oh, you try me sorely," Vera cried; "and yet my path is quite plain. Even atthe risk of incurring your displeasure, I cannot remain here. And now I come tothe point. Before I go I want you to tell me who I am, and who my parents are."

"Yes; I think you have a right to know that," Ravenspur said thoughtfully;"but, if you don't mind, we will not go into that tonight. It is too late, andthe story is too long. Believe me, you will be the happier for asking noquestions. There is a dark tragedy behind your young life which is nowforgotten, and I am perfectly sure you would bitterly regret it if you stirredthe scandal up again. 'Let sleeping dogs lie,' Vera. Be content to know that youare of good family, and leave the rest alone."

The girl's face grew a shade paler. Her eyes had a suggestion of pain in themas she turned to the speaker.

"I think I understand," she murmured. "If my suspicions are correct, this isa great blow to me; but, having said so much, I think I must know the rest. Andnow, now you see how impossible it is that I can remain here much longer."

Ravenspur was silent for a moment. He had forgotten the little scene which hehad witnessed some time ago between Vera and Walter Lance. So that was why shewas going. She had given her heart to Walter, and only too late she haddiscovered that a marriage between them was out of the question.

The same subject was uppermost in Vera's mind. They were both looking at thesame thing from a different point of view; and it seemed to Vera that ifRavenspur's words meant anything, it meant that she was not even entitled to thename she bore. Every drop of blood appeared to have left her heart. She stoodthere, white and breathless. Yet, amidst all her storm of thoughts, one dominantidea possessed her. The time had come to strike now. There must be no furtherdelay. She must leave the house. She must go out into the world to get her ownliving. She would stay here no longer under these shameful conditions.

"You have spared my feelings," she began. "I almost wish now that I had notasked you any of these---"

Vera broke off abruptly as the door opened, and Walter Lance came into theroom. He looked uneasy and anxious. He started to say something to Ravenspur,then he paused, as he saw that Vera was standing there. In spite of the girl'sutter misery and dejection, she did not fail to see that she was in the way now.

"I am just going," she said. "I am going as far as the drawing-room. When youhave finished with your uncle I should like to have a few words with you,Walter."

"You had much better go to bed," Ravenspur said, with a sudden sterninflection in his voice. "It is getting late, and I am sure that you must betired, Vera."

The girl made no reply. She walked through the door on the far side of thelibrary and made her way into the drawing-room. Uncle and nephew stood therefacing one another; they could hear the sound of Vera's piano softly played.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE NEXT MOVE.

"Well, and what is it now?" Ravenspur asked. "You look as if you had seen aghost. Is there anything new in this ghastly business? Have the police solvedthe problem?"

"On the contrary, the problem gets more bewildering every hour," Walter said."As you know, I was going to talk over our side of the puzzle with InspectorDallas, and he gave me some startling information. As soon as ever I mentionedthe Flavio business he told me that he had made a discovery which connected itclosely with the death of poor Louis Delahay. It appears that there is inEngland at the present moment an Italian detective, called Berti, who had theFlavio affair in hand."

"It appears that Berti has seen Mrs. Delahay since the inquest. He was ratherinterested in the affair, and he contrived to get a sight of Mrs. Delahay. Andnow comes the most extraordinary feature of the story. Berti is absolutelycertain that Mrs. Delahay is no other than Carlotta, Countess Flavio."

"He is prepared to swear to his statement, any way," Walter said. "And, afterall, I don't see why it should be impossible. In fact it is not in the leastimpossible, and I'll tell you why. After this amazing thing came out I thoughtit my duty to go back to the hotel and see Mrs. Delahay. I told her what Bertisaid, and taxed her with being a principal in the Flavio tragedy."

"She did. She told me quite calmly that she had never heard of the Flavioaffair. I confess her words staggered me, because they were so calm andself-possessed. I watched her narrowly when I was speaking, and she never somuch as changed colour. Even when I told her the story she appeared to be asmystified and puzzled as ever. She said, as she has always said, that for thebest part of her life she has been more or less a recluse, and altogether out oftouch with the world's happenings. You see, Berti was so confident, and Mrs.Delahay so self-possessed, that I was utterly puzzled."

"There is nothing to be puzzled about," Ravenspur said. "The Italiandetective has made a mistake. His recollections of Carlotta Flavio's featuresafter eighteen years have become blurred. For goodness sake, don't let us harpupon this absurdity. Surely, there are enough complications without this!"

"So I thought at first," Walter said. "But you will recollect telling me thestory of your friend Count Flavio and his unhappy marriage. There were twoDescartis--Carlotta, who married your friend, and Maria, who disappeared and wasnot heard of for years. Now isn't it rather significant, bearing in mind whatBerti says, that Mrs. Delahay's name should be Maria?"

"Well, yes," he exclaimed. "But I see you have more to tell me. Will youplease go on?"

"I am coming to the interesting part now," Walter said. "Though I wasprepared to believe that Mrs. Delahay knew nothing of the Flavio affair, I wasby no means satisfied. I felt that there must be something in the Italian'sstory. I was certain of it when Mrs. Delahay admitted that her maiden name wasDescarti. Oh, please let me finish. It was Mrs. Delahay's sister Carlotta whowas the wife of your friend the Count. Hence the very natural mistake made byBerti. He had not seen the Countess, but her sister. The strong likeness betweenthem would account for the misunderstanding."

"And this is really a fact?" Ravenspur cried. "Strange that it should nothave come out before."

"But why should it, my dear uncle? You say that you never saw Count Flavio'swife. You have not the slightest idea what she was like. All you know is thatshe was an exceedingly bad woman, and that you rescued her child from aquestionable future. On the other hand, Maria Delahay is secluded from the worldfor eighteen years. She is told by her parents that her sister is dead. Sheknows nothing of the terrible Flavio scandal. This is a fact, because she toldme so herself. Indeed, we had it all out. She has to come back to the worldagain when her parents die. She is compelled to get her own living. It is onlynatural that she should change her name, and there you are."

"You saw a great deal more of the Delahays than I did," he said. "PracticallyI have not seen them together at all. Now how do they strike you? I mean, beforetheir marriage, did you think that the woman really cared anything for our poorfriend?"

"I am sure she did," Walter said emphatically. "Of course, there was nopassionate attachment between them; they were too old for that. But I am quitecertain that Maria Delahay's affection was sincere enough. After what I haveseen the last day or two, I decline to believe that she had anything to do withher husband's death. I believed her when she said she never saw him from thetime she left the hotel till she found him dead in the studio."

"And that opens up another theory," Ravenspur exclaimed. "If it wasn't MariaDelahay the witness Stevens saw that night in Fitzjohn Square, then it must havebeen her sister Carlotta."

"My word, that never occurred to me!" Walter cried. "And yet the solution isas simple as it is probable. I wonder if it is possible to obtain a photographof the Countess?"

"There were plenty of them published at the time of the trial," Ravenspursaid. "Of course, I mean in the illustrated papers. I have got the whole of themsomewhere upstairs. Not that I pay much attention to newspaper photographs, asthey are rarely any use. I'll go and see if I can find one."

Ravenspur turned hurriedly and left the room. He was gone some considerabletime, leaving Walter to stand there and ponder over the result of his night'sadventure. The more he thought the matter over, the more complicated it became.He put the thing away from him almost petulantly. He was suddenly conscious ofthe fact that the music in the drawing-room was very soft and soothing. Then itflashed across him that Vera had something to say. Ravenspur might be a littletime longer, and there was no opportunity like the present.

Only a portion of the drawing-room lights were on, together with the pianocandles, and Vera sat there half in the shadow, a pathetic looking figureenough, in her white dress. As Walter approached he could see that her face wasvery pale, and that her eyes showed signs of recent tears.

"It is not altogether a fresh trouble," she murmured; "it is only the old onebecome more acute. Do you remember my telling you the other day that I felt howimpossible it is for me to remain here any longer? But I must go away."

"My dearest girl, why?" Walter asked. "You know perfectly well how much Icare for you. You know perfectly well that you could not look me in the face anddeclare that you do not love me as well as I love you. Now, could you?"

"That is what makes it all the harder," Vera whispered. "Oh, I am not goingto prevaricate about it. We have always been good friends, Walter, and in thelast few months I have realised that friendship has given way to a more tenderattachment. Perhaps it was that which opened my eyes. Perhaps it was that thatmade me ask myself some questions. I felt quite sure that Lord Ravenspur hadguessed nothing of our secret. In fact, it was a secret to me till one afternoonin this very room. . . ."

"Well, then, you see I began to think. No father could have been kinder to methan Lord Ravenspur. I owe him a debt that I can never repay. But, though he hastaken me into his house, and brought me up as if I belonged to his own flesh andblood, it does not follow that he considers me good enough for his nephew, thefuture holder of the title. And when he did find out not long ago, I saw at oncewhat a dreadful disappointment it was to him."

"I am afraid it was," Walter said grudgingly. "But he did not set his faceagainst it when I placed the thing before him in a proper light. He merelystipulated that our engagement must be a secret between us for the present. I amsure he is much too just a man, much too kind-hearted to spoil our happiness.You are too sensitive, Vera; your sense of honour is too high."

"Perhaps I am," she whispered. "But there is another thing which I havelearned tonight, a thing which prevents me from remaining here an hour longerthan is necessary. It is the question of my birth. I learned that tonight forthe first time. Oh, do not humiliate me any further. Do not force me to speakany more plainly. If you knew the shameful story of my parents you would realiseat once how unfitted I am to become----"

The girl said no more. She covered her face with her hands, and burst intotears. As to Walter, he was too astonished to speak. In the tense silence thatfollowed the hall bell rang violently again and again. Vera looked up swiftly.

"You had better go yourself," she said. "It may be important." (She wasdeeply grateful for the interruption.) "Go yourself; everybody else is in bed."

CHAPTER XXIV.

A BLOOD RELATION.

Walter choked down an ugly word that rose to his lips. He resented theintrusion just at a moment when he particularly desired to be alone with Vera.Who was it, he wondered, who came so late? And who rang so imperiously andpersistently for admission? He flung back bolt and chain, and opened the door.With her nerves all unstrung, and with a certain intuition of impending calamityupon her, Vera had followed him into the hall. She had dried her eyes now; sheshowed little sign of her recent agitation. She heard Walter's exclamation as herecognised the intruder.

"Good heavens, it is Mrs. Delahay!" he cried. "What can you want here at thishour?"

"The studio," Mrs. Delahay gasped. "Get to the studio at once. If your uncleshould happen to be there----"

"You can reassure yourself on that point," Walter said. "Lord Ravenspur is atpresent in his bedroom."

Maria Delahay pressed her hand to her heart. She gave a little gasp ofrelief. She was too breathless to explain. All she needed now was a chair tosupport her failing limbs. As Walter stood there it flashed upon him thatsomething wrong must be taking place in connection with the studio. He had notforgotten the vivid incident of the other night. Perhaps at this very moment theclue to the puzzle was in his hands. He turned round, and his gaze fell uponVera, who was watching Mrs. Delahay curiously.

"Take this lady into the drawing-room," he said, "and wait till I come back.I shan't be very long."

Vera came forward with a sympathetic smile upon her face. A light was shiningon her features. Maria Delahay could see how fair and sweet she was. And sothis, she thought, was her sister's child. This was the girl from whom hermother had voluntarily separated herself for upwards of eighteen years. Itseemed impossible, incredible to believe, but there it was. And the girl's handwas under Mrs. Delahay's arm now. She was being gently assisted as far as thedrawing-room.

"I am sure you are Mrs. Delahay," Vera said, in her most sympathetic voice."If all had gone well we should have met before now. I cannot tell you how sorryI am for you. I do hope this dreadful mystery will be cleared up before long.And now can I get you anything? I suppose you came to see Lord Ravenspur?"

Maria Delahay hesitated for a moment. There was no occasion to tell thisbeautiful child the dread import of her presence there. It seemed a wicked thingto bring her within the range of the trouble.

"I should like to see Lord Ravenspur, yes," she said "So you are his ward,Vera Rayne? Really, I cannot see any likeness between you and your father."

The words had slipped unconsciously from Maria Delahay's lips before she hadtime to think what she was saying. It was only when she noted the startled lookin Vera's eyes that she realised the full extent of her imprudent speech.

"What am I saying!" Mrs. Delahay exclaimed. "My head is so dazed and confusedthat I don't know what I am talking about. Just for a moment I was filled with afoolish idea that you were Lord Ravenspur's daughter. It would be strange if youbore a likeness to him, seeing that he is only your guardian."

Vera was silent for a moment. Mrs. Delahay's impetuous speech had filled herwith misgivings. She did not know, she could not feel sure that, after all, LordRavenspur might stand in closer relationship to her than that of a guardian. Butshe put the trouble out of her mind now. She had other things to occupy herattention. And after all said and done, the poor creature by her side was indeeper grief and anxiety than herself.

"I think I will go up and tell my guardian you are here," she said. "I knowhe will be glad to see you."

Vera was spared the trouble, for at that moment Ravenspur came into the roomwith a bundle of papers in his hand. He started as he caught sight of Mrs.Delahay.

"No; there is nothing particularly wrong," the woman said. "I should like afew words with you if I am not intruding."

Vera discreetly left the room, and walked off towards the library. There wasa stern expression on Ravenspur's face as he looked at his visitor. He waitedfor her to speak.

"I daresay you will think this is rather singular of me," she faltered, "butI came here tonight because your life is in danger. I believe that the mancalled Luigi Silva is under your roof at the present moment. You know who Imean?"

"I know perfectly well," Ravenspur replied. "It would be absurd to pretend tomisunderstand you. And so it turns out after all that you are the sister of mypoor friend Flavio's wife. Did Delahay know your identity before he marriedyou?"

"He knew all there was that was worth knowing," the woman said, a littledefiantly. "He knew the story of my miserable youth, for instance. I don't wantyou to misunderstand me. I don't wish to pretend that I had any ardent passionfor my husband. But my affection was deep and sincere, and my loss is almostmore than I can bear. Oh, I know what you are going to say. You are going to askwhat I know about that wretched Flavio affair. I repeat in all sincerity that Iknew nothing till the other day. I did not even know that my sister was alive,not until I visited her tonight at her house in Isleworth Road. I was not awarethat she had married Boris Flavio. I did not know that she had a child----"

"Yes; I knownow," was the significant reply. "I have just beentalking to her. What a beautiful girl she is! How sweet and natural! How openand candid is her face! It seems almost incredible to me that my sister couldhave forgotten her child all these years. I could not have done so."

"No; nor any other woman worthy of the name," Ravenspur said grimly. "Butthough you lived with your sister till early womanhood, you had no realconception of her character. I never met her myself, for which I am devoutlythankful. But I learnt enough, and more than enough, of her character fromFlavio's letters to me. If ever a man was cursed with a fiend incarnate in theshape of a wife, Flavio was that man. Oh, I don't wish to give you pain, for youhave suffered enough of late. But I know what I am talking about. The mere factthat you alluded to just now is proof positive that your sister is incapable ofaffection for her child. More or less by accident you have made this discoverytonight. By sheer chance you know that your sister's daughter is under my roof.For a long time past I have known that some agency has been at work to depriveme of the girl, an agency so utterly unscrupulous that my very life is indanger. I suppose that man is acting for your sister, who has a sudden whim togain possession of her child once more. And now I am going to ask you a favour.You are to say nothing of what you have found out tonight. I have told you whatyour sister is, and no doubt my words will prove true before long. I am going toask you to give me a solemn promise that----"

"It is too late," Mrs. Delahay exclaimed. "Whatever my sister may be is allbeside the point. She knows where her daughter is, and Luigi Silva knows also.He told us everything not long ago. I found out by accident that he was cominghere. I saw him enter the house a few moments ago. I believe he is in yourstudio at the present moment. That is why I rang the bell so furiously; that iswhy I prayed I should not be too late."

"Oh, this is intolerable," he cried. "One could hardly believe it possiblethat this is London in the twentieth century. I had thought that those insanevendettas had died out before this, even in Corsica. I must go at once andsee----"

As the speaker turned away Maria Delahay held out a detaining hand. Her facewas pale and pleading.

"Your life is too valuable to be risked in that headstrong fashion," shesaid. "Besides, I have already warned your nephew, who appears to knoweverything. He went off to the studio at once. I have no doubt that he hasscared Silva away by this time. But why don't you put this matter in the handsof the police? Why run this risk when a few words would prevent any danger? Andthere need be no scandal. Silva could be warned. He would have to leave thecountry, and then there would be an end----"

"And this from you who are a half Corsican yourself," Ravenspur saidreproachfully. "I could free myself from Silva, no doubt, but before many monthshad passed another man would take his place and my danger would be greater thanever. You see I have the advantage of knowing my present assailant. To quote theold saying. 'Better a devil you know than a devil you don't know.'"

Maria Delahay had nothing to say in reply. She was turning the matter rapidlyover in her mind. It seemed to her that she could see a way out of thedifficulty.

The words were never finished, for suddenly the tense silence of the housewas broken by a quick cry and the tinkling sound of broken glass. Then, in thedistance somewhere, a door banged sullenly, and silence fell over the house oncemore.

CHAPTER XXV.

BRED IN THE BONE.

Meanwhile, Walter Lance had lost no time in reaching the studio. It did notneed any elaborate explanation on the part of Maria Delahay for him to knowthat, in some way, the danger came from the man whom he knew as Valdo. Walterdid not doubt that this was not the first time that the Corsican had visited thestudio, though, as yet, he was utterly unable to grasp how it was that theattempt had been so successful.

There was danger here, and Walter knew it perfectly well, but he was toofilled with indignation to think of anything else. So far as he could see,nothing had as yet taken place. The studio was absolutely empty, and the fullblaze of the electric lights disclosed no danger.

Watching eyes were probably not far off, and it behooved Walter to becircumspect. He whistled an air. He strolled from place to place, ever and againglancing upwards to the roof. He felt quite convinced that it was the roof fromwhich danger threatened, but there was nothing to be seen, no sign of movementin the branches of the acacia.

Still, the miscreant must be near at hand. He might even be watching thesolitary occupant of the studio at that moment. Walter made up his mind what todo. He switched off all the lights and shut the door of the studio, at the sametime affecting to turn the key in the lock. If Valdo were hiding close at hand,he would take this for an indication that the studio was locked and closed forthe night.

This being done, Walter crept back again and took up a position at the footof an acacia. If Valdo entered the studio at all he was bound to come that way.Doubtless he had made his way over the roof, and presently it would be an easymatter to flutter from the dome on to the top of the acacia. Such a plan as thiswould present no difficulties to the flying man. Therefore, Walter bracedhimself for the effort which would be required of him presently.

He had not much doubt as to the issue. From the point of physical strength hewas a match and more than a match for the Italian. There was just the chancethat the latter might make use of his knife, but that had to be risked. Aquarter of an hour passed slowly, and Walter was beginning to get impatient.What he most feared now was that Lord Ravenspur might return and demand to knowwhy the studio was in darkness. This would probably have the effect of scaringValdo away, and Walter would have all his trouble for his pains.

The minutes passed along, and no one came; but at length Walter's patiencewas rewarded. He heard a slight swish and sway in the branches of the acaciaoverhead. He could hear deep and regular breathing coming nearer and nearer tohim. Then, presently, in the darkness, he discerned the lithe figure of theItalian. A moment later, and the intruder was caught below the elbows in a gripthat made him fairly grunt again. He struggled just for a moment, but the steadygrip seemed to crush the life out of him, and he desisted. Walter bore him backuntil his left hand shot out, and the whole studio was bathed in flame oncemore. Before Valdo could realise what had really happened, Walter's hands wereall over him in a search for weapons. Nothing more dangerous come to light thana small sheath-knife, which Walter swept into his pocket. He was quite calm andself-possessed now. He coolly indicated a chair, into which Valdo flung himselfsullenly.

"Now I should like to have a little conversation with you," he said. "Youwill recollect that we have met before."

"I have not forgotten the fact," Luigi Silva said sullenly. "It was at theImperial Palace Theatre."

"Quite correct," Walter said. "I came to see that remarkable performance ofyours. I was very much interested, and I must congratulate you warmly. At thesame time, it seems to me that yours is a dangerous kind of entertainment."

A contemptuous smile flickered over Silva's face. "There is no dangerwhatever," he murmured; "anybody could do it if they had arms like mine."

"I am afraid you don't quite take my meaning," Walter murmured. "There aresome cigarettes by your elbow. You had better help yourself, especially as I amlikely to detain you some time."

With a defiant air the Italian took and lighted a cigarette. He did notappear in the least unnerved, though the furtive glances which he occasionallyturned in the direction of his captor showed that his mind was not altogether atease. He would have given much to know what Lance was driving at. He did notlike to see the other quite so sure of his ground.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, your time is mine. But I dare say you will wonder whyI am detaining you like this. To tell you the truth, since your last visithere----"

"Why play with me?" Walter asked contemptuously. "It is some days since youwere here last. To refresh your memory, I am alluding to the night when you camehere by way of the ventilator in the dome, and made a murderous attack upon myuncle, who owes his life to the fact that I was not very far away. It is no useyour denying this, because I am in a position to prove it. I dare say youcongratulated yourself upon the fact that you got clear away. You would chuckleto think how mystified we all were. Here is a murderous onslaught made upon apublic man in his own studio, from which there is no exit but the door; and onthe night of the strange affair the door was locked. No one but a bird couldhave escaped through the ventilator. You can picture to yourself what asensation the business would have caused if the police had been called in andthe affair made known to the Press. Now I dare say you wonder why the policewere not called in at once?"

"Well, I am going to be more polite than you are," Walter said; "and I amgoing to tell you. I had a fancy to play the detective myself. I looked aroundfor some sort of a clue, and at length I found one. Ah, I see you areinterested."

"Well, that is the same thing. On the floor close by where you are seated Ifound a shabby yellow playbill, advertising the performance of Valdo, the flyingman, at the Imperial Palace Theatre. The bill was neatly folded, and was ofrecent date. Now I know perfectly well that neither Lord Ravenspur nor any ofhis friends would be interested in that kind of thing. Therefore, how did thebill get here? Probably left by the flying man himself, and a flying man wouldbe the only kind of human being capable of getting in and out of this studio inthat mysterious fashion. Upon this, I made up my mind to come and see you, and Idid. I have only to place this information, together with my testimony, in thehands of the police. Indeed, I have only to send for a constable now and giveyou into custody. After that you would not be likely to give us any cause foranxiety the next seven years."

The Italian's eyes gleamed as he glanced restlessly about him. There was noreason for Walter to ask himself if his prisoner understood. Silva shrugged hisshoulders.

"Oh, we'll come to that presently. In the meantime, I want a littleinformation. You will remember when we were talking to you in the manager's roomat the Imperial, a lady came in and addressed a few words to you. She was onlythere for a moment, but she stayed quite long enough for me to recognise herfeatures. I want to know what Mrs. Delahay needed to see you for."

"You are very clever," he sneered. "Oh, so clever. So you are interested inMrs. Delahay? You think, perhaps, that I know a deal about the murder of herhusband. I know less about it than you do, and I have no concern with her atall. You had better ask her. She will probably be astonished----"

"Ah, I see what you mean," Walter exclaimed. "It was stupid of me not tograsp the problem sooner. Of course, it was not Mrs. Delahay at all I saw withyou, but her sister, Countess Flavio."

"Thank you very much," Walter said. "You could not tell me any more if youwere ever so candid. And now I know exactly what brings you here. It is notrobbery----"

"Robbery!" Silva broke out vehemently. "Sir, your words are a deadly insult.I am an honest man, though I may only be a servant; I would scorn to touch whatdoes not belong to me."

"In that case you came here for violence, then," Walter said. "Yours must bea strangely illogical mind. You would not soil your hands with another man'smoney, but you would not hesitate to stab him in the back under cover of thedarkness. Come, don't let us argue any longer. You came here the other night tomurder my uncle. But for a fortunate chance, Lord Ravenspur would be in hisgrave now. It is useless to deny it."

"Have I made any attempt to deny it?" Silva said, in a voice that was utterlydevoid of passion. "Have I lied to you in any way? Oh, I see there is no mercyin your face, and doubtless if our positions were reversed, I should act as youare acting tonight. You are going to hand me over to the authorities. I shall beno worse treated if I tell the truth. I did come here to take Lord Ravenspur'slife. I am only sorry that I failed."

CHAPTER XXVI.

A FAITHFUL SERVANT.

The words were uttered with a grim coldness that caused Walter to shiver.This was worse than any outbreak of fury, worse than homicidal mania in its mostacute form. The man was sane enough beyond all doubt, but, at the same time, hewas a fanatic, prepared to gratify his vengeance, even if his own life paid thepenalty.

"Well, that is candid, at any rate," Walter said. "You came here prepared totake my uncle's life. It was the second attempt that you made upon it. Oh, youknow what I mean. You mistook a guest who was coming here for Lord Ravenspur."

"That was a mistake," Silva said coolly. "It was a mistake that I realisedjust in time. I should have greatly regretted any harm happening to an innocentparty."

"I suppose it would have quite upset you," Walter said sarcastically. "But weare wandering from the point. What is the grudge you have against my uncle? Youhave never even seen him till quite lately. He has been an utter stranger toyou."

"I don't suppose I shall be able to make you understand," he said. "Your raceis different to mine. The blood in your veins flows much slower and colder. Youhave no traditions in this country which are part of your religion. You cannotcomprehend that it is one's duty to avenge insult and outrage, even at the costof a life. In my part of the world a man would be held a coward who hesitated toretrieve his honour in such a fashion. But in this case it was not my honour,but the honour of the noble house to which I belonged. It would have been badenough if the thing had been done by one of my own countrymen, but a stranger,like Lord Ravenspur----"

"Ah, that is because you cannot understand. Look you here, signor. I have amistress to whom I am devotedly attached. I would lay down my life for her. Iwould do anything to shield her from pain. Let us say that my mistress ismarried to a man who outwardly possesses all the graces that Nature can bestow.He has the intellectual gifts, too. He is widely beloved and popular wherever hegoes. But at heart he is a fiend. The refined cruelties which he uses towardshis wife arouse revengeful feelings in my breast, though I dare not gratifythem, in case I perish, and leave my beloved mistress in a worse case than ever.But there are others of my clan also serving the noble house from which mymistress came, and they write the Countthe letter. You don't know whatthat means, and I am not going to tell you. But it is the death-warrant, and theCount knows it. He cannot appeal against that. All the forces of the Crowncannot save his life. And then, mysteriously, he dies. But he does not diebefore he has done one last piece of irreparable mischief. He sees a way tostrike his wife to the heart from the other side of the grave. There is a child,perhaps the only thing on earth that the Count loves purely and sincerely. Hegets his friend, Lord Ravenspur, to kidnap that child. I tell you if hislordship had come amongst us and dishonoured the threshold of the greatest chiefin South Italy he could not have unlocked the floodgates of vengeance in a morethorough manner. Think of the degradation, the bitter insult of it all! If thetrue facts of the case had been known to me at the time, Lord Ravenspur wouldhave been a dead man years ago. But when my mistress vanished from the world, Inaturally thought that she had taken the child with her. I did not know untilquite recently what had happened. Then when I cast my mind back to the past Ihad no difficulty in fixing upon Lord Ravenspur as the culprit. The rest youknow."

The words were quietly and evenly spoken, but the deep ring of sincerity inthem was not lost upon Walter Lance. Here was a man who saw his way clearlybefore him, a man blinded by prejudice and bigotry, who would not hesitate for asingle moment, who would laugh contemptuously at the mere suggestion of personaldanger.

"Why go into that?" he said. "The honour of the house would be avenged. Ishould have done my duty, and have earned the approbation of my friends. Therewould be a great outcry, no doubt. The thing would be inquired into, andprobably the child I speak of would have been restored to her mother, though, tobe sure, I am not quite certain whether the Countess is a proper person----"

"So you have your doubts on that score?" Walter cried eagerly. "Now is it nota fact that the Countess Flavio was notoriously a woman of evil disposition?"

"Everybody said so," Silva replied. "Had I chosen, I might have thrown adifferent light upon it. Mind you, I am not pleased with my late mistress; butthere were excuses plausible enough. I cannot forget that it was a horriblething for a mother to go off and leave her only child all those years. Still,that is no matter. If the time ever came, I could show the world something whichwould open their eyes as to the doings in his lifetime of Count Flavio. He kepta diary. After his death I found that diary."

"To what good, signor? Popular prejudice was so strong against us that,beyond doubt, the prosecution would have proved that diary to be a forgery. ThenI should have been cast into prison, and my mistress would have been deprived ofthe one protector whom she so sorely needed. Why, feeling ran so high at thetime of the trial that it was dangerous for me to walk the streets alone atnight. But why discuss this now? Why continue this unnecessary conversation? Youhave made up your mind what to do. You have only to ring the bell, and there isan end of me----"

Silva paused and shrugged his shoulders significantly. He rose as if to takeanother cigarette. The box slipped from his hand, and some of the little whitetubes rolled across the polished floor. With an apology for his clumsiness, hestooped to pick them up. Then he rose again, his right hand shot out in thedirection of a figure in armour, grasping a huge battle-axe in its hand. Withthe swiftness of an animal, the battle-axe was snatched away, and before Waltercould realise what had happened, the Italian had smashed a couple of the heavyplate-glass sheets, thus clearing a way into the garden. Walter yelled at thetop of his voice and darted forward, but he was too late. He realised the follyof a search in the darkness. No doubt, by this time the man was far away. Heopened the studio door, which closed suddenly behind him, owing to a draughtwhich came streaming through the broken panes. He saw Lord Ravenspur standingbefore him in the corridor, with a white face and agitated manner.

"I'll tell you presently," Walter said. "Only you must get the women-kindaway first. It is quite imperative that Vera should know nothing, though itdoesn't in the least matter in Mrs. Delahay's case. She knows all about it."

Mrs. Delahay, followed by Vera, was in the corridor by this time. The girl'sface was pale. There was an inquiring look in her eyes.

"It is really nothing," Walter said. "Just a little accident on the polishedfloor of the studio. One of the servants will have to sleep in there tonight incase of intruders. It is a great pity we haven't got one of the dogs fromuncle's place in Hampshire."

"It is terribly late," Mrs. Delahay exclaimed, with a significant glance inWalter's direction. "Really, I ought to be back at my hotel long ago. I supposeI can find a cab?"

"I will go and find one for you," Walter said. "Hadn't you better go to bed,Vera? Don't forget that you are likely to be up very late tomorrow night."

Walter saw her into a cab, after which he returned to the house. He wasrelieved to find that Vera had already retired. Lord Ravenspur was walkingmoodily up and down the library.

"One of the grooms is going to sleep in the studio," he said. "We can get thedamage repaired tomorrow. And now tell me everything. I am certain that you havesomething unpleasant to disclose."

Walter told his story at some length. Lord Ravenspur followed with every signof interest.

"Oh, I can quite understand that man's point of view," he said. "You see, Iknow something about those people. When I was quite a young man I spent a yearor two in Corsica, and, to a certain extent, I sympathise with them. I havecommitted an outrage on the national honour, and I am to pay the penalty with mylife. The thing is recognised out there. It is regarded as quite commonplace."

"Well, perhaps there is one," Ravenspur said thoughtfully. "You see, the headof the family can interfere. Vera's mother is in a position to say---- But whatam I talking about? My dear boy, my life is in danger, and I am afraid that evenif we lay Silva by the heels there will be others. But, come what may, I amgoing to ask for no clemency. Come what may, Vera shall never pass into thecustody of that vile woman whom she has the misfortune to call her mother.Nothing shall induce me to change my mind. Indeed, such a thing would be aviolation of my promise to the dead."

"Your sentiments do you honour," Walter said; "but, unhappily, I don't seehow you can carry them out."

CHAPTER XXVII.

FLIGHT!

It was a long time before Lord Ravenspur replied. He paced up and down thestudio immersed in his own gloomy thoughts. Then gradually his face cleared, hiseyes flashed with resolution.

"I begin to see my way," he said. "It is not for my sake, but that of thechild. I hope you will believe me when I say I am no coward. If it were sixmonths hence I could laugh at the danger, because, whatever happened to me, Ishould have succeeded in my purpose. In six months' time Vera will be of age. Atthe expiration of that period she can become a naturalized British subject. Thenthe Crown will look after her interests, and see that the estates which she willsome day inherit are properly administered. Six months hence Vera will be herown mistress. She has already been informed what her mother is like, and shewill know how to behave towards that woman. It will be a satisfaction for me toknow that we have baffled those bloodthirsty wretches after all."

"And in the meantime?" Walter asked. "Don't you think we should have Silvaarrested, so that at any rate we should be safe as far as he is concerned? Wecould easily find him."

"I don't think so," Ravenspur said, thoughtfully. "I know my enemy by sight,which you will admit is a very great advantage. If another assassin comes along,he will have a tremendous pull over me. Besides, you made a suggestion just nowwhich gave me a brilliant idea. You said that it was a pity we hadn't got thedogs here. We will have a couple of bloodhounds up the first thing in themorning, and one of them shall sleep in my bedroom, the other in the studio. Thehounds are not in the least dangerous to those who know them. But I pity themidnight intruder who comes along and gets introduced to one of them. That willbe one way of protecting myself for a time, and it will give the scoundrelssomething to do to devise fresh means of putting an end to me. I have thought itall out, and the best thing we can do is to disappear."

"I mean exactly what I say. The thing can be done tomorrow night. There isnothing easier."

"But tomorrow night we are going to Lady Ringmar's great reception," Walterurged. "I understand that it is to be one of the biggest things of the season,and I know that Vera is looking forward to it with the greatest possiblepleasure."

"Well, we can go," Ravenspur said, a trifle impatiently. "Now my scheme isthis: we go to Lady Ringmar's, and stay there till about two o'clock in themorning. We take certain wraps with us, and we leave the house, not in one ofthe carriages, but in a hired fly which will subsequently take us to WaterlooStation. By special train we will go down to Weymouth, and at that point hire ayacht to convey us to Jersey. There we shall be able to stay a few days, andsettle our plans. The servants can easily get all we want together earlytomorrow morning, and send the bags down to Weymouth as luggage in advance. Thenext day the papers will contain the information that Lord Ravenspur hassuddenly been attacked with a mysterious illness, and that he has been orderedto leave London at once. As perfect rest and quietness are prescribed, he iskeeping his address a secret, and has given strict orders that no communicationof any kind is to be forwarded. Even the servants in Park Lane will profess notto know where we have gone, which will be nothing less than the truth. How doesthe idea strike you?"

Walter murmured something in reply. As a matter of fact, he was not in theleast in love with the scheme, though Lord Ravenspur appeared to be so eager andhappy about it, that he had not the heart to throw cold water on the programme.From his more youthful point of view, the idea of flight seemed cowardly. Hewould have placed the matter in the hands of the police. He would not haveshrunk from the utmost publicity. But still, there was Vera to be considered.The girl's future was of the first importance.

"Very well," he said, "I will give up my time tomorrow to getting ready. Isuppose now that you won't want me to telegraph to the Hampshire place for thedogs?"

"Oh, I think you had better," Ravenspur said. "One never knows what may turnup. And there is always the chance of the secret being discovered. And now letus go to bed, and try to get some sleep. I haven't had a night's rest for aweek. I am longing to find myself on board a yacht again. I shall be safe thereat all events. Good-night, my boy."

It was after lunch the following day that Vera came into the billiard-room insearch of Walter. The latter had practically finished his preparations. He haddone everything that his uncle had entrusted to him, and there was nothing nowbut to wait the turn of events. In a well-regulated establishment like that ofLord Ravenspur's, everything had proceeded smoothly enough. By luncheon time thewhole of the boxes and portmanteaux had been packed, and the luggage despatched.Still, there was a perplexed look in Vera's eyes as she came into thebilliard-room.

"I have been looking for you everywhere, Walter," she said. "I want to knowwhat is the meaning of all this mystery. I have seen enough baggage leave thehouse to supply us with all we want for a season in Scotland. When I asked mymaid what she was doing, she simply said that she had been instructed by thehousekeeper to get my things ready. Of course, I raised no objection, but Ishould certainly like to know what it all means."

Walter looked a trifle embarrassed. He had quite forgotten that Vera mightshow a natural curiosity.

"We are going away for a little time," he explained. "The fact of the matteris, your guardian has not been at all well lately. But you must have noticedthat for yourself. He has had a great deal to try him, too, and he is afraid ofa breakdown. We are going to Weymouth direct from Lord Ringmar's House, and nota soul is to know anything about it. You see, if we stay and make elaboratepreparations, it will take quite a week to make a start. It is far better to letpeople know afterwards that Lord Ravenspur has been ordered away peremptorily,and that he is to have perfect rest for the next month or so. Only I can'tsufficiently impress upon you the necessity of keeping this thing absolutelysecret."

"From everybody," Walter said, somewhat sternly. "Vera, your guardian is ingreat danger. You are in great danger yourself. I dare not tell you more now,but perhaps I shall be permitted to say it later on. Go about your business orpleasure to-day just as if nothing had happened."

Vera asked no further questions. She was perhaps just a little hurt thatWalter had refused to take her into his confidence. At the same time, she wasyoung and vigorous, and the thought of a change was not displeasing. She passedout of the house presently with a view to a walk in the park. She stopped beforea feeble, blind old man who was dolefully grinding out hymns on a dilapidatedorgan. A boy of some ten or twelve years was guiding the unfortunate man alongthe pavement. Vera took out her purse, and placed a shilling in the little tincup which the boy was carrying.

The man murmured something to the effect that this was his first day with theorgan. He seemed uneasy and undecided in his manner, and, naturally enough, Veraput this down to the strangeness of his surroundings. Then she hastened on tothe park, and the little incident passed from her mind. She had tea subsequentlywith a friend in Grosvenor Square, and when she came back, barely in time todress for dinner, she saw that the blind man was still in the Lane, grindingindustriously at his melancholy airs.

"I suppose Walter has told you," Ravenspur said as they sat down to dinner."You know where we are going?"

"He told me part," Vera said. "Really, I don't quite understand what all thismystery means."

"Indeed, it is absolutely necessary," Ravenspur said gravely. "It is asnecessary for your happiness as it is for mine. I have done my best to safeguardyour welfare----"

"Oh, yes, yes," Vera cried contritely. "I am a most ungrateful girl to speakin that way. After all, I am looking forward to the trip. It is probably thelast happy time we shall have together. Yes; I have quite made up my mind to getmy own living. But we won't discuss that tonight."

Dinner was over at length and the carriage was ordered round. Vera camedownstairs presently; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling. She wasvery alluring and attractive in her white dress. She had made up her mind to beabsolutely happy tonight. The dress was a special present from Lord Ravenspur,and Vera had been afraid to ask what the Paris house had charged for it. Still,it was the last extravagance she was going to put Lord Ravenspur to.

"I declare there is my old blind man still," she said, as she got into thecarriage. "He must have been here all day. I must make inquiries, and see what Ican do for him."

The door of the carriage was banged to, and the horses trotted away. As theypassed the spot where the blind man was standing he suddenly ceased his dolefulairs and whistled softly. A moment later and a shabby figure came shuffling downthe Lane.

"That's right, Stevens," the blind man said in a quick, clear voice. "Nowhere's the note, and, mind, you are not to deliver it before half-past twelve.This is most important. If you are successful, come back to me at the appointedspot, and I will see that you get your money--fifty pounds."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

VERA'S WARNING.

Amongst her many friends, and in the keen enjoyment of the evening, Veraforgot her fears. She was young enough to appreciate to the full the joys oflife. She was strong and vigorous, and most things pleased her. Besides, therewas always the reflection that the gates would be closed to her before long.Once she had taken her fate in her own hands, and had gone into the world to gether living, there would be no more of this. A little longer and she would saygoodbye to Lord Ravenspur and Walter. Of course, the wrench would be a bitterone, for she was by no means blind to the hardships and privations of the poor.

Still, she put that out of her mind now. She was going to have a verypleasant evening, and by this time tomorrow she would be far away from the heatand dust and bustle of London. In her mind's eye she could see the yacht slidingover the water. She could see the moon shining on the waves, and turningtheir crests to molten silver.

The big house was crowded to its utmost capacity, for Lady Ringmar was one ofthe most prominent of society women, and invitations to her entertainments wereeagerly sought after. The rooms were filled. At the end of the long corridorVera caught a peep of the garden, all aglow with points of flame from theelectric lights entwined about the trees and shrubs.

An hour or so passed pleasantly enough; then, as the heat grew more intenseVera's mind turned to the garden. There were huge blocks of ice, lookingdeliciously cool, behind banks of ferns. The air hummed with the noise ofelectric fans, and yet the atmosphere was heavy and enervating. Supper was athing of the past, and Vera stood at the head of a flight of marble steps, whichled to the garden. She was quite alone. She was looking for Walter, whom she hadnot seen for some little time. She turned with a smile as someone murmured hername. She saw that it was Ravenspur's friend, Sir James Seton, who was standingby her side.

"So you are all alone," he said. "What are those young men thinking about? Itwas very different in my day."

Vera smiled somewhat faintly. She had every respect for Sir James. He waskindly disposed enough, but in the eyes of youth he was regarded as something ofa bore. There was no help for it when he suggested a turn in the garden.

"Certainly," Vera murmured; "only I don't want to walk far. I have enjoyed myfirst season in town immensely, but I am beginning to long for the fresh air inthe country again."

"Quite right," Sir James agreed; "just the same with me. Why people boxthemselves up in London during the most beautiful months in the year I can'timagine. They talk about England being a decadent country! A man wants a realstamina to struggle through the three months which we call the season. Some ofthese men are a perfect marvel to me. Take Ravenspur, for example. That manworks as hard as any man in England. He is here, there, and everywhere, and yethe finds plenty of time for this sort of thing, too. If there is anybody I envy,it is Ravenspur."

"I am sure you have no need to envy anybody," Vera laughed. "Besides, in manyways you are very like him. Most people see a strong resemblance between youtwo."

"Do you really think so?" he asked eagerly. "Well, I suppose what everybodysays is bound to be true. At the same time, these resemblances are not alwaysdesirable. For instance, look what happened to me only the other day."

"Don't you know? It was the last time I dined with your guardian. Didn't theytell you about it? It reminded me of the days when I was a soldier--quite anadventure, too, I assure you. I was coming up Cheyne Row, more or less in thedarkness, when a man darted out of the shadows, and attacked me. I had somedifficulty in beating him off. I don't know whether the man was mad or not, buthis intentions were quite serious."

"Really!" Vera exclaimed, with widely opened eyes. "And what became of theman? Was he locked up?"

"Oh, he got away before I could do anything. Still, it was very unpleasantwhile it lasted, I assure you."

"It must have been," Vera said thoughtfully. "But, my dear Sir James, I don'tquite understand what this adventure has to do with your likeness to LordRavenspur."

"Oh, well, I had almost forgotten that. You see, when the fellow rushed atme, he addressed me as Ravenspur, just as the hero of the melodrama addressesthe villain when he is caught in the last act. There is not the slightest doubtthat I was mistaken for your guardian. Indeed, as soon as the man realised hismistake, he drew off at once. I am rather surprised they did not tell you."

Vera was listening uneasily enough now. In the ordinary course of events shewould have heard all about that mysterious occurrence. Why had they kept theknowledge from her? As she sat there thinking the matter over, she began in hermind to piece events together. So this sudden flight from London was dictated bypersonal fear on the part of Lord Ravenspur. He wanted to get away from thisrelentless foe. There was no other way to safeguard himself than by thisyachting cruise. And hitherto Vera had never detected in her guardian theslightest sign of nervousness or fear. This foe, then, must be a man ofextraordinary determination and tenacity of purpose.

Vera could see it all more clearly now. She recollected the disturbance inthe conservatory on the night of Sir James Seton's visit to Park Lane. Sherecollected with even more significant force the cries and the shattering ofglass in the conservatory the previous evening. And why, for the first time inhis life, had Lord Ravenspur caused the bloodhounds to be brought up fromHampshire? All these questions Vera asked herself, but she could think of noreply. In some vague way her woman's instinct told her that she was mixed up inthe business. If so, it would never do for her to desert Lord Ravenspur at thiscritical moment. She would have to stay by him until the danger was past.

She sat there replying to the chattering remarks of her companion at random,until even he saw how preoccupied she was.

"I am sure I beg your pardon," Vera murmured. "I am not quite myself. I wishyou would do me a favour, Sir James. Would you mind finding Walter and sendinghim to me?"

Sir James trotted off obediently enough, and presently Walter came along. Helooked somewhat warm and heated.

"I am sorry I couldn't find you before," he said. "We have been having a bitof fun in the drawing-room. It was rather a nuisance, too. What do you thinkhappened? But you will never guess. One of the dogs got away and actuallyfollowed us here. I found three or four ladies held up by one of the brutes in adrawing-room. They were frightened to death, not knowing what a peacefulcreature poor Bruno is in the ordinary way. I had to lead him away and tie himup to one of the trees in the shrubbery."

Vera smiled as she thought of the terror which the great hound wouldnaturally inspire. No doubt he had managed to get away from Park Lane and hadtracked them to Lady Ringmar's house.

"He will be quite quiet where he is," she said, "and we can take him with uswhen we go. I shall be glad to get away. I am longing to leave London behind menow."

Walter looked anxiously at his companion. He saw how pale and disturbed shewas, how distressed her features were.

"I was going to tell you," Vera replied. "I have had a considerable shocktonight. I have learnt something which you tried to conceal from me. Oh, I amnot blaming you, because I am sure you only acted for the best, but I have justbeen having a conversation with Sir James Seton, and he was telling me all aboutthe attack that was made on him the other night when he came to dine with us. Iwas dreadfully grieved to hear what he had to say."

"Oh, yes, I know. You are thinking about me now," Vera said. "But it israther too late. That murderous attack was made upon Sir James Seton because themiscreant mistook him for Lord Ravenspur. There can be no doubt about it,because Sir James told me so. And when I heard that, other strange circumstancesflashed into my mind. For instance, those two mysterious occurrences in thestudio. Now, tell me honestly, Walter, is the danger really great?"

"I am very much afraid it is," he said presently. "It is all a question oftime. And you must not regard Lord Ravenspur as a coward, because he is nothingof the kind. I am certain that he is acting in your very best interests----"

"Ah, I thought I was at the bottom of it somewhere," Vera cried, as Walterbit his lip. "I was absolutely convinced of it. Oh, I know I couldn't tell youwhy, except that my instinct warns me. But am I not to know, Walter? Am I to goon being treated as a child? You have both been very good to me, and the meresuggestion that I am a danger and a burden to you fills me with pain. Won't youtake me into your confidence? I am no longer a child."

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE MESSAGE.

"If the secret were only my own I would not hesitate a moment," Walter said."Be patient a little longer, my dearest girl. I am quite sure that Ravenspurwill tell you when the proper time comes. Once we are on board the yacht therewill be no occasion for further secrecy. Another hour, and we shall be on ourway. I am not a nervous man, but this thing is beginning to worry me."

Vera persisted no further. The band had just ceased playing, and there was asudden rush of guests into the garden, so that there was no opportunity forfurther privacy. A somewhat imperious dowager pounced down upon Walter, with arequest that he would find her daughter, and there was nothing for it but toobey. Just for a moment Vera stood in the midst of a laughing, chattering groupof friends, then she managed to slip away unseen. She wanted to be alone andthink this matter out.

She was just a little hurt that the others had not taken her into theirconfidence. Still, perhaps Lord Ravenspur had acted in this way to save her painand annoyance. He had always been kind and considerate to her. She owed him adeep debt of gratitude. And yet, up to a few moments ago, she had been preparedto turn her back upon her best friends and face the world alone. But she couldnot do that now. She would have to abandon her plans for the future. She wouldhave to stay by Lord Ravenspur's side until this terrible danger was past. Shewas only a girl, and could not do much. Still, that little she would docheerfully.

Vera was still busy with these painful thoughts when a footman came up andspoke to her. He had a note on a tray, which he handed to Vera, with theintimation that there was no reply. So far as Vera could tell, the handwritingwas quite strange to her.

"It was left by some strange man, miss," the servant said. "I was to give itto you at once, when you were alone, if possible."

The footman's manner was perfectly respectful. He discreetly said nothing ofthe sovereign which had accompanied the letter. Vera turned away and broke theseal. She was in a somewhat secluded part of the garden now, but she had nodifficulty in reading the letter with the aid of the sparkling points of flamewhich glimmered from the branches of the overhanging trees.

"I want you to read this alone. I want you to promise me that it shall beshown to nobody. I daresay you will wonder why I write like this, after allthese years, but I can only plead that circumstances, not myself, are alone toblame. I want you to believe that up till quite recently I was hardly aware ofyour existence. But all these things I can explain when we meet. Naturally youwill ask yourself who I am, and why I should venture to address you in thisfashion. You will see presently.

"For the last eighteen years you have dwelt under the roof of Lord Ravenspur.You have passed as his ward, and I understand that he has taken the greatestcare of you. This much goes to his credit. But that he behaved like a scoundrelat the outset I am prepared to prove. Had it not been for him we should not havebeen parted all these years, and you would have had a better chance of makingthe acquaintance of your most unhappy mother.

"There, I have told the truth at length, and now you are aware who it is thatthus addresses you. When we meet I shall be able to explain why I did nothingall these years--but I am wasting time. I know that you are going away tonight.I know that you may be out of London for some months. At present, circumstancesdo not permit me to claim my rights, or to interfere with your plans. You willgo away this evening just as if nothing had happened, but before you go it ismost imperative that I should see you, if only for half an hour. I have had thisletter sent you by a trusty friend, who will not fail me. If you will go throughthe shrubbery at the back, to Lady Ringmar's house, you will find a pathwaybordered with nut trees, which ends in a green gate, leading to the lane at theback of the house. There you will find another friend, who will bring you to mewithout delay. I give you my word I will not detain you more than half an hour.Then you can return to your friends as if nothing had happened. They will benone the wiser. Indeed, I will ask you not to mention this letter to them atall.

"I am not going to anticipate your refusal, for I know that you will come,especially when I sign myself

In a state of mind bordering on absolute bewilderment, Vera read the letteragain and again. It filled her with a pain which was closely akin to shame. Sofar as she could see, there was no mistaking the relationship which at one timehad existed between the writer of the letter and Lord Ravenspur. A naturalcraving and desire to see her mother came over Vera. She knew there was yet timeto get away from Lady Ringmar's house and back again before the hour fixed fortheir departure. Vera slipped the letter inside her dress, and with a firm,determined step strode off in the direction of the shrubbery. She came presentlyto the spot indicated in the letter. She looked eagerly around to see if anybodyawaited her. There was the faint suggestion of cigarette smoke lingering in theair, and then, from a turn in the path, the figure of a man emerged. Vera couldsee that he was exceedingly well turned out in evening dress. The dust coat hewas wearing only partially concealed a slim built, athletic figure. For therest, the man was good looking enough, and Vera judged from his dark eyes andblack moustache that he was a foreigner, doubtless some relation of her mother.He lifted his hat with great courtesy, and waited for the girl to speak.

"I am already aware of that," the stranger replied. "I suppose you receivedthe Countess's letter? But you must have done so, otherwise you would not behere. You are prepared----"

"One moment," Vera said. Caution had suddenly returned to her, and there wassomething in the eager light in the man's eyes now that warned her to becareful. "I shall be glad if you will let me know who you are. What is yourname, for instance?"

The gleam in the stranger's eyes deepened in intensity, a quick frown knittedhis brows.

"Can it in the least matter?" he demanded. "You have received the letter, andit is only for you to obey."

There was a peremptory ring in the speech which Vera did not like at all. Sherealised that she was in a lonely part of the grounds, and that, in case ofneed, assistance was a long way off. She began to wish that she had been moreprudent. After all, the whole thing might be a plot against her happiness, ascheme into which she had fallen without asking herself a single question. Thesedoubts became something like certainties when the stranger strode past her andcut off all means of retreat.

"You are wasting my time," he said, "and time is precious tonight. It is onlya matter of half an hour altogether, and then you will be back with your friendsonce more. If I were not anxious for your welfare do you suppose I would be hereat all?"

The speaker's English was good enough, but Vera did not fail to detect theforeign accent behind it. She was becoming afraid now. Her heart was beatingfaster. She turned to see if assistance might not be at hand. But the thickbelts of shrubs cut off all sounds. She could hear absolutely nothing in thedirection of the house. And then there was another cause for fear. Surely shecould hear something creeping stealthily through the bushes. She listened again,and the footsteps seemed to grow closer. Then the bushes parted, and a greatblack head and a pair of gleaming eyes emerged, followed by a long, heavy bodythat crept up to Vera's side and rubbed against her dress. A cry of thankfulnessescaped her.

Then she remembered the dog had followed them from Park Lane. He had beentied up by Walter in the shrubbery, and the broken cord attached to his collartold the rest of the story. The great hound lifted his head. The glitteringamber-coloured eyes were turned on the stranger, and a deep growl came from thedepths of the dog's throat. The small man in evening dress stepped back.

"Not while I am here," Vera said coldly, "though, perhaps if he met you herealone you might have cause for uneasiness. And now, sir, will you be so good asto tell me your name?"

"Amati," the stranger said sullenly. "But what does it matter? You have madeup your mind by this time whether you are coming with me or not. You knowperfectly well, from the letter in your possession, that I am a messenger fromyour mother. I have a cab outside the lane, and I can take you to her at once. Ipledge you my word that you shall be back in half an hour."

"It would be an easy matter for my mother to have come here," she said."There is not the slightest chance of being interrupted. And seeing that time isso short----"

The last words were inaudible, for there was a shrill whistle somewhere inthe garden, and the dog by Vera's side whined uneasily. As Vera stooped tosoothe him she twisted her handkerchief in the hound's collar. She recognisedthe whistle as Walter's. Then she gave a sign and the great beast bounded away.

CHAPTER XXX.

LOST.

A peculiar grim smile came over the face of the man who called himself Amati.He hesitated no longer, but with a single bound had reached Vera's side, his armwas around her neck and his right hand pressed to her lips before she couldutter a sound.

"Be silent," he hissed, "and all will be well with you. Believe me, I wish todo you no harm. You are quite safe with me."

There was nothing for it but to stand there obedient to the speaker's will.Then, from his lips, came the sound like that of a bird startled from its nestin the night. The green door opened, and another man appeared. Almost beforeVera knew what was happening she was half led, half carried through the door anddeposited in a cab. It seemed to her that her senses were fading away, thatthere was something peculiarly sweet and faint smelling on the handkerchiefwhich her assailant had pressed to her lips. The cab drove away swiftly, and thelane was left in silence once more.

Meanwhile the evening was passing on, and Ravenspur was anxiously waiting forthe moment when it would be time to get away. Walter came into the gardenpresently, wondering what had become of Vera.

"I have been looking for her, too," Ravenspur said. "That is the worst of agreat crush in a great house like this. It is so difficult to find anybody. Wemust be off in a quarter of an hour from now. What is all this I hear about oneof the dogs?"

"Oh, that is true enough," Walter laughed. "It was old Bruno. I suppose hemanaged to get away from Park Lane. At any rate, he followed us here and I foundhim holding up some people in one of the drawing-rooms. I thought he might justas well come to the station with us, so I tied him up in the shrubbery. When Iwent to see if he was all right just now I found the rascal had got away again.He came back when I whistled, but I couldn't get him to come to my side. Isuppose he was afraid of getting a thrashing. However, he is lying down quitegood in the shrubbery now, so there is no cause for worry. I daresay that itwould be rather alarming for some of these women to be suddenly confronted withthe dog when they were carrying on a tender flirtation in one of the arbours."

But Lord Ravenspur was not listening. He looked anxious and worried and fullof trouble.

"Oh, Bruno will follow the cab right enough," he said impatiently, "and Idaresay the other dog is at the station by this time. I wish you would go andfind Vera for me. It sounds foolish, I know, but I have an absurd idea thatsomething may happen just at the last moment. It is always the way when one isoverstrung."

Walter went off on his errand cheerfully enough. The moments passed, but hedid not return, and the feeling of anxiety on Ravenspur's part deepened.Finally, Walter returned, with a face as anxious as Lord Ravenspur's own. Hecaught the latter's arm almost fiercely.

"I begin to think you are right," he whispered. "I cannot find Vera anywhere.One of her girl friends tells me that she last saw her quite alone going off inthe direction of the pathway behind the shrubbery. That was half an hour ago.What she could be doing there I haven't the remotest idea."

"I had half expected this," he muttered. "Something of the kind was bound tohappen. She has been lured away, or she has been kidnapped. When you come tothink of it, it is quite an easy matter in grounds as large as these. It seemsquite hopeless to try and fight against these scoundrels. Depend upon it, theyhave found out our plans in some mysterious way, and have taken this step tothwart them at the last moment. But how did they manage, how could they havecommunicated with Vera? And what extraordinary allurement did they hold out toher to induce her to go off with strangers in this way? Oh, the thing ismaddening!"

"I don't know," Walter exclaimed. "I only know that we are wasting time, andvery precious time at that. Now, let me see, what would be the most likely thingto appeal to the sentiments of a young girl like Vera? I should say something todo with her mother. That, you may depend upon it--a letter from her mother. Wecan very soon see whether my suspicions are right or not. I'll go out into thehall at once and interview the footmen."

A group of idle, lounging footmen were loafing in the hall. Walter wentstraight to the point.

"Which of you gave Miss Rayne a letter just now?" he demanded. "And whobrought it? Come, speak out!"

The strong, determined voice was not without its effect. One of the footmencame forward and murmured that he had taken the letter and delivered it to Vera.

"It was about half an hour ago, sir," he explained. "No, I don't know the manwho brought it. He looked like a small tradesman, or respectable clerk. All hetold me was to give the letter to Miss Rayne and see that she had it at once."

"Well, yes, sir," the man admitted. "The messenger did say that. You see,there was nothing strange--"

"Oh, of course not," Walter said impatiently. "You were to give it to MissRayne when she was alone, and you had a handsome tip for your pains. Was notthat so?"

The man's face testified to the fact that Walter's shot had hit the mark, butthe latter did not remain there a single moment longer. He had not lost sight ofthe fact that a cross-examination of a servant would probably have led to a dealof idle gossip, in which Vera's name would have been mixed up; and besides, thefootman was obviously an innocent party, and had told everything that he knew inconnection with the letter and its delivery.

"It is just as you feared," Walter said, when he reached Ravenspur's side. "Arespectably-dressed man came here half an hour ago and left a letter for Vera,which was to be delivered to her when she was alone. The thing was done, andthat is how the mischief began. I feel quite sure that I am right, and that thatletter came, or purported to come, from Vera's mother. The poor child wouldnaturally go off, thinking no evil. You may depend upon it that that scoundrelSilva is at the bottom of it all. He cannot strike you in one way, so he hasmade up his mind to deal the blow in another direction. There is no time to belost."

"But how on earth did they find out our plans?" Ravenspur groaned. "All theservants are to be trusted."

"I've got it," Walter said suddenly. "Don't you recollect that blindorgan-grinder that Vera was so interested in? He was hanging about Park Lane allday. Those sort of people have regular beats, and he has never been seen therebefore. He saw all that baggage going away, and drew his own conclusions. Itwould be an easy matter to have the stuff followed to Waterloo Station, and findall about the special train from the porters. But what are we going to do? Arewe going to raise an alarm?"

"Not yet," Ravenspur said hoarsely. "Don't let us have any scandal as long aswe can possibly avoid it. I'll go out with you and we'll make another search ofthe grounds first. We may find some sort of a clue, and if we do we can followit up without anybody being any the wiser. Lady Ringmar will simply think thatwe went off without saying goodbye, and there will be an end of the matter asfar as she is concerned. Now come along."

The two slipped out into the grounds again and made a rapid search of thegarden. In the shrubbery they found the great hound, Bruno, patiently waitingthere. Apparently he seemed to think that his time for punishment was past, forhe crept up to Walter's side and rubbed his great, black muzzle against hisknee.

"Here's an inspiration," Walter exclaimed. "If Vera went away at all, shemust have gone by the back gate. We will put Bruno on the scent, and if--Hallo,what's this?"

The dainty white cambric, with its fringe of lace, caught Walter's eye. Hewithdrew the fragment from under the dog's collar and held it up to one of thepoints of electric flame.

"Here is a clue with a vengeance," he exclaimed. "This is Vera'shandkerchief. Depend upon it, this is a signal to us that the dog must have beenwith her at the time she went, and she must certainly have gone voluntarily, orthe dog would have made short work of the person with whom Vera departed. Shetook this way of letting us know she had gone, and most assuredly she must havegone by the back gate. What a lucky thing it was that the dog came here tonight.Let us put him on the scent at once."

"Your suggestion is an inspiration," Ravenspur muttered. "But we can't goquite like this, you know. Run back to the house and get our coats and hats.Don't be long."

Walter was back in a minute or two with the wraps. Then he laid his hand onthe dog's collar and led him down the path at the back of the shrubbery. Thegreat beast appeared to know exactly what was wanted of him, for, after throwingup his head and giving vent to a long-drawn howl, he placed his muzzle on theground and scratched furiously at the door. When the road was reached, atlength, the dog tore along at a furious rate, so that the silk scarf twistedround his collar tired Walter's arms terribly.

Still, that did not matter, as they were making good progress now. They wenton and on, passing street after street, until the dawn came, and they were in adistant suburb. Before an attractive-looking house, the blinds and shutters ofwhich were closely drawn, Bruno paused and threw up his head.

"This is the place right enough," Walter whispered. "Be careful. If we areseen everything is spoilt."

CHAPTER XXXI.

A MISSING LINK.

It was practically daylight now, so that the greatest caution was absolutelynecessary. It was possible to obtain cover behind a group of thorn bushes andtake observations of the house. But even that did not lack risk, all the more sobecause of the presence of the dog. The great hound had served his purpose, andit was essential that he should be got rid of, for the present at any rate.

The house itself was quite a good one. The grounds were neat and trim. Theflower boxes in the windows ablaze with bloom. The place spoke for itself as theresidence of some prosperous individual who, in all probability, was somebody ofimportance in the City. It was the last place in the world to associate withcrime and violence. In front of the house was a fairly large lawn, shaded byshrubs and trees. A kitchen garden at the back was bounded by a lane, and on thefar side of this stretched a wide open common covered with gorse and bracken.

"Not the faintest,'" Walter confessed. "I have never been here before. Theonly thing I am sure of is that Vera is in yonder house. But let us get awayfrom here and talk it over. The further this thing goes, the more sure I am thatwe have foes to deal with who are clever as they are unscrupulous."

Walter suggested skirting round the back of the house, and so on to thecommon. Once there, they found shelter enough, for the gorse was high and thebracken was deep. Indeed, a regiment of soldiers might have hidden there withperfect safety.

"I think I begin to see my way," Walter said. "One of us must stay here andthe other get back to London without delay. If you don't mind, I should like toconsult my friend Venables about this business. He is very clever andcourageous, and, besides, he has a decided fondness for detective business. Ithink you will agree with me that we want another hand?"

"We want half a dozen," Ravenspur murmured. "What we really ought to do is toplace the matter in the hands of the police and have yonder house searched atonce. Yet, I am very loth to do that. I am exceedingly anxious to preventanything like a scandal, and this is the very sort of thing to appeal to thecheap Press. But what are we going to do about our journey to Weymouth? Whatwould the officials at Waterloo think when we didn't turn up last night? And,again, there are all the servants in Park Lane. If you can only show me some wayto stop the mouths of these people I shall be grateful. You know what servantsare."

"I think that can be managed," Walter said after a thoughtful pause. "Youstay here while I go back to London. I will return as soon as possible. Oh, ofcourse, I will bring a change of clothing with me. It would be madness to hangabout a suburb like this in evening dress. We should be spotted in a moment."

It seemed to Ravenspur that there was no help for it. Anxious and troubledand worn out as he was, he could not be altogether blind to the absurdity of thesituation. The idea of a man in his position hiding himself on a London common,dressed as he was, seemed ridiculous. He had no more than a dust coat over hisevening dress; he was wearing the collar of an Order. Still, as he looked abouthim he took fresh heart of grace. The common appeared to be little frequented.There were deep hollows here and there, full of bracken and brambles, underwhich it was possible to hide. There was no prospect of Walter getting backwithin the next three hours. There was nothing for it but to make the best ofthe situation.

Meanwhile, Walter was hurrying back to London. He made a widedétourof the common, so that it was not possible for him to be seen from the house.Then presently he struck a main road on the far side of which ran a railwayline. He could see in the distance the buildings and signals that marked astation. At any rate, he would be able to find out where he was withoutdisplaying his ignorance by asking questions. It was still quite early, only alittle past five o'clock, as Walter found on consulting his watch. After allsaid and done, the station was not much use to him, for probably no train wouldrun within the next couple of hours. Presently there was a clatter of hoofsbehind, and an empty hansom came along. The sight of the cab was proof to Walterthat he was not very far outside the radius. A happy idea came to him.

"Well, yes, sir," the cabman explained. "I have been taking a fare out toCannon Green."

"Then you are just the man for me," Walter exclaimed. "My man has failed toturn up, and I was going to try the station. I suppose that is Cannon Greenstation just at the end of the road?"

"That's right, sir," the cabman said civilly. "But you'll get no train yet.Drive you anywhere you like, sir, for half-a-sovereign."

Walter jumped into the cab without further hesitation. A ride of a littleover an hour brought him to Park Lane. A sleepy footman opened the door, andregarded Walter in amazement. He had his story all ready. There had beenmisunderstanding on the previous evening, and Lord Ravenspur and Miss Rayne hadgone on to Weymouth by an early train. There was something very paltry aboutthis deception, but at the same time it seemed to Walter to be absolutelynecessary. He roused his own man; together they packed a couple of portmanteaux,which Walter gave directions should be taken to Waterloo Station without delay,and left in the cloakroom. Once he had satisfied the curiosity of the householdin Park Lane, he went on promptly to Venables' rooms. Over a hasty breakfast heexplained everything that had happened to his companion. As he expected,Venables at once threw himself heart and soul into the adventure.

"I quite understand your point of view," he exclaimed. "What you want to dois to hang about all day and take observations. At the same time, it isabsolutely necessary that we should arouse no suspicions. I think I can see myway. This is a matter of disguise. We can pick up all we want in this directionin Covent Garden on our way to the station."

"There is only one thing that worries me," Walter said, "and that is Bruno.What shall we do with him?"

"Oh, that's all right," Venables cried. "Very well-trained dog, isn't he? Somuch the better. You see, in the course of my adventures I have come across somepretty shady specimens of humanity, though I am bound to say that I have foundmany of this class pretty faithful when they are well paid. Now I know a fellowat Cannon Green who will look after the dog for us for a consideration. He is afancier himself, and always has a few animals for sale. What more natural thanthat he should have a bloodhound on the premises? Mr. Bill Perks is more thansuspected of being a receiver of stolen goods, and on two occasions has been introuble. Still, he knows me, and will do anything I like, provided I pay himhandsomely. Don't let us waste any more time."

An hour later and the two adventurers left the train at Cannon Green, bearinga set of instruments such as those used by surveyors when they are planning andlaying out new land. Their disguise was slight enough, but quite sufficient forthe purpose. Both wore smart looking caps, edged with gold, so that theirappearance was sufficiently formal and official. In addition to this Waltercarried a bulky bag, which contained a complete change of clothing for LordRavenspur. The latter was glad enough to see Walter and Venables. He breathed alittle more freely when he found himself clad at length in a Norfolk suit. Herather rebelled against a showy white helmet and a set of long grey whiskerswhich Venables proceeded to attach dexterously to his face. A few touches ofgrease paint and pencil, together with a pair of big spectacles, rendered thedisguise complete. Walter expressed his admiration.

"And you are changed almost out of recognition," Ravenspur said. "Really, Imust compliment Mr. Venables. And now, I suppose I had better hide the bag inthese bushes. We have a very anxious day before us, I am afraid, but that doesnot prevent one feeling the call of Nature. I don't think I was ever soravenously hungry in my life. Where can we get some breakfast?"

Venables, who seemed to have thought of everything, had already solved theproblem. There was a very fair hotel not far from the station, and it would bean easy matter to hide the surveying outfit till it was needed. In the firstplace, they could skirt round the edge of the common, and pay a call on the manPerks, who would look after the dog till his services were needed again.

They came at length to Perks' house, a rather dilapidated looking place, witha large, untidy garden around it. There were sheds and huts and kennels at theback, so that the intruders were greeted with a terrible din of barking as theywent up the path.

"Cunning hand, Perks," Venables explained. "It is very little he makes out ofdog-fancying. But see how useful these animals are. Day or night the police cannever approach the place with the object of raid without Perks having amplenotice. But come along, and you shall see the man for yourselves. Oh, youneedn't trouble yourself about your disguise. Perks is not in the leastsuspicious nor will he ask any questions. He will only think that you are acouple of amateur detectives like myself."

CHAPTER XXXII.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

Roused by the angry uproar of the dogs, a tall, round-shouldered individualappeared in the doorway. He had a melancholy cast of face which was intensifiedby the lank black hair which hung upon his shoulders. Indeed, the man lookedmore like some street preacher than a suspect with a record of crime behind him.But the eyes were shrewd enough, and so was the smile with which Perks greetedVenables when the latter disclosed his identity.

"Ah, well, you was always one for your little games, sir," he said. "Takecare of that dog for you? Of course I will. And a rare beauty he is. Is thereanything else, gentlemen?"

"No," Venables explained. "Mind the dog is for sale if anybody asksquestions. You have had him for some time, and you want a big price for him.Maybe we shall be able to find a job for you after dark tonight, but as to thatI can say nothing for the present. At any rate, there is a five-pound note foryou so long as you are discreet and silent. I suppose I can come into your houseand write a letter? I'll get you to post it presently."

Perks intimated that his house was at the disposal of the visitors, and theyall trooped inside. The place looked cosy and comfortable enough, though it wassomewhat untidy. At one end of the table was a china bowl, which was filled withodds and ends of small gold and silver ornaments. Venables winked at Perks, andthe latter grinned sheepishly. He snatched up the bowl, and hastily removed itto a side table. Ravenspur held out a detaining hand.

"One moment," he said, "I am rather fond of those kind of things. I don'twish to be inquisitive, or to ask idle questions, but unless I am greatlymistaken you have a Commonwealth porringer amongst those things. I should liketo look at it."

Perks bowed to the inevitable. He cursed himself slightly under his breathfor his folly in not removing everything, but he felt safe in the hands of hisvisitors. They would not be likely to ask any questions as to whence the plundercame. By the time that Venables had written and stamped his letter, LordRavenspur came forward with a small metal disc in his hand.

"This is a bit of a curio in its way," he said. "Intrinsically it is worthvery little, only a few shillings at the outside. If you like to take asovereign for it----"

Perks fell in with the suggestion eagerly enough. There was no reason to stayany longer, and the trio set out for the hotel, feeling now that it was possibleto move without the slightest fear of alarming the inhabitants of the cottage onthe common.

"I suppose that was stolen property we caught Perks looking over?" Ravenspurasked.

"Not the slightest doubt of it," Venables said coolly. "I daresay if we hadbeen voted suspicious the signal would have been flashed back to the house tohide it at once. But if you thought it was stolen property, Lord Ravenspur, whydid you invest in that little disc which you took such a fancy to?"

"I am going to tell you something startling," Ravenspur replied. "Walter, yourecollect that little ornament which I bought in Rome, and subsequently gave topoor Delahay who took a great fancy to it? I had his initials engraved on theback. He wore it on his watch-chain."

"I recollect it perfectly well," Walter said. "Delahay was wearing it thelast time I ever saw him. But what has all this got to do with your purchase ofthis morning?"

"Only that it happens to be the same thing," Ravenspur said quietly. "Irecognised it in a moment. Oh, there is no mistake. Here is the disc for you toexamine for yourself. You will see the initials and the date on the back of it.As soon as we get time, we must ascertain from Inspector Dallas if Delahay'swatch was missing when his body was found. If so, then this opens quite a newphase of the mystery. On the whole, I am not at all sorry that we came hereto-day. Of course, I kept my knowledge to myself, because I didn't want toarouse Perks' suspicions. But if we can contrive to find out from whom he boughtthis thing we shall be going a long way to clear up the mystery of poorDelahay's death."

The matter was discussed at some length over the breakfast, to which all ofthem did ample justice. Once this was finished, they made their way back to thecommon again, and sat down on the grass to mature their plan of campaign.

"Now what we want to do," Venables began, "is this. We want to be in aposition to make a close study of yonder house without arousing the suspicionsof the people there. I racked my brain for a long time before I could think of afeasible scheme. And then it came to to me like an inspiration. What could we dobetter than pass ourselves off as an Ordnance Survey party down here onbusiness? That is why I procured the official-looking caps, to say nothing ofthe theodolite and the notebooks. Now you, Lord Ravenspur, have only got to lookwise and give us directions. You look exactly like the head of an exploringparty. We will pretend to work the theodolite, and make measurements, and allthat kind of thing."

"Of course," Venables went on; "that is the beauty of the scheme. No spot ofground is sacred to an Ordnance party. I have actually seen them work inside achurch. All we have got to do is to go about our business boldly and be quitefirm if anybody attempts to molest us. It may be news to you that nobody can beprosecuted for trespass unless specific damage is done."

The instruments were recovered presently from the hiding-place, and with thetheodolite on his shoulder Venables stepped boldly on to the lawn in front ofthe house, and gravely went to work. The blinds were all up by this time. Thewindows were opened, and a glimpse of well-furnished rooms could be seen in thebackground. A couple of maids stood in one of the windows, and watched thestrangers curiously.

"It looks respectable enough," Venables muttered, pretending to beexceedingly busy. "You may depend upon it, this is a tougher job than weanticipated. These servants are all right. You may be sure that they knownothing of what is going on. However, to make certain, I'll ask them formyself."

Venables approached the window and asked civilly for the loan of a smallpiece of string. He came back presently, after a chat of a minute or two, andonce more appeared to be wholly engrossed in his instrument. At the same time,he was telling his companions the information which he had gleaned.

"I knew I was right," he said. "The house has been let furnished to anItalian gentleman called something or another, I didn't quite catch what, andthe people only came down yesterday. Those servants go with the freehold, so tospeak, and they have all been in their present situation for some considerabletime. Their master is a City stockbroker, who, with his family, is on theContinent for the next month or two. If we are lucky we shall probably get asight of the Italian presently, though I expect we have all got a pretty shrewdnotion who the gentleman is."

The work proceeded gravely for a quarter of an hour. Levels appeared to betaken, and there was much entering of figures in the notebooks. Presently, asWalter glanced around him, he drew a deep breath, for there was no mistaking theidentity of the slim figure that emerged from one of the open French windows andcame striding eagerly down the lawn.

"Silva," Walter said under his breath. "Don't pretend to see him till he getsquite close. I think it would be a good thing if we left all the interviewing toVenables."

The Italian approached the group and superciliously demanded to know whatthey were doing there. He looked quite the master of the place in his cool,flannel suit. He had a cigarette between his strong, white teeth.

"Why are you trespassing here?" he demanded. "Don't you know that this isprivate property? Go, or I will call in the police and give you into custody."

"The police won't help you in this case," Venables said with the air of amilitary man who is quite sure of his ground. "We are here on Governmentbusiness. I don't know if you understand what I mean, but we are surveying, andnobody has a right to interfere with us, providing we do no damage. We can comeinto the house if we like. Indeed, I am not quite sure that we shan't have to. Isee you have got a flat roof, sir, with railings round. If we have occasion totake the theodolite up there I will ring the bell and let you know."

The whole thing was so coolly and naturally done that Silva was taken abackfor the moment. Evidently he had come out of the house full of suspicion, andwith the fixed intention of getting rid of these intruders as soon as possible.There was an uneasy look in his eyes as Venables suggested the roof of the houseas the field of action. He deemed it wise to shift his ground altogether.

"That will be very inconvenient," he said, in quite another voice. "I hopeyou will be able to manage without that if you can. However, if you will give mean hour's notice, I daresay----"

But Walter was no longer listening. He was standing up regarding the housewith a professional eye. His gaze vaguely took in a dormer window immediatelyunder the roof. There were bars to the window, pointing to the fact that at sometime or another the room had been used as a nursery. The window was blank for amoment, then a face appeared and looked out.

That instant was enough for Walter. There was no mistaking those features.They were those of Vera Rayne.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE MIDNIGHT MESSAGE.

It was with the greatest difficulty that Walter restrained himself. He darednot look round again until Silva's back was turned and the Italian returned tothe house. Even then it would have been impolitic to make a sign, for theremight be prying, suspicious eyes looking from other windows who wouldunderstand, and then the whole of Venables' ingenious scheme would be wasted.Turning sideways, Walter glanced up again. It seemed to him that he could stillcatch the outline of Vera's figure. Then a desperate idea occurred to him. Hestooped down and went through all the motions of patting and caressing somefavourite animal. There was just the outside chance that Vera might take this asan allusion to Bruno, and the knowledge that the dog had put her friends on hertrack. The girl was sharp and quick enough, and she might easily, in the lightof events, guess the identity of the trio on the lawn. Before Walter couldspeak, Venables glanced in his direction and smiled.

"Did you see it, too?" Walter exclaimed. "I am glad of that because now Iknow I was not mistaken."

"See what?" Ravenspur asked, apparently busy with his notebook. "I didn'tnotice anything."

"It was Vera," Walter whispered. "Whatever you do, don't look up now. Idaresay you happened to notice a dormer window in the roof, with bars in frontof it. Well, a moment ago, I saw Vera's face there. What a fortunate thing itwas that we thought of the dog last night! I knew he would not lead us astray."

"So far, so good," Venables murmured. "And now, don't let us forget what weare here for. The next thing is to go to the back of the house and go throughthe same pantomime there. What I want to do is to find the easiest way ofgetting into the place, and to ascertain how many people there are in the house,and where they sleep. For that purpose it is necessary to be as near the backdoor as possible. I shall want you two to keep up the masquerade while I pumpthe servants. With any luck we shall have got all we want to know by lunchtime."

Venables was as good as his word. By two o'clock the survey was complete, andthe trio were trudging off to their hotel to talk the matter over. It was in alittle arbour in the garden, over cigars and coffee, that Venables unbosomedhimself.

"It is like this," he explained. "I told you before that those servants werequite innocent of anything going wrong in the house, and so it turns out. Thetenant is Silva, and his sister, the countess of something or another, whosename doesn't matter, though it will be necessary to see the lady later on. Thereis no basement, and, as far as I could see, there would be very littledifficulty in obtaining entrance to the house by means of a small window thatgives light and air to the larder. On the ground floor are four living rooms,which we need not trouble about. There are four bedrooms on the first floor, andfour on the second, to say nothing of the room in the roof. I didn't dare to betoo curious about this roof room, but I am told that Silva uses it himself forcertain experiments, and that, as his experiments are dangerous, he keeps thekey in his pocket. The explanation sounds simple, and quite suffices for theservants; but I think we have got a pretty fair idea of what is going on in thatroof room. I have managed to make a rough sort of plan of the bedrooms, so thatwe shall be fairly safe when we come to break into the house, as we shall haveto do, soon after midnight, if you are agreeable."

"Isn't that rather a dangerous proceeding?" Walter asked. "I didn't know thatyou added housebreaking to your other accomplishments. Being amateurs, we arecertain to make a noise, and you may be pretty sure that Silva only sleeps onone ear."

"Oh, that part will be managed for us all right," Venables said coolly. "Thehousebreaking item of the programme will be carried out by Perks. The rascalknows he is quite safe in our hands, and he will do all that is necessary forabout a ten-pound note. Once his work is accomplished we will send him about hisbusiness. The rest we can manage ourselves. It will go hard, indeed, with us ifMiss Rayne is not back in our hands again before daylight."

Walter could think of no better scheme to offer, so that Venables was allowedto have his own way. There was nothing for it now but to pass the time as bestthey could till midnight The hours stole slowly on. The darkness deepened andnight came at length. Dinner had been a thing of the past for some time, and itwas getting near eleven o'clock before the trio, accompanied by Perks, madetheir way in the direction of the common. They lay quietly on the turf theretill a distant church clock struck twelve, then Venables jumped to his feet anddeclared that the time for action had arrived.

It was nervous enough work, and Walter was wishing it well over. There was notrouble in getting into the garden, and round to the back of the house, to thepoint fixed upon by Venables as being the most likely for their purpose. Theyhad all been provided with silent shoes by Perks, though no questions were askedas to whence they came. Now that the pinch had come Perks was by far the mostconfident of the party. Probably his previous experiences in this line werestanding him in good stead.

Coolly enough he produced a dark lantern and turned the disc of flame down,so that it shone alone upon the bag of tools which lay upon the grass. He pickedout one presently, and proceeded, in perfectly noiseless fashion, to cut out adisc of glass to which he had previously affixed a sheet of brown paper by theaid of the tallow from a candle. Once the instrument had severed the glass, theportion cut away fell noiselessly into Perks' hand, so that he had no difficultyin placing his arm inside and pulling back the catch. The window was now open,but it was sufficiently small to make entry into the house a matter of somedifficulty.

"I think you had better try first," Venables whispered to Walter. "You arethe most agile. Just work your way through and go round to the front door andlet us in. I don't think you need stay any longer, Perks."

"I am not quite so sure about that, sir," Perks grinned. "It is a very commonpractice with people to fasten their scullery and kitchen doors. I think I hadbetter stay here till the gentleman has made sure."

A grim, silent moment or two followed. Then, surely enough, Walter came backwith the whispered information that the kitchen door was locked. Perks chuckledto himself as he snatched up another instrument and squeezed through the window.He set to work in business-like fashion, so that the kitchen door was forced atlength without the slightest noise, and the way to the hall was clear.

In the strange, unfamiliar darkness, Walter stood for a moment until his eyesshould become accustomed to the objects all about him. One by one they began toloom out of the blackness. He could make out chairs and tables, the outline of asquare hall, and the front door at the end of it. He set his teeth together, nowfilled with a stern resolution to succeed or lose his life in the attempt. Hewas not ignorant of the class of man he had to deal with. He knew that Silvawould not hesitate to shoot him down like a dog if his presence were detected.But, surely, between the three of them, they would be able to manage? It onlyneeded to find Silva's room, to go in there and overpower him. Once he washelpless, to get up to the roof room and rescue Vera was the work of a moment.

With these sanguine thoughts uppermost in his mind, Walter cautiously madehis way in the direction of the front door. It was not difficult to draw thebolts or take down the chain. But the trouble lay in the fact that the door wasalso locked, and the key had vanished. Therefore, any idea of admitting hiscompanions that way had to be definitely abandoned.

Still, there were the windows, and French windows at that. But even thisscheme was frustrated by the knowledge, gained a moment later, that all theliving rooms on the ground floor were locked and the keys taken away. It was adisconcerting moment, and Walter hardly knew how to proceed. There was no helpfor it but to return by the way he had come and tell the others of hisdiscovery. As to Lord Ravenspur, he was far too big a man to squeeze through thelarder window, so that the perilous task would devolve entirely upon Walter andVenables.

As Walter stood there he became conscious of the fact that a feeble ray oflight was penetrating down the well of the stairs. Acting on the impulse of themoment he crept up a few of the thickly carpeted stairs until he was in aposition to command the landing. The light penetrated from one of the rooms, thedoor of which was slightly open, so that Walter was fain to look in. It was onlya night-light, after all, standing on a small table in the middle of the room.Even from that distance Walter could see that a letter lay by the side of thelight, or, rather, a sheet of paper with a message upon it. Powerful curiositydrew him on, and he snatched up the sheet of paper. There were only two or threelines, but Walter recognised, with a thrill, that they were in Vera'shandwriting. He had no time to read, before a sudden rush of cold air fromsomewhere extinguished the feeble light. Worse than this, the current slammedthe door to with a bang that shook the whole house. It was so utterlyunexpected, and the darkness was so intense, that Walter could only stand thereutterly lost as to his surroundings.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A STRANGE HOME-COMING.

Vera opened her eyes at length. Gradually the things that had happened cameback to her. She recognised the futility of resistance. All she could do was towait and hope for the best. But despite the startling rapidity with which eventshad moved, she was not in the least frightened. Her prevailing feeling was oneof indignation that any man should have dared to treat her in this way. Withal,there was a certain vein of curiosity that Vera did not care to suppress. Thecab was still moving briskly, and Vera judged by the trees on each side of theroad that they were already out in the country. The man sat opposite her, grimand silent. He made no inquiry as to how Vera was getting on. He suggested noapology for his violence.

The feeling of languor and the suggestion of headache passed away, leavingVera strong and vigorous again. It was impossible to sit there without speaking.

"Do you quite understand what you are doing?" she said to the man opposite."Do you realise that you are guilty of a criminal offence? You could beprosecuted for this."

"I will not contradict you," Silva said politely. "Believe me, I deeplyregret the necessity for taking this step. Yet it was impossible to satisfy ourrequirements in any other way."

"Oh, you are not alone, then?" Vera asked. "Would it be inquiring too much ifI asked who else is in this business?"

Silva smiled under cover of the darkness. A man of courage himself, headmired that quality in others. So the child that he had known, and been sopassionately attached to, eighteen years ago had grown up to be a worthyrepresentative of her race? Vera would have been astonished at that moment ifshe could have seen into the back of Silva's brain. She did not realise for amoment that here was a man who would have gone through fire and water for her,and yet, at the same time, he was prepared to wreak his insane vengeance uponthose whom she loved and admired more than anybody in the world. If Vera'shappiness had depended upon it, Silva would not have spared Ravenspur, even hadVera gone on her knees and asked for it. Yet he would have given his life if itcould have done any good to this proud descendant of the house of Descarti.

"Surely you can guess who is with me in this business?" he said. "Did I notbring you a letter from your mother?"

Vera started. She had forgotten her mother for the moment, and this questionof Silva's had opened up a new and painful train of thought. He was taking herto see her mother. But why had her mother so suddenly displayed this tendersolicitude, after leaving her absolutely alone all these years? That Vera'smother was in possession of her whereabouts, and had been all this time, thegirl did not doubt. When part of the story had to be told she had acceptedRavenspur's statement implicitly. Her mother was a vile woman, and the past wastoo painful for a young girl to hear. Ravenspur had not said so in as manywords, but that was distinctly the impression he had conveyed to Vera. She begandimly to comprehend now why this new-born affection of her mother's had notfound vent in the conventional way. Doubtless Ravenspur would have forbidden herthe house. Doubtless he had a hold that gave him the control of thesituation--probably a compact made years ago. And now one of the parties desiredto break it. Perhaps it was a question of money, or family property, orsomething of that kind? Vera had heard of similar cases.

At any rate, there must be some reason for this mystery and violence. And nodoubt every word that Ravenspur had said about her mother's character was true.Otherwise she could not have consented to an abduction like this. Still, therewas comfort in the reflection that Lord Ravenspur and Walter would leave nostone unturned to punish this outrage. The miscreants would be found out sooneror later. Vera congratulated herself now upon the fact that she had left herhandkerchief tied to the collar of the dog Bruno. That would be a sufficientclue to put her friends on the trail, and Bruno himself, with his unerringinstinct, would lead the pursuers to the right place. After all, theimprisonment could not last long, though Vera boiled with indignation as shethought of the treacherous way in which she had been deceived.

"That is the programme," Silva said coolly. "Unfortunately, you will not beable to see the Countess tonight. You may believe me or not, but I am sorry tohave been compelled to take a step like this. But you see, Lord Ravenspur'splans made it quite impossible for me to wait till tomorrow."

Vera was silent for a moment. She could see plainly that Ravenspur's cleverscheme for getting away to Weymouth had been betrayed by someone to this man.Her chief anxiety for the moment was for her guardian. It was terrible to thinkthat he had been dogged and watched by people so cunning and unscrupulous asthese. Vera was still thinking the matter over when the cab stopped and Silvabade her get out. A wild idea of appealing to the cabman for assistance wasdismissed as she caught sight of his face. There was a grin upon it, and thedriver unmistakably winked at Silva. There was just enough light for Vera to seethat the cabman was not wearing a badge. Doubtless he was a conspirator, too.There was nothing for it but to see the thing through to the finish. So Verafollowed Silva through the garden till he paused at length on the steps of ahouse, which appeared to be in total darkness.

"The servants have gone to bed," Silva explained, as he opened the door witha latchkey. "If you will wait a moment, I will turn up the gas. If you desireanything----"

"Nothing," Vera said curtly. "All I want you to do is to show me to my room.I wish to be alone."

Silva bowed politely enough. He turned and locked the door, and Vera saw thathe dropped the key in his pocket. Then he took a silver candlestick from thehall table and handed it to Vera, intimating that he would like her to precedehim up the stairs. They came at length to a room in the roof of the house whichappeared to be comfortably, almost luxuriously furnished, and with everyfeminine requirement at hand. With absolute amazement Vera saw her own silvertoilet set laid out on the dressing table, her handbag was on the floor, and inone corner of the room stood the two dress-baskets which her maid had packed forimmediate use on board the yacht. A slight smile of amusement flickered overSilva's face as he noticed Vera's amazement.

"Everything has been done to make you comfortable," he said. "It was my ownidea to remove your immediate belongings from Waterloo Station and bring them onhere. I assure you that it was no difficult job. And now I wish you goodnight,with a thousand pardons for the way in which I have been compelled to treat you.Tomorrow morning----"

Silva paused significantly and bowed himself out of the room. He closed thedoor gently behind him, and Vera waited till the sound of his footsteps had diedaway. She tried the door, but, as she had anticipated, it was fastened on theoutside. Beyond all question, she was a prisoner. There was nothing but to makethe best of it, and wait on the course of events. There were two bolts on theinside of the door, and, having secured these, Vera felt easier in her mind. Sheundressed slowly, and more for something to occupy her mind than anything else.She would never be able to sleep again. The idea of sleep seemed to be out ofthe question. Yet, within ten minutes, Vera had fallen into a deep slumber fromwhich she did not wake until the sun was shining high, and the birds weresinging in the trees. The girl rose eagerly and looked out. She could see a wideexpanse of green lawn, with big shaded trees here and there. On two sides of thehouse a common stretched away apparently to the confines of space. How far shewas from London Vera could not say. Certainly she had never been here before.She was still admiring the beauty of the landscape when there came a quiet knockat the door, and after the bolts were drawn Silva came in. He was, if possible,even more abjectly apologetic than on the previous evening.

"I am bound to intrude," he said. "You see, this house has only been takenfor a time, and the servants are absolutely in ignorance of your presence here.I merely came to show you where you could find all the requisites for yourbreakfast, and as to the rest, they are in this basket. Here is a spirit lamp,so that you can boil your own water. I am in great hopes that before evening Ishall be able to give you what is practically the freedom of the house. Do notthink too harshly of me."

Vera made no reply; she was only pleased to have the room to herself again,so that she could think the matter out. She ate her breakfast slowly, for timewas beginning to hang on her hands. Any action was better than sitting theredoing nothing. It was some time later when she crossed to the window, and lookedout. She saw three men busily engaged in some occupation on the lawn. She sawSilva come out and address them, apparently in tones of expostulation, so far asshe could judge from his actions. Then one of the men looked up, and Vera couldsee that he had noticed her. A moment later the man stooped down, and wentthrough some sort of a pantomime, which, in the circumstances, puzzled Veraextremely. Why should that grave-looking official stoop down and imitate themotions of one who is stroking a dog?

CHAPTER XXXV.

MOTHER AND CHILD.

At any other time the trifling incident would have escaped Vera's attention.But she had nothing else to occupy her mind now. She wondered what it meant.There was no doubt that the official-looking person below was pretending tostroke a dog. There was no jest about it, either, because the other two men tookno heed. They appeared to be too absorbed in their occupation. Then, all atonce, the truth of it flashed into Vera's mind with a suddenness that left herpale and trembling. It was plain enough. She could not say for certain who itwas patting and caressing an imaginary dog, but she was quite certain that therewas a message to her behind it. In the first place the man had seen her at thewindow, of that she felt certain. And he was telling her as plainly as wordscould speak that her handkerchief had been found, and that Bruno led her friendsto the right spot. No doubt, these willing assistants had assumed the guise ofland surveyors with a view to getting a better knowledge of the house. Once theexcitement of this discovery passed away, Vera's courage came back to her. Shenow knew that she was safe. She knew that it would not be long before she wasrestored to her friends again. She deemed it prudent to keep away from thewindow, and when at length she looked down again, the men were gone.

There was nothing for it but to kill the dreary afternoon as best she could.It seemed to her that she knew every inch of her room, every design and patternon the wallpaper. She would have given much for a book to while away the time,but, apparently, Silva had overlooked that requirement. As she lay back in anarmchair, for the first time, a small, wooden trap in the ceiling attracted herattention. It seemed strange to Vera that she had not noticed it before. Asudden resolution possessed her. She balanced a couple of chairs, one on theother, upon the bed, and made an attempt to lift the trap. There was not theslightest trouble. The square of board gave to her touch at once. Vera thrusther head and shoulders through, and saw that she was immediately under the roof.A sliding glass window overhead lighted up the place, so that Vera could seewhat sort of a place she had discovered. Instantly she made up her mind what todo. She turned a yachting jersey out of one of the baskets and removed thebodice of her dress. A short serge skirt completed the outfit, and a few momentslater Vera had squeezed through the trap, and was walking along the boards whichcovered the whole area of the house under the roof. What she was now anxious tofind was a way down. Here was a large tank which supplied the house with water,and by the side of it a short iron ladder, the end of which was lost in thesemi-darkness. But Vera had discovered enough. Doubtless the iron ladder was apermanent structure for the use of workmen in case anything went wrong with thebig tank. In all probability the bottom of the iron ladder reached down until itjoined the servants' staircase. Vera had seen arrangements of this kind in smallcountry houses before.

At any rate, the knowledge was worth having. Here was a clear avenue ofescape. As soon as the house was quiet Vera would be able to steal away, andonce outside, she would know exactly what to do. She had no money, but that wasa mere detail.

The slow hours crept on till dusk began to fall, and there had been nofurther sign from Silva. The clocks outside were striking eight when someonetapped at the door, and in response to Vera's query the voice of Silva spoke:

"We are dining in half an hour," he said. "Will you be so good as to comedown? I have unfastened the door."

Vera was trembling with excitement and apprehension. She hastened to changeher dress, and a few moments later was hurrying down the stairs. When shereached the hall she found Silva awaiting her. He looked somewhat anxious.

"Your mother is in the drawing-room," he said "I hope you won't mind sittingdown to a cold dinner. For motives of prudence we have sent the servants toLondon for an evening at the theatre. To anyone as intelligent as yourself youwill see why we adopted such a course. Will you precede me?"

Vera had nothing to reply. Just for the moment she was incapable of speech.She was wondering whether or not she would awake presently and find it all nomore than a dream. The drawing-room was brilliantly lighted. A tall, dark womanstood by the fireplace. Her regular features appeared to be absolutely composed;but agitated though Vera was, she did not fail to notice the restless movementsof the hands. Just for a few moments the two looked at one another. Thensomething like a smile came over the Countess Flavio's face.

"So you are my daughter," she said. "I am afraid I should not have recognisedyou. Come closer, so that I can look at your face. Thank Heaven, you are not inthe least like your father. I cannot be sufficiently thankful for that."

"I have thought about you often," Vera said coldly; "but, surely, if you aremy mother, you have a strange way of making yourself known to me. What is themeaning of this outrage? Surely you could have come to Park Lane and asked forme in the ordinary way, without sending this creature of yours----"

"I am glad that man has had the decency to leave us alone," she went on. "Oh,I have been thinking about this meeting all day. I do not know what to imagine,or what to believe. You say that you are my mother, but how I am to be certainthat----"

"I swear it," the Countess said, with a touch of passion in her voice. "Youare my daughter beyond the shadow of a doubt. Oh, there is a deal in what yousay, but I could not come to Lord Ravenspur's house. There are most urgentreasons. You are wondering, perhaps, why I have not been near you all theseyears; but I can explain. You remember nothing of your father, for which you canthank your Maker. With the solitary exception of yourself, there was not acreature on earth that he cared for. He was the embodiment of refined cruelty.His greatest delight was in the tortured degradation of others. Ah, you littleguess what a veritable hell the two years which followed your birth were. I willtell you all about that some day, and you will be sorry for me. If you had onlyhad my experience you would not wonder why I fled and hid myself when my releasecame. You would not wonder why I refused to see you, for fear you should be likeyour father, and remind me of him every hour. I was so near the borderland ofinsanity then that I should have killed you, if by one look or gesture you hadreminded me of the man who had ruined my life. And then, when the lapse of yearshad restored my strength and vigor again, a longing to see you took possessionof me. And when at length I had found you, or, rather, my faithful servant,Silva, had found you for me, there were certain circumstances which prevented myseeking you out at once. I was going to wait my time, but the man whom you callyour guardian took such steps that I was bound to act at once. That is why Iwrote you that letter last night. That is why you were brought here. And as toLord Ravenspur, if he is lucky----"

The Countess paused and bit her lips. A horrible suspicion flashed intoVera's mind.

"You must say nothing against him," she cried. "Lord Ravenspur is one of thebest and noblest of men."

"Lord Ravenspur is a scoundrel," the Countess cried. "Yes, and before I havefinished I am going to prove it to you. Oh, you may look incredulous, but I am adeeply injured woman, and that man is responsible for all my torture."

A crimson wave stained Vera's cheeks. Here was the old suspicion back againwith redoubled force. She would have asked the direct question which wastrembling on her lips, but the door opened, and Silva came in hurriedly.

"I am loth to intrude," he said, "but it is already half-past eight, and itis imperative that you, madam, should be back in London this evening. There is atrain at twenty minutes past nine, which you must not fail to catch."

Without argument, the Countess led the way across to the dining-room, wheredinner was laid out. Vera noted with some surprise that there were only coversfor two. She had half expected that Silva would sit down to table, instead ofwhich he moved from place to place, waiting upon them, as if he had beenaccustomed to that kind of thing all his life. A few moments ago he had appearedto be the dictator and leader in everything. Now he suddenly lapsed into aperfectly respectful and exceedingly well-trained servant. It was not that Silvawas acting a part. The thing was so perfectly done that Vera saw at once thatthis was the man's proper position in life. She was too excited to eat or drink,so that, altogether, the meal was little more than a mere formality.

"I am sorry that I can't stay any longer," the Countess said; "I am bound tobe in London this evening."

"No," Silva burst out sternly. "The thing is impossible. For the present youstay where you are. In a day or two we will make other arrangements with theservants, and then you can have the freedom of the house. The Countess will tellyou that I am right."

"I am afraid so," the Countess said, "unless you will give me your word thatyou will not communicate with Lord Ravenspur. You must be dead as far as he andhis household are concerned."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.

"I cannot do it," Vera said quietly. "Forgive me if my words hurt you, but sofar I have no evidence to prove that you are anything more than a mere impostor.You claim to be my mother, and perhaps you are. But till tonight I had nomother. For eighteen years Lord Ravenspur has been more than a father to me. Ifyou can give me any satisfactory explanation of this plot against my safety----"

"Be silent!" Silva cried furiously. "I beg your pardon, madam, but I amforgetting myself. I will venture to remind you that your train will not wait."

"That is quite sufficient," Vera said, with dignity. "I will return to myroom again. Perhaps the next time I see you, you will have more time for anexplanation."

The girl turned and left the room. She walked slowly and sadly up the stairs,and locked herself in. It was not long before she heard the click of thefastening outside. She knew that she was a prisoner once more. It was out of thequestion to try and realise the meaning of all this extraordinary mystery. Therewas a certain sense of comfort in the knowledge that she was safe from personalviolence. But, beyond this, there was little to light up the dreary prospect.Vera sat there thinking the matter over till the clock struck eleven. Then sheglanced up at the ceiling, and stared at the trap-door long and thoughtfully.

She could not hear a sound in the house. Doubtless Silva had retired longago. Perhaps he was asleep by this time. As to the servants, they were probablynot returning till an early hour in the morning. Vera calculated that the housewas sufficiently far from London to make a return after the theatre impossible.She was going to risk it. If Silva caught her attempting to escape she couldonly return to her room again. She changed her dress rapidly. In the pocket ofher skirt she placed a a box of matches and a night-light, which she found onthe dressing-table. To get through the trap was a matter of a moment. With theaid of a match she found the top of the iron ladder, and when she had letherself down she came at length, as she had expected, to the top of theservants' staircase. The house was absolutely quiet, and plunged in darkness.Vera scarcely dared to breathe, till, at length, she found herself in the hall.It was tense and nervous work, and the girl was trembling from head to foot. Shehardly dared to touch the bolts. She drew them back a fraction at a time. Thenshe slid off the chain; the links clicked together with a noise that sounded inthe girl's ears almost like a pistol shot. She turned the handle hurriedly. Onemoment more, and she would be in the garden.

The disappointment was swift and cruel. The door was locked, and the key wasnot there. Evidently this was no way of escape. After the first feeling ofdespair Vera shot the bolts back, and put up the chain once more. It was no usetrying the back door, for that would probably be locked, and the key gone. Theonly possible exit was by way of one of the windows on the ground floor. Buthere again Vera was doomed to disappointment, for every door was fastened andevery key had vanished.

Vera blew out her night-light, and crept softly up the stairs again. Shewondered if it were possible to open one of the bedroom windows and leap to theground. Trembling in every limb she groped her way into one of the rooms, thedoor of which was open. Once more she ventured to strike a light. The room shewas in was furnished like a study. Here was a large table with paper and pensand ink. The walls were lined with books. A strong current of air came in fromsomewhere; then Vera realised that one of the windows was open. There was abalcony beyond, and on to this she stepped, trying to measure with her eye thedistance to the ground. But it was too dark for that. The risk was too great totake. It was like standing on the edge of a precipice. Vera drew back with ashudder. She really had not the courage for such a desperate venture. It wouldbe far better for her to remain where she was until her friends came to herassistance.

With this thought uppermost in her mind Vera turned back to the room again. Asudden gust of air from the open window extinguished the night-light. It wasjust as well, for almost at the same instant another door opened on the landing,and a shaft of brilliant light shot out. In its rays Vera could see Silva andanother man who was a stranger to her. Silva appeared to be in high goodspirits. He was chatting gaily to his companion.

"Now you know exactly what I want," he said. "You are to wait by the gatetill two o'clock if necessary, and when those people come along, you are to giveme the signal. If they don't come by two o'clock, then we can conclude thatsomething has interfered with their plans, and the thing has been postponed."

"I'll see that you do," Silva went on. "I suppose those fools thought theydeceived me this morning. It was just as well that I followed them. Well, ifthey like to come here, they will be pretty sure of a welcome. And now I willjust come and let you out, and fasten the door behind you. It will be fun to sithere watching till they are overhead, and then I shall have them in a fine trap.I am looking forward to it with the greatest possible pleasure. Then you hadbetter meet me in London tomorrow, and I will give you the money I promised. Ah,my good Stevens, this is the best week's work you ever did in your life. A fewmore such jobs and you will be able to retire from your honorable profession."

The man addressed as Stevens smiled sourly. Vera made a note of the name; shealso made a note of the man's features. Then, as the two of them went down intothe hall, she slipped back to her own room again by means of the iron ladder.Her breath was coming thick and fast, but her courage had returned, and she feltbraced up and ready to meet any emergency.

It was quite clear to her what was happening. As far as she herself wasconcerned, she was practically a prisoner. She could not get away even if shewished to. And now she had no desire to leave. Her instincts had been quitecorrect. Beyond all question the men on the lawn in the earlier part of the dayhad been her own friends. The dog had guided them here, and even at that momentthey were probably on their way to effect a rescue.

But they had not been quite clever enough for Silva. He had been toosuspicious to let an incident like that pass. He had appeared to bow to theinevitable, but, all the same, he had followed his unwelcome visitors, andprobably discovered their secret. And the worst of it was, Silva was now quiteprepared for the intruders. It was impossible, too, for Vera to warn herfriends. She racked her brains for some way of giving them a signal. There wasonly one desperate step to take, and she decided to risk it. Back once more shewent until she came at length to the landing on the first floor. Her idea was tofind out where Silva was hiding. There was a strong smell of cigarette smoke inthe house, which appeared to come from the ground floor. There was only onething for it, and that was to descend to the hall. Under the morning-room doorthere was just a thin slit of light. It was here that the smell of cigarettesmoke was the strongest. It was here, no doubt, that Silva was waiting for thefray. So far as Vera could judge the morning-room was on one side of the house,so that in all probability the light would not be seen, or perhaps there weresome heavy curtains or drapery over the window. From his own lips Vera knewsomething of what Silva's plans were. He was going to wait there till he had hisenemies trapped overhead. He probably would not move till the critical momentcame.

It was a desperate idea, but there was nothing else for it. Vera crept up tothe little sitting-room, and hastily dashed off a few words of warning which shehoped might fall into Walter's hands. She did not doubt for a moment that hewould be one of the rescuers. It seemed to her that if she placed the note onthe little table with the night-light behind it, and left the door open, itwould be bound to attract Walter's attention. Then he would be prepared for theattack from below. There was practically no chance of Silva coming upstairs inthe meantime, so that there was no reason why the little plot should fail. Itwas done at length, and then Vera again crept up the iron ladder to the side ofthe tank. But she did not return to her room. She knew that she was perfectlysafe where she was. And, besides, at any moment her assistance might be of thegreatest value. She stood there in the pitchy darkness, the leaden momentscreeping on like so many hours.

Her ears were strained to catch the slightest sound; even the trickle of awater-tap sounded like pistol shots. A mouse behind the wainscot appeared to bemaking noise enough to wake the dead. Then, above the creeping silence, came aquick snap, which was like the breaking of wood. Vera's heart gave a great leap.It seemed to her that the attack was commencing in earnest.

A minute or two later and she fancied she could hear footsteps in the hall.But this she dismissed as mere fancy. She could hear the trees rustling outsideas they swayed to a sudden breeze. She hoped the wind would not be strong enoughto blow out her night-light. She wished now that she had closed the window. Thenshe jumped with a nervous start as a door banged like the thud of artillery. Sheheard a quick, sharp cry, and then the laboured breathing as if two men werelocked in a struggle to the death.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

Outside in the garden, under cover of the darkness, Ravenspur and hiscompanion waited anxiously for a sign from Walter. The minutes crept slowly on.Still there was nothing to break the silence. A quarter of an hour passed, andat length Ravenspur began to feel decidedly anxious.

"I don't like it," he murmured; "I don't like it a bit. We have anexceedingly cunning scoundrel to deal with, and a bloodthirsty one into thebargain. That man would not stick at anything. I can't understand how it is thatWalter doesn't open the door."

Venables made no reply. As a matter of fact, he was not a whit less anxiousthan Ravenspur. Still the minutes crept on, and still there was no sign from theinterior of the house. Then at last came a faint, dull report, which mighteither have been the closing of a door, or the muffled echo of a pistol shot.Before Venables could reply he felt something damp and cold against his hand.His nerves were now at high tension. He jumped quickly back, and looked down. Agreat hound stood there waving his long tail from side to side and looking upinto Ravenspur's face as if not altogether sure as to his presence beingwelcome.

"Call him off," Venables said excitedly. "The brute is dangerous. By Jove,what a fool I am! I thought at first that this was one of our friend Valdo'sbodyguard, but I see now that it is your dog, Lord Ravenspur. I suppose he hasmanaged to get away again."

"Oh, it's Bruno right enough," Ravenspur said. "Probably Perks fastened himup insecurely. But he must not be allowed to roam about here. Do you happen tohave a dog collar and chain in your pocket, Perks? If so, I'll go and chain himup to one of those trees by the side of the lane."

Perks grinned, and produced the necessary collar and lead. In the course ofhis business he rarely travelled without one of these, though he lookeddubiously at the leather strap, and opined that is was not much good for sogreat a beast as Bruno.

"I think that will be all right," Lord Ravenspur said. "The dog is welltrained, and if I tell him to stop there I am sure he will. At any rate, I don'tsuppose he will move until we have this business finished. Now, come along,sir."

The great beast trotted along, more or less dejectedly, by his master's side,and a moment or two later he was lying at the foot of a small tree just by thegate leading to the lane. Ravenspur hurried back to his companions. He had hopedby this time that something had happened. He was seriously alarmed to find thehouse still in darkness, and no sign of Walter anywhere.

"This is very disturbing," he said. "Don't you think one of you had better goinside and see what has become of my nephew? If that man there has done him anyviolence----"

"I don't think so," Venables interrupted. "After all, the man we are lookingfor is no fool, and he would most assuredly avoid violence if possible. My dearLord Ravenspur, you surely did not expect to find Miss Rayne by simply openingthe door and going through the house? For my part, I regard this business asonly just beginning, and I shall be very much surprised if Miss Rayne is in thehouse at all. Besides, this man Valdo is certain to be prepared for emergenciesof this kind. Suppose he found Walter, and asked him what he was doing there?Suppose he insisted upon showing him all over the house? We will assume that hehas proved to Lance that Miss Rayne is not there. He would enjoy that immensely.It would give him far more pleasure than any personal violence. And besides,Walter is quite capable of taking care of himself. Really, we must risk it alittle longer. Any undue haste now would ruin our plans."

Sorely against his convictions Ravenspur allowed the point to pass. A quarterof an hour had elapsed now, and there was no sign of Walter. Ravenspur was aboutto speak again when suddenly from the lane came something in the way of adiversion. A man's voice was raised in terror, a frightened scream for help rentthe air. As the cry died away, a deep growl of the dog was heard. Without amoment's hesitation Ravenspur rushed away down the garden and in the directionof the lane.

"There's no time to be lost," he cried. "Come along. Unless I am greatlymistaken, Bruno has got hold of some unfortunate wayfarer on his way home."

It turned out to be exactly as Lord Ravenspur had prophesied. When Perks cameup, and turned his lantern on the scene, the outline of a man's body came intoview. The unfortunate individual was lying on his back, the great hound wasstanding over him, his crest erect, his formidable row of teeth glistening inthe light. At one word from lord Ravenspur the dog crouched down, and thestranger, trembling with fright in every limb, was dragged to his feet.Something like a chuckle burst from Perks' lips.

"I thought the brute was going to tear the throat out of me," the strangersaid. "I came down here on business----"

"What business?" Venables said curtly. "Here, Perks, hold that light a bithigher up so that I can see the fellow's face. Does he happen to be a friend ofyours?"

"We've done a bit of business together," Perks said significantly."Otherwise, he is not what I would call a friend of mine. He was over at myplace early this morning, but I thought he had gone back to town again. What areyou looking about here for, John?"

"That's my business," the other said sullenly. "The man who fastened that dogup there so close to the lane ought to have six months. I don't know who hebelongs to."

"He belongs to me," Lord Ravenspur explained. "There is one thing I willvouch for--if you hadn't been coming into the garden, that dog would never havetouched you. It is no business of mine to ask what you are doing here, for Idon't suppose you would tell me if I did. However, it seems to me----"

"No; but I can tell you," Venables put in. "This, Lord Ravenspur, is the manJohn Stevens who gave evidence at the inquest on Louis Delahay. He was the manwho saw Mrs. Delahay with her husband in Fitzjohn Square that morning. He knowsValdo exceedingly well, and no doubt he is down here on the latter's business.If you ask him, he will hardly venture to deny it."

"Oh, yes, you do," Venables went on. "You will say presently that you havenever seen me before. You are a treacherous rascal, and evidently you are not inthe least to be relied upon. I told you that it would pay you to join me, and Isuppose your idea is to get money from both parties. This is no time to waste onincriminations. This man is a spy of Valdo's, Lord Ravenspur. Evidently he ishere to watch our movements. We can't trust him. We can't let him out of oursight. The question is, what are we going to do with him?"

"You just leave me alone or it will be the worse for you," Stevens blustered."I am not the man----"

Before Stevens could finish his speech he was jerked violently backwards byPerks, and turned over on his face. In less time than it takes to tell, hishands were bound behind his back with a couple of straps, and his feet werefastened together with the aid of some handkerchiefs which Perks borrowed fromhis companion. The thing was dexterously done, so that Stevens lay there on hisback, swearing hotly at Perks, and threatening him with what was likely tohappen when his time came.

"Oh, that's all right," Perks said cheerfully; "don't you be a fool, John. Itwill pay you much better to play the square game with these gentlemen, and as toyour threats, why, they don't worry me. You talk about splitting. Why, you darenot go within a mile of a police station. And a nice witness before magistratesyou would make. No, my lad; there is no chance of your doing me any harm unlessyou are prepared to stand in the dock by my side. Now, come along, and we'll getit over."

"Oh, that is an easy one," Perks grinned cheerfully. "We'll just carry him asfar as the common, and dump him down on a nice bed of bracken where he can passthe time studying astronomy. I haven't any fear that he can get rid of thesebandages. When everything is settled, I'll come back and fetch him. Then I cantake him home, and give him some breakfast. He won't bear any malice. That is avery good point about John Stevens: he never bears malice for long. As a matterof fact, he ain't got pluck enough."

Stevens was dumped unceremoniously down upon the bracken, and the littleparty went back to the house. Lord Ravenspur had forgotten all about Walter forthe moment. His mind had reverted to the murder in Fitzjohn Square. He wasthinking of Delahay and certain fresh facts which had recently come to light. Heallowed Venables to precede him. Then he drew Perks aside for a moment.

"I am going to ask you a question," he said, "and I hope you will answer itstraightforwardly. I will see that no harm comes to you. And, indeed, in anycase it will be to your advantage to be candid. Have you had any dealings latelywith this man Stevens? You know what I mean. Have you bought anything from himfor which you paid without asking any questions?"

"Only this very morning, sir," Perks admitted cheerfully. "To tell you thetruth, that little thing what you gave me a sovereign for was amongst the lot.And now I have said it. I am a fool to tell you this, but you gave me your word,sir----"

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

IN THE HOUSE.

Meanwhile, Walter was standing there in pitch darkness, utterly at a losswhat to do next. He had no light to guide him. He had not the remotest idea inwhich direction the door lay. He took a step or two forward, with outstretchedhands, until his fingers touched the wall. There were so many unfamiliar objectshere that it was some little time before he felt his way with his finger-tips tothe door. He found it at length, and the knob yielded to his touch. No soonerwas he in the corridor than a dazzling flash confused and mystified him. Beforehe could realise what had happened the light was gone, and a pair of strong,sinewy arms were about his neck. He was taken utterly at a disadvantage. Walterswayed backwards. He fell with a resounding crash on the floor. A million starsdanced before his eyes, and then he remembered no more.

When he came to himself again he was lying in an armchair, to which he wasfastened by a maze of cords, wound cunningly about him. As his head became clearand less confused, he realised that he was in a kind of library, the walls ofwhich were lined with books. Opposite him Silva was seated, with a placid smileupon his face.

"I have had that advantage," Walter said grimly. "And now you will, perhaps,be good enough to explain what you mean----"

"No," Silva hissed. A sudden anger flamed out of his eyes. "On the otherhand, the explanation comes from you. For the time being, at any rate, thishouse is mine. I have paid for it, and I propose to spend my time quietly herefor the next month or two. I am hardly settled down here before you come alongin this unceremonious fashion and burgle the place. Why?"

"That you know quite as well as I do," Walter retorted. "Really, you are aman of amazing audacity. Now don't you know that the law punishes peopleseverely for this kind of thing?"

"Why should you assume ignorance in that way? You know perfectly well what Imean. To my certain knowledge you have made three attempts on the life of LordRavenspur, and even that does not seem to be sufficient. Last night you managedto lure Miss Vera Rayne away from London, and she is in this house at thepresent moment. That she is detained here against her will I feel certain."

"Oh, indeed," Silva sneered. "Would you like to search the house? If I giveyou permission to go over the premises, will you be prepared to apologise and goaway without further delay?"

A cold chill crept up Walter's spine. The man spoke with such an air ofconfidence and triumph that Walter began to feel that the mission had failed.Beyond all question, Silva had discovered the plot, and already he had managedto get Vera out of the way. The Italian could not be acting. His air was tooassured for that.

"We need not say anything about apologies," Walter said; "but if you canprove to me that Miss Rayne is not in the house, why, then, for the present, atany rate, I will not trouble you."

"That is very good of you," Silva sneered. He rose from his chair and pacedup and down the room. "You have seen quite enough of me, sir, to give me creditfor not being altogether a fool. That was a very pretty scheme which you put upthis morning. And, really, your disguises were quite artistic. I will go so faras to say that, in ordinary circumstances, they would have utterly puzzled me;but, then, I am suspicious by nature. I regard it as more than a coincidencethat three strangers should come into my garden the very morning after Ihad----"

"Abducted Miss Rayne," Walter said, as Silva hesitated. "Why make any bonesabout it? We know that Miss Rayne came here. We, on our side, are not altogetherwithout intelligence."

"You are worthy antagonists," Silva said, with a sarcastic bow. "We willassume, for the sake of argument, that Miss Rayne was here this morning, though,mark you, I do not admit it. Then, three strangers come and make free with mygarden. It is possible, of course, that they are telling the truth, and thatthey are honest men, devoted to the interests of their country. But, at the sametime, I asked myself a question. Then I followed these gentlemen, and by thetime I returned home I had a pretty shrewd idea who they were and what they wereafter. How my suspicions are justified is proved by your presence here thisevening. Did you come alone?"

The Italian's features suddenly darkened. He paused so close to Walter thatthe latter could see the dilation of the pupils of his eyes. He shook with aspasm of fury.

"I have no quarrel with you," he whispered hoarsely. "You are a fine fellow,and I give you all the credit for your courage. But if you persist in bringingyourself within the sphere of danger, then you must take the consequences. Doyou suppose for a moment that I am afraid of my own life? Do you suppose that Icare what happens when my mission is accomplished? That mission is sacred to meas your good name and religion are sacred to you. A man is to be removed, andwhen he is out of the way my task is done. There is a proverb amongst youEnglish that it is as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and no man can hangmore than once, though he has a dozen murders to his account. Therefore, if youstand in the way, I shall have no hesitation in sweeping you aside. Now go awayand trouble me no more. You will never see Miss Rayne again. In a few hours fromnow she will be in the custody of the proper person to safeguard herinterests--her mother."

"I am going to give you every opportunity," Silva went on. "I trust to yourhonour. See here."

He whipped a knife from his pocket, and just for a second Walter's couragewas tried high; but the Italian meant no harm. He advanced and cut the cords, sothat a moment later Walter was free. It was impossible for the latter to knowwhat was going on in the mind of his companion. He did not know that a suddeninspiration had come to Silva, and that the Italian had changed his mind. Forthe first few minutes Valdo had recognised that he stood in a position ofconsiderable peril. Though he had suspected his visitors of the early morning,he was lying to Walter when he declared that he had discovered their identity.It was easy to be wise after the fact, and Silva was taking every advantage ofit. In his heart of hearts he really had not expected anything quite so promptas this. He could now see his danger. If Walter was alone, then so far so good;but if there were others outside the house, then Silva was more or less in atrap. The others might rush in at any moment and hand him over to the police.Once in their hands, his fate was certain. He would be charged with thoseattempts on the life of Lord Ravenspur. In all probability he would be sentencedto a term of imprisonment, which would result in his death within the walls of agaol.

But now, as time was going on, and there was no sign of disturbance outside,Silva began to feel that he had only one man to deal with. It would not be adifficult matter to persuade Walter and to prove to him that Vera was no longerin the house, and the cunning Italian knew perfectly well that his skin was safeuntil Lord Ravenspur and the others were satisfied that the girl had come to noharm.

"We are on even terms again now," Silva went on. "In fact, the odds are inyour favour. I am not armed, and you are a stronger man than myself. If you willwait a few moments I will go and get a candle, and then you shall see foryourself that Miss Rayne is not in the house."

"I am sorry," Walter said coldly; "but I should prefer to accompany you. Yourword is hardly sufficient."

Silva's eyes flashed, but he said nothing. The silence was getting awkwardwhen, at length, the Italian spoke once more.

"There is a candle outside on the landing," he said. "I will go and fetch it.You will be able to see me all the way there and back. You English aresuspicious."

Silva threw the door wide open and strode out into the corridor. As he strucka match and lighted the candle, Walter could dimly see up the next flight ofstairs. It was only for a moment, but he distinctly saw the outline of a figurethere, and a signal made by the waving of a white arm. It was with difficultythat he repressed a cry. He now knew that the Italian had been lying to him, andthat Vera was in the house. When he glanced up again the figure had vanished,and Walter dropped into the easy chair again. It seemed to him that there wassomething in the signal which bade him to be cautious. Otherwise, what was toprevent Vera coming down the stairs and appealing to Walter for his protection?

Silva was, apparently, a long time getting the candle to burn to hissatisfaction. He seemed to be occupied in his task to the exclusion ofeverything else. But there was a queer smile upon his face, for he had turned inan unfortunate moment, and his quick eye had detected the figure at the top ofthe stairs. In those few seconds he had made up his mind what to do. When hecame back into the library again there was something like a smile on his face.He placed the candle on the table.

"And now, sir," he said almost gaily, "before I proceed to satisfy you thatyour suspicions are unfounded, permit me to offer you my hospitality. I don'tknow how you feel, but you look rather shaken, and I must apologise for the wayin which I threw you a little time ago; but you see, the average burglar is byno means a welcome guest, and he has no right to expect to be received with openarms. I must insist upon your accompanying me as far as the dining-room, so thatI may give you a glass of wine."

Walter hesitated, but only for a moment. He was feeling more shaken andbattered than he cared to own. Every now and again things grew misty before hiseyes, a feeling of deadly faintness came upon him. It seemed hours since heentered the house, though little more than ten minutes had elapsed. He knew,too, that he had a great fight before him yet with this wily unscrupulousrascal. Silva must have some great card up his sleeve, or he would not have sogaily denied that Vera was in the house, when all the time she was close athand. On the whole, Walter decided that he would be all the better for acceptingSilva's offer.

"That is very thoughtful of you," he said. "I shall be very glad of astimulant of some kind."

Once in the dining-room, Silva took a decanter from the sideboard and pouredout a glass of port. Walter took it almost greedily and gulped it down at adraught. The wine seemed to soothe him. He sank down in a chair with his handsover his eyes, and, before he knew where he was, he had sunk into a deep sleep.As Silva bent over the unconscious body a hoarse laugh broke from his lips. Thensomething seemed to sting and burn his cheek. He started back, to see Verastanding before him.

In her anger she cast all fear aside. She caught up a heavy decanter from thesideboard and sent it crashing through the window. The whole house rang with hercries for assistance.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE HOUND AGAIN.

The clamour ceased. Just for a moment an intense silence followed. Then therecame the murmur of voices from without and the crash of splintering wood. Silvacursed himself for his folly. He had been so convinced that Walter had comealone that he had not looked for this. There was no time to be lost. Silvacaught Vera as if she had been a feather-weight, and ran with her swiftly up thestairs. It was the work of a moment to unlock a door, thrust her inside, andthen fasten the door once more. No sooner was this done than Silva wasdownstairs again, with his hand on the lock of the back entrance of the house.All this time he could hear the steady splintering of wood as an effort wasbeing made to force one of the drawing-room windows. Silva smiled to himself,for here was the delay which was so essential to him. Once the attackers were inthe drawing-room, there would yet be another door to force before they were uponhim. He wished with all his heart that he had his revolver with him. But, then,he had not expected so swift a vengeance as this, and he had come down from townwithout any weapon at all. Still, it was idle to waste time in these regrets,seeing that there was other and stern work before him.

The back entrance of the house was opened at last, and Silva sped back to thedining-room. He half dragged, half carried Walter's unconscious body down thegarden path, until he reached a bed of asparagus, where he deposited his burden.Panting with his exertions, he came back again to the house. He wiped the beadsof perspiration from his face. He reached eagerly for a glass of wine, but notfrom the same decanter from which he had helped Walter. Then he sat down coollyenough to smoke a cigarette till the enemy should put in an appearance. Asuccession of sounds like pistol shots testified to the attack on thedrawing-room door, and a moment later the attacking force burst into thedining-room.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Silva said, with a smile. "But why have younot come in the ordinary way? And now, perhaps, you will be good enough to tellme what you are after?"

"You are wasting our time," Lord Ravenspur said sternly. "We are in search ofMiss Vera Rayne, as you know perfectly well. There is not the slightest occasionto lie about it, because I heard her voice just now. Take us to her at once."

"Your lordship's hearing is remarkably good," Silva sneered; "but the screamof one angry woman is so like that of another that I am not prepared to agreewith your statement. However, as I appear to be only one to three of you, Isuppose you will have your own way and search the house."

"Then I will make no attempt to stop you. I will stay here while you makeyour search, and perhaps when you have found out that you are mistaken you willapologise to me."

The speaker was perfectly cool and self possessed. With a wave of his hand heintimated that the house was quite at the disposal of the intruders. He satthere with his legs crossed, apparently in the enjoyment of a cigarette; butwhen once the party had scattered his attitude changed entirely. He dartedacross the hall and out into the garden. His task was not yet finished. Therewas a deal to do before he could face his enemies again. He was not a bitdowncast, though his plot had partially failed, and though he knew now thatbefore long Vera Rayne would be in the hands of her friends again. All hethirsted for now was a weapon by which he could take the vengeance for which hehad panted all these years. Slowly he dragged the unconscious body of his victimin the direction of the little gate leading to the lane.

Meanwhile, Ravenspur and his companions were scattered over the house.Ravenspur called Vera by name, and, to his great joy and relief, he heard heranswering cry from behind one of the bedroom doors. He was not surprised to findthe door locked. But that did not much matter now. Ravenspur flung himselfagainst the woodwork, and the door gave way with a crash. Then Vera rushed outand threw herself, sobbing hysterically, into his arms.

"Why, Walter, of course," Vera went on. "I believe that dreadful man poisonedhim. He lured Walter into the dining-room and gave him a glass of wine, and whenI got there, he . . . Oh, it was too dreadful! Then I broke the window andscreamed for assistance, and you came in."

Ravenspur listened uneasily. In the excitement of the moment he had forgottenall about Walter.

"Try and calm yourself," he said. "So much depends upon you now. Tell me allthat happened."

"I came down with that man last night," Vera said. "He brought me a letterfrom my mother. I wanted to come, and I didn't want to come. I think you will beable to understand my feelings. Then two of them drugged me and carried me downhere. It has been a dreadful time. I began to hope this morning, when I saw youin the garden, and Walter gave me a kind of sign. I felt quite sure then thatyou were not far off, and the knowledge gave me courage. I was locked up in aroom at the top of the house, but I managed to escape through a trap-door, and Iwas actually on the landing in the darkness when Walter came. He was takenutterly by surprise by this man Silva, and I am sure that he was terriblyknocked about and shaken by a fall that he had had. Then I managed to let Walterknow that I was in the house. It was a daring thing to do, and Silva must haveseen it, though I did not think so at the moment. After that he got Walterdownstairs, under pretence of giving him a glass of wine, and then he poisonedhim. Oh, I am so distracted that I hardly know what I am speaking about. It isdreadful to think----"

"I am quite sure you are mistaken," Ravenspur said. "This man Silva has noquarrel with Walter, and when we come to get at the truth you will find thatthere is no greater mischief than a comparatively harmless drug. But where isWalter? Drugged or not, he certainly was not in the dining-room when we gotthere just now."

"But he must be," Vera protested. "I saw him lying in an armchair, to allappearances dead."

Ravenspur wasted no time in further argument. He went straight back to thedining-room, but no signs of Walter were to be seen. Silva had disappeared also.A strong draught was blowing from the open back door. Ravenspur began tounderstand pretty well what had taken place. He turned eagerly to Vera.

"Come along with me," he exclaimed. "We are going into the garden. I shallnot be in the least surprised to find that Silva has dragged Walter out there.He would have had plenty of time when we were breaking into the house. Iunderstand he is a man of considerable personal strength. Depend upon it, weshall find him somewhere here. Don't be discouraged."

Vera was doing her best to keep from breaking down altogether. There wassomething peculiarly horrible in the suggestion that her lover's body was lyingout there stark and stiff in the darkness. The fresh breeze blew gratefully onher face. She began to feel a little more like herself again.

"We will get Perks here with his lantern presently," Lord Ravenspur said."Keep as near to the path as possible. If that fellow happens to have a knifeand sees me here, why----"

It was Lord Ravenspur's turn to shudder now, but he kept bravely on. Heopened his mouth to speak again, when, suddenly a snarling roar like that of anangry lion broke out, followed by the shrill scream of a human voice, calling inthe last extremity of agony. At the dreadful sound, Vera stood still.

"It is Bruno," Lord Ravenspur said hoarsely. "The dog is utterly out ofcontrol. He has got hold of that Italian to a certainty. There may be time tosave his life yet."

CHAPTER XL.

BROKEN WINGS.

The hoarse yell for assistance rose yet again, this time more feeble thanbefore. It was horrible to stand there in the darkness, looking helplesslyaround and trying to locate the direction from which the call came. It washorrible, too, to listen to the mumbling and snarling of the dog, just as if hewere worrying a bone. Vera clung terrified to Lord Ravenspur. It was in vainthat the latter whistled and called to the dog.

"We must have a light here," he said hoarsely. "There is no other way ofdiscovering where the trouble lies. Fool that I was not to think of it before.That man, Perks, has a lantern."

Ravenspur strode back to the house again, and yelled aloud for Perks and hislantern.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," Ravenspur said grimly. "For heaven's sake,bring Perks here with the lantern. Unless I am greatly mistaken, our troublesare over as far as the Italian is concerned. Bruno has got hold of him."

They all raced together down the garden path in the direction of the gate.There was no mistaking where the trouble lay, for that mumbling snarl was closeat hand now. It seemed to proceed from the foot of a tree. Even Perks, hardenedas he was, shuddered and turned pale as the shining disc of the lantern showed apicture so horrible and revolting that Perks staggered back.

"Take the young lady away sir," he said. "This is no place for her. You goback to the house, and leave Lord Ravenspur to carry this poor chap back again.We can't tackle the dog unless there is someone here who knows him."

One glance at the prostrate body, and Venables turned away without furtherquestion. Obviously Perks was right, and assuredly it was no place for Vera.Silva lay there on the broad of his back, his arms thrown out, and crouched uponhis body was the enormous weight of the dog. The pressure in itself was enoughto cause suffocation. But the mischief lay in the terrible gash in the throatwhere the hound's teeth had met. Bruno crouched there now with evil, bloodshoteyes; a long, deep terrifying growl came steadily and persistently. Perks drewcautiously near.

"Well, if this doesn't beat everything," he said. "Why, there are two bodies.One of them is Mr. Lance."

"That is the cause of all the mischief, as you will see presently," Ravenspurexplained. "Never mind about my nephew for a moment. Unless I am greatlymistaken, there is very little the matter with him. But this poor fellow is in adifferent condition altogether."

As he spoke, Ravenspur stepped forward, and gave Bruno a tremendous blow witha stick which he had pulled from the hedge-side. At the same time he uttered afew words in a harsh tone, and immediately the dog slunk away and crossed theroad. His tail was between his legs now, his attitude one of deep dejection.

"I will deal with him presently," Ravenspur went on. "You take the head, andI'll take the feet, and we'll get this poor fellow back to the house again. Itis a terrible business altogether, but, mind you, that dog is not very much toblame. As far as I can make out, what has happened is this: Silva managed todrug my nephew, and was getting his body out of the way when he accidentallycame in contact with the dog. And if there is one human being more than anotherto whom Bruno is devoted, that person is my nephew. The dog would scent him atonce, and--well, the rest you can imagine."

They conveyed the unconscious body of Silva upstairs, and laid him on a bed.Once Walter had been brought under cover also, there was only one thing to bedone, and that was to send for a doctor without delay. It was obvious enough toRavenspur and his companions that Silva's wounds were exceedingly critical. Thethroat seemed to be almost bitten away. The man had lost a deal of blood. He laythere absolutely unconscious. His swarthy features were deadly pale. It wasimpossible to say whether he breathed or not.

"You leave the doctor to me," Perks said. "I know the neighbourhood. I can beback here well within the hour."

The doctor came at length. He shook his head seriously after he had made hisexamination.

"Oh, of course, recovery is possible," he said; "whilst there is life thereis always hope. But if this man pulls round it will be little less than amiracle. How did it happen?"

There was nothing for it but to explain. After all, it would be more or lessimpossible to avoid the scandal now. But nothing was said as to the real causeof the accident, nor did Ravenspur deem it prudent to ask the doctor's advice asto the best thing to do with Walter.

"That is quite possible," the doctor replied. "He has a splendidconstitution, and possibly may linger on for some days. He can take no directnourishment, of course. But medical science can do so much now-a-days in the wayof injections. I shouldn't be at all surprised if my patient were able to givean account of what has happened. But in all human probability, he will be in hisgrave before the week is out. And now, will you leave it to me to obtain anurse, or would you like to send one of your own?"

On the whole, it would be better to leave it to the doctor, Ravenspurthought. An hour or so passed, and the nurse was established in the sick-room.It was now getting towards daylight, but no one thought of rest or sleep. Therewas nothing for it but to make the best of the extraordinary situation; nothingfor it but to remain where they were and explain as well as they could to theservants when they came back in the morning. Vera flung herself down upon acouch in the drawing-room, and closed her eyes. She was tired and worn out,though it seemed to her that sleep was impossible. Nevertheless, when she cameto herself again the sunshine was streaming into the room, the birds weresinging noisily in the trees outside. On the lawn Ravenspur was walking up anddown in grave consultation with Venables. Presently Vera saw Walter join thegroup. He looked dreadfully white and haggard; his head was bent, and his stepwas shaky. A thrill of thankfulness passed over her. She had never hoped to seehim walk again. As Vera left the drawing-room and crossed the hall, amaidservant looked at her curiously. Vera advanced with a smile.

"I am afraid we have greatly distressed you," she said. "But perhaps youalready know exactly what has happened?"

"His lordship explained to me, miss," the girl said timidly. "I understandthat my new master is a friend of yours. You were coming down to see him, and agreat dog attacked him."

"Yes; that is so," Vera said, relieved to find that she had to make noprevarication. "And now, if you will be so good, you might show me to a bedroomwhere I can wash."

The maid seemed to anticipate such a request, for she led the way up thestairs to one of the bedrooms. Vera wondered what the maid would have said couldshe only have looked into the room at the top of the house under the roof.Feeling much fresher and brighter from the touch of cold water, Vera went downand joined the other two in the garden.

"I am glad to see you looking none the worse for your adventure," Ravenspursaid. "I have managed to convince the servants that our appearance here is quitenatural. One had to tell a few falsehoods, but in the circumstances it wasnecessary. Still, servants are suspicious creatures, and I don't want theircuriosity to go too far. Already they are wondering where the mistress of thehouse is, so that there is no help for it, and we must have your mother herewithout delay. Do you happen to know her London address?"

"Yes; she came here on purpose to see me. She only stayed a little time,because I understood that it was necessary for her to be back in London again.But I would rather not talk about that if you don't mind. You will quiteunderstand why."

"You are quite right, uncle," he said. "It is absolutely necessary that theCountess Flavio should be here at once. We can get her address from Mrs.Delahay. If you like I will go up myself."

"Oh, I'm all right now," Walter said, "with the exception of a certainshakiness and a splitting headache. It must have been a pretty severe dose thatour interesting friend gave me last night. But I don't think there is anyoccasion to worry about me."

"Then we will have some breakfast, and get up to London at once," Venablessaid, in his quick, decisive fashion. "We can leave Lord Ravenspur and MissRayne here till we come back. I don't think that Lord Ravenspur has anything tofear from his enemy now."

Breakfast was despatched without delay, and immediately Venables and Walterleft for London. The house was now quiet and still, for as yet practicallynothing was known as to the cause of Silva's action, and public curiosity stillslept.

It was some time after luncheon before Vera had a chance of speaking to thenurse, with an inquiry as to how the patient was getting on. The nurse smiled inreply.

"He is slightly better," she explained; "in fact, he is as well as he islikely to be. He has been conscious for the last half hour. He seems to wantsomething, only I can't understand what it is. We may be able to find out whenthe doctor comes."

CHAPTER XLI.

A RAY OF LIGHT.

It was no difficult matter to find Mrs. Delahay, who, when the late startlingdevelopments were laid before her, made no demur in giving her sister's address.Maria Delahay was looking just as pale and haggard as usual. It seemedimpossible to rouse her from the state of apathy into which she had fallen. Whenthe two friends were standing on the steps of the hotel they ran againstInspector Dallas.

"Well, no," Dallas admitted. "I am simply waiting on events at present. Ifyou could only get Mrs. Delahay to be more candid with me it might save her adeal of unpleasantness in the long run."

"I think you can see that for yourself, sir," Dallas replied. "Naturally, Iam hesitating as long as possible----"

"Then hesitate a little longer," Walter said. "Quite by accident LordRavenspur has stumbled upon a clue which I think will astonish you when you cometo know his story. We are going off now to a place called Cannon Green. We shallprobably be back by the last train tonight, and I want you to meet us atWaterloo Station. I think you will be well rewarded for your trouble."

Dallas promised, and, like the wise man he was, asked no questions. The twocompanions proceeded in a cab to Isleworth Road, where they asked to see themistress of the house. The maid who answered the door was somewhat reticent, butshe admitted that her mistress was at home, whereupon Walter and his companionentered without further ceremony. Perhaps their manner impressed the maid, forshe came back a moment later saying that her mistress would see the visitors.The Countess entered the drawing-room and glanced with cold displeasure at theintruders.

"Perhaps I had better explain," Walter began. "My name is Lance, and I am anephew of Lord Ravenspur. Lord Ravenspur has a ward who is called Miss VeraRayne. In other words, I understand that Miss Rayne is really your daughter."

"My dear madam," Walter said, "this is no time for diplomacy. Rightly orwrongly, my uncle came to Italy eighteen years ago and kidnapped your daughter.You see, I am quite candid, and I hope you will be good enough to be as candidin your replies. My uncle will himself explain why he took this bold step, but Iunderstand that your late husband did not consider you a desirable parent for achild, and he made my uncle promise to remove the child from your influence.Into the morality of that question I am not disposed to go. For nearly eighteenyears nothing happened, and my uncle began to regard Vera quite as his ownchild. Then the truth came out, and some emissary of yours came to England,prepared to go to any length to regain possession of your daughter. I need notsay I am alluding to the man called Silva, also known to many people as Valdo,the flying man. This servant of yours made no fewer than three attacks on myuncle's life, none of which, fortunately, was successful. And then, Iunderstand, you came on the scene. I believe you were instrumental in luringyour daughter from Lady Kingmar's the night before last, and getting herimprisoned at a place called Cannon Green. One moment, please. I would not denyit, if I were you----"

"I am not going to deny it," the Countess said in a hard, dry voice. "Thereis no occasion to."

"Ah, well, that being so, we shall get on all the better. Directly wediscovered what had happened we set off in pursuit, fortunately aided by abloodhound of my uncle's, who had followed us to Lady Ringmar's from Park Lane.To make a long story short, we broke into the house, and Miss Rayne is once moreunder the protection of Lord Ravenspur. But your man, Silva, does not lackresource, and he managed to drug me and drag me out into the garden.Unfortunately for him, the dog was prowling about, and, knowing me andrecognising my peril, he made a furious attack upon Silva, with the result thatyour friend lies in a critical condition and is not expected to live. After whatI have told you, I think you will see the necessity of coming down to CannonGreen with us without delay."

During this recital the Countess made no sign. She listened with a calmnessand unconcern which moved Walter to anger. After all, whatever Silva's faultsmight have been, his devotion to his mistress left nothing to be desired. TheCountess sat thoughtfully for a few moments before she replied.

"I think I see what you mean," she said presently. "You want as far aspossible to avoid a scandal?"

"Well, naturally," Walter said warmly. "In your daughter's interests it isyour duty to assist us. If you fall in line with this idea, the general publicwill be none the wiser. And when you come to know what manner of man it is thatyour servant has been attempting to murder in absolutely cold blood----"

"Oh, I know what manner of man he is," the Countess cried. "He is the samemanner of man as my husband. And a more cold-blooded scoundrel never drew thebreath of life. But make no mistake about one thing--I was a party to noviolence. All I wanted was to have my child back again, and I hoped that whenonce this was done, I should be able to induce Silva to forego the vengeancewhich to him was a part of his religion. You will understand presently why Ihave appeared to act so strangely. Not but what Lord Ravenspur deserved whateverfate he got at the hands of Silva. Still, we are wasting time in talking likethis. I am ready to come with you to Cannon Green at once, more especiallybecause you are right in saying that it is my duty to try and avoid anything inthe shape of a scandal. If you will give me five minutes and call a cab, I amabsolutely at your service."

It was a little before five when this strangely assorted group reached CannonGreen. The doctor was just coming away, and Walter asked eagerly after thepatient.

"Oh, practically he is no better," the medical man explained. "I mean, heisn't going to get well. Just for the present he is buoyed up with a strongstimulant, and is in full possession of his faculties. He seems to wantsomething, but I can't make out what it is. We gave him a sheet of paper and apencil just now, and he scribbled a word or two, which, being Italian, we couldnot make out."

"I think I know what he wants," Walter said. "May I suggest, Countess, thatyou go up to the poor man's bedroom at once?"

Silva's face lighted up as his eyes fell upon his mistress. He pointed to thebandages about his throat. His lips moved, but no sound came from them.

"I know exactly what has happened," the Countess said. "No, pray don'tdistress yourself. You must not try your strength. You willnever get better if you exert yourself."

A melancholy smile came over Silva's face. The expression of his eyes told asplainly as possible that he had no delusions on the score of his recovery. Thenhe went through the motion of writing with an imaginary pencil upon an invisiblepaper. Countess Flavio turned impulsively to the nurse.

"Is it quite safe?" she asked. "I don't think the poor fellow will rest tillhe makes me understand; and you see, being Italian myself, anything he maywrite----"

She came to the bedside with a sheet of paper and a pencil, which she placedin Silva's hand. His unsteady fingers began to trace certain signs on the paper.The marks were feeble and straggling enough, but a little care on the part ofthe Countess enabled her to make out what the characters represented.

"It is quite plain to me now," she said, looking down into Silva's eagerface. "You want me to find the diary, do you not? You mean the Count's diary,which was not produced at the trial?"

Silva nodded feebly. Evidently he was fast lapsing into unconsciousnessagain. But with an effort he managed to concentrate his mind upon what theCountess was saying.

"The diary is locked up in a little desk in your bedroom," the Countess wenton. "I am to find it and give it to Mr. Walter Lance to read. My good Silva,this is most extraordinary! What possible interest could Mr. Lance take in thatdiary? Are you quite sure that I have not made a mistake?"

"Very well," the Countess said reluctantly. "I see you are in earnest. I willget the diary at once, and Mr. Lance shall have it without delay. If there isanything more----"

It was idle to speak to Silva any longer. Just for an instant a smileflickered over his face, and then he was completely lost to the world and hissurroundings. Puzzled and mystified, the Countess crept from the room. Silva hadmade this request on what was practically his dying bed, and he must be obeyed.What good it would do at this moment the Countess was quite at a loss to see.She found the little desk presently and broke it open. Inside lay a smallparchment-covered volume with gilt lettering on the outside. With this in herhand the Countess Flavio walked out on to the lawn where Walter was strolling upand down and accosted him.

"This is for you," she said. "I don't know why, but Silva told me to deliverit into your hands, and perhaps when you have read it you will have a differentopinion of Vera's mother."

CHAPTER XLII.

RUN TO EARTH.

Without waiting for a reply the Countess turned away, and went back into thehouse again. In the drawing-room Vera was seated, talking earnestly to LordRavenspur. There was an awkward pause as the Countess Flavio entered the room.Then Vera rose with a crimson face, and came in the direction of her mother.

"I suppose there is no occasion," she said, "to introduce you to one another,though it is so many years ago--"

"I have never seen Lord Ravenspur before in my life," the Countess saidcoldly, "and I am quite sure that he has never seen me, either. We are absolutestrangers."

"But I thought," Vera stammered, "that Lord Ravenspur and yourself---- Oh, Idon't know what I thought."

The girl paused abruptly, conscious that she was saying too much. For sometime past she had been hugging what appeared to be a shameful secret to herbreast. Her face paled with remorse now when she thought how she had misjudgedthese two people. But the embarrassment was not all Vera's, for Ravenspur waslooking unhappy and uncomfortable. Only the Countess appeared to retain her coldself-possession. For some time no one spoke.

"Sooner or later, I suppose, I shall be entitled to an explanation," theCountess said at length. "It is now eighteen years since I was cruelly deprivedof my child. It is just possible that Lord Ravenspur can explain hisextraordinary conduct."

"I think I might manage to do that if we were alone," Ravenspur replied."But, after all, you are Vera's mother, and what I have to say I could not utterin the child's hearing. Oh, I know that sounds like a cowardly remark, but myconscience tells me that I am only doing what is right."

Vera rose as if to go, but Ravenspur stretched out a hand and detained her.There was a determined look in his eyes.

"Not yet," he said; "there will be time for that later on. After dinner, ifthe Countess will give me the honour of an interview, I may be able to satisfyher that I am not the scoundrel she takes me to be. There are always two sidesto a question."

"Yes, where the man is concerned," the Countess said coldly. "Let us hope inthis case the same remark will apply to the woman--that is, if you are preparedto admit that Iam a woman."

Ravenspur murmured something in reply. It seemed to him only right thatmother and daughter should be alone. And, besides, he wanted to think thesituation over. He had formed his own opinion of the Countess. He had implicitlybelieved all that his late friend Flavio had told him about his wife. He hadanticipated something quite different to this. The woman was cold andself-contained and haughty, and yet Ravenspur could see nothing in her face towhich he could take exception. Flavio had spoken of her as a fiend, a creaturewho had no title to the name of woman. His pictures had been glowing and full ofcolour. And now, before a word had been spoken, Ravenspur began to have hisdoubts. And how like the Countess was to Mrs. Delahay. As Ravenspur paced up anddown the lawn, he began to see a little light in dark places. He was stillturning the matter over in his mind when Walter and Venables came out of thehouse.

"Where are you going now?" Ravenspur asked. "What is that thing that you havein your hand?"

"It is a new collar and dog-chain," Walter explained. "It suddenly occurredto Venables just now that we had seen nothing of Bruno all day. I have beenwhistling for him for half an hour, and though I am almost certain he is hidingsomewhere in the bracken on the common, I can't get him to answer the call."

"Probably afraid of a good thrashing for his work last night," Ravenspurmurmured. "But you must manage to get hold of him, Walter. It will never do fora big hound like that to be roaming about the common. Those dogs are all rightwhen they are well fed. But if the beast gets really hungry I wouldn't answerfor the consequences. Whatever else happens, or whatever is neglected, you mustfind Bruno, and that at once."

Walter and Venables went off in the direction of the common, and for the nextcouple of hours sought everywhere for the dog. It seemed to them they could hearhim every now and then. Presently Venables caught sight of his lean, dark-brownside as he crouched behind a great thicket of gorse. Walter called softly, andheld a biscuit out in the direction of the bush. Then slowly, with his body bentto the ground and his head hung down, the great beast came, and Walter slippedthe collar round his neck. He had hardly congratulated himself upon his successwhen a hollow groan close by attracted his attention. He turned eagerly toVenables. "Oh, yes, I heard it," the latter said with a smile. "Can't you guesswho it is? I declare I had absolutely forgotten all about him. Unless I amgreatly mistaken, that is our friend Stevens whom Perks tied up so neatly andartistically last night."

It was precisely as Venables had said. Stevens lay there groaning andshivering, quite helpless and almost unable to move. Even after his bonds werecut away it was some time before he had strength to rise. His teeth werechattering with the cold, although the day was quite a warm one. He was a massof cramps and aches from head to feet. When once his blood began to stir again,he turned an angry face in the direction of his rescuers.

"Oh, you need not laugh," he said. "It is no laughing matter. I'll have thelaw against you for this, see if I don't."

"We will talk about that presently," said Venables coolly. "In the meantime,you had better come as far as the house and have something to eat. And you willbe wise if you say nothing, or know nothing, of what happened last night. Youraccomplice, Silva, lies in bed at the point of death, so you have nothing tofear from him. If you had gone straight with us, you would not have fallen intothis sorry plight. Have you got any money?"

"Oh, well, we'll see you back to town again," Walter replied. "Meanwhile, wehave other work to do. We will take you to the house and see that you areproperly fed, and then you can kill time as best you can for the evening. Youcan return by the last train."

It was dark before Stevens reached the station with the few shillings in hispocket necessary to get him back to London again. As he stepped into athird-class carriage he did not realise that Walter and Venables were takingtheir places at the end of the train. It was just the same at Waterloo Station,where Stevens got out, and a moment later he was being followed by the pair, whohad been joined now by Dallas.

"What is the game, gentlemen?" the Inspector asked. "Surely that man is thewitness Stevens who gave such startling evidence at the Delahay inquest?"

"That is right enough," Walter said. "We are going to follow him and seewhere he goes to. Unless I am greatly mistaken, he can give you a great dealmore information than he did at the inquest. And now, perhaps, I had better tellyou of the discovery which Lord Ravenspur made last night. But, before doingthat, I want to know if you missed anything from Mr. Delahay's studio. Forinstance, did you find a watch on the body?"

"There was no watch," Dallas said, after a moment's thought. "We found apurse in his trousers pocket with some gold in it, but nothing besides. Was hewearing a watch?"

"I am sure if you ask Mrs. Delahay she will tell you so," Walter replied. "Hewas wearing a watch and chain, and on the chain was an ornament which my unclehad given him. My uncle bought that ornament yesterday from a man who isobviously a receiver of stolen goods, and that ornament was sold to the shadyindividual in question by John Stevens. In proof of what I say, here it is."

Dallas' eyes gleamed as he took the trinket in his hand. He said no more ashe walked thoughtfully by the side of his companions, till at length Stevensturned into a shady street, where he entered a dingy public-house. Without theslightest hesitation Dallas followed. He had quite made up his mind what he wasgoing to do. For the time being, at any rate, the public-house was empty.Stevens was sitting in an armchair behind a partition with a glass in his hand.He started and his face changed colour as his eyes fell upon Dallas. TheInspector's manner was genial enough, but there was a grimness on his face thatStevens did not relish.

"Well, unless I am greatly mistaken, you can do a great deal," Dallasreplied. "That matter of the Delahay murder, you know. You remember what youtold us at the inquest?"

"Yes, and every word of it was true," Stevens said tremulously. "If it is thelast word I ever say, it was true."

"And I believe it," Dallas went on. "The only fault I find in your evidenceis that you did not tell us enough. Why didn't you finish your story while youwere about it?"

Stevens looked stealthily at his tormentor. He gulped his glass of liquordown hastily, for there was a queer dryness at the back of his throat thatalmost choked him.

"Come," Dallas said, with a quick and sudden sternness. "Speak out, or itwill be all the worse for you. Tell us who it was who murdered Mr. LouisDelahay?"

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE WHOLE TRUTH.

Stevens stared helplessly at the speaker. He tried to speak, but his jawdropped. He mumbled something that was quite impossible to understand. But, atthe same time, he recognised the peril of his position. There was a ghastlygreen tinge on his face, his hand trembled. Dallas regarded him pleasantlyenough. There was nothing harsh or stern in the detective's manner. His quietair of assured triumph struck a greater terror into Stevens than any sternnesswould have done. The shabby little man wriggled about in his seat looking verymuch like a rat behind the bars of a cage.

"Take your time," Dallas said quietly. "You will find in the long run that itwill pay you a great deal better to tell the truth."

"Up to a certain point, yes. But you didn't go far enough. For instance, youmight have told the coroner that you saw Mr. Delahay's lady visitor a secondtime. You might have gone further, and told the court that Mr. Delahay had othervisitors long after his first one had gone. You see, that would have helped thepolice a good deal, and it would have effectually cleared an innocent lady whomwe suspected of having a hand in the murder. Now who was it that called at thestudio in the early hours of the morning?"

"That, my good man, is for you to say. But you need not answer unless youlike. It so happens that you are waiting here for the individual in questionthis very moment."

The greenish hue crept over Stevens' face again. He could only stare at thespeaker with open-mouthed astonishment. Dallas' manner grew a little more sternand curt as he rose from his seat.

"You will stay where you are," he said, "and with these two gentlemen I willgo into the next box. I think I can trust you not to betray our presence there.In fact, your safety, to a large extent, depends upon your actions in the nexthour or so."

"I have done nothing," Stevens burst out. "I swear I have done nothing. I hadno hand in it at all."

"That I quite believe," Dallas replied. "It was afterwards that you began tosee your way to make some money out of it. And now let me tell you something.You don't deserve any consideration at my hands, but I am prepared to spare youas far as possible. Oh, I know you will play me false at the first chance. Butlet me tell you, I know all about your visit to your friend, Perks, of CannonGreen. I know how you disposed of certain stolen goods which, until the night ofthe murder, were in the possession of Mr. Louis Delahay. After that, I don'tthink you will deem it prudent to try any of your nonsense with me."

Dallas turned away, and, with his two companions, entered the next box. Itwas gloomy enough there, so that their presence was not likely to be detected byanyone who came in. Walter turned eagerly to Dallas. His curiosity was arousednow. He wanted to know how it was that the inspector knew so much.

"It was mere conjecture on my part," Dallas said. "Of course, what you toldme gave me a great deal of assistance; but I did not begin to see my way quiteclearly until we followed Stevens here. The landlord of this public-house hasnever got into trouble as yet. But we know perfectly well that a good deal ofstolen property is disposed of, and when I saw Stevens turn in here, thingsbecame plain enough. He was coming to meet his accomplice, and hand over hisshare of the money which he had obtained from Perks. Before half an hour isover, the real culprit will be here. Please stop talking directly anybody comesin. It will spoil everything if our presence here becomes known."

It was precisely as Dallas had said. Some twenty minutes later a man loungedinto the bar and called for something to drink. He seemed to suspect nothing, heappeared to be perfectly at his ease. He whistled some music-hall air merrily.The man was fairly well-dressed. A gaudy cap on the back of his head disclosed aplaster of greasy curls on a peculiarly low and retreating forehead. Thestranger might have been a street hawker in his best clothes. Certainly he didnot suggest a professional criminal.

He swallowed his drink and strolled towards the fireplace without noticingthe three occupants in the recesses of the box. Then he caught sight of Stevens,and took a seat by his side. The conversation was conducted in whispers, but itwas possible for the listeners to hear most of what was taking place.

"Don't trouble about that," Stevens muttered. "But I didn't get half as muchas you thought I should. Forty pounds was the price my man offered, and hewouldn't give another penny."

The newcomer growled something incoherent. Then there was a chink of moneystealthily passed, followed by a volley of oaths from Stevens' companion.

"The game isn't worth playing," he muttered. "Fancy, twenty quid for a joblike that, and the chance of hanging into the bargain. I wish I had never gonethere, John. I wish I had never met you that night, when you told me all aboutthe house in Fitzjohn Square. I wake up in the night in a bath of cold sweatwhen I think of it. Fancy going into what you take to be an empty house, andfinding a dead body staring up in your face from the floor! Yes, Itookhis watch and chain all right, but I don't know where I got the pluck from. Tookthe risk of being strung up for it, bli'me! And me ready to get married, and thedate fixed and all! Lord, if I could only see my way to get clear of it all!Twenty quid against a man's life! You go and try it yourself, and see what it'slike, my ancient pal. When I recollect as it was you as told me of the brokencatch on the studio window, I could bash your face in, I could. I can't forgetit. I have tried drink, but that is no use. You can stave it off for an hour ortwo, and then it comes back worse than ever. And all for the sake of twentyquid!"

Stevens made no reply. He sat there quivering from head to foot, sick withsuspense and anxiety, wondering in his mind when Dallas was going to strike. Atany other time the ghastly colour of his face would have attracted the attentionof his companion, but the other man was occupied with his own thoughts. He wasstaring moodily into the fireplace.

"Don't talk about it," Stevens managed to say at length. "If you had told meabout it at the time, I never should have touched that stuff. But I had got itin my pocket, and I had given my word before ever I had heard of the murder. Andhow was I to know that there was a chance of Mr. Delahay coming back? Ifanything happens you will say as much for me, won't you?"

Stevens asked the question with trembling eagerness. He made his request morewith a view to impressing Dallas than anything else. But the culprit by hisside, apparently, had no idea of the drift of the question, or why it was asked.

"Oh, you have nothing to fear," he said moodily. "At least, it is all rightas long as that stuff isn't traced. But what is the use of sitting here jawinglike this? Let us go to a music-hall or theatre or something of thatkind--anything to get away from one's thoughts. Every now and again----"

The speaker rose to his feet, and Stevens dragged his trembling limbs fromthe settee. At the same moment, Dallas appeared upon the scene and touched thestranger lightly on the shoulder.

The other man heaved a sigh, which sounded almost like relief. Just for amoment all the blood left his face. Then he recovered himself and looked atDallas steadily.

"Dallas, of Scotland Yard," he said. "Oh, I know you well enough, sir, and Iexpect you know me."

"Name of Cooney," Dallas said briskly. "Jim Cooney. I arrest you for burglaryat the residence of Mr. Louis Delahay, in Fitzjohn Square."

"Yes, that's right enough," Cooney said. "I am not going to complain. Upon myword, I am glad it is over. If you just let me have a cigarette and anotherdrink I'll tell you all about it; and a nice sort of pal you are, Stevens. Oh,I'd give something to have you for five minutes to myself. You sneaking rat!"

"I couldn't help myself," Stevens whined. "Upon my word, I couldn't. Besides,what does it matter? Inspector Dallas knows all about it. He even knew you werecoming here tonight, though I swear he never had a single hint from me. Isn'tthat so, Inspector? Am I telling the truth, or am I a liar?"

"It is perfectly true, Cooney," Dallas explained. "I followed Stevens here,knowing quite well that he was waiting for you."

The assurance seemed to be sufficient, for Cooney asked no further questions.Nor was it for Dallas to explain that, till a few moments ago, he had no idea ofthe real identity of the man whom Stevens had come to meet. Cooney took a longwhiff of his cigarette and pitched the end of it into the fireplace.

"I am quite ready for you now," he said, "and I'll tell you all about it ifyou like. Oh, I know everything I say will be taken down in evidence against me;but it is little I mind that. I plundered the dead body of Mr. Delahay, allright. He was dead when I got there, and if I didn't tell you so, you overheardenough to jug me half a dozen times. Don't look at me like that Mr. Dallas, sir.Don't think as I had any hand in the murder, sir. May I die if I ain't asinnocent of that as a kid."

"Better not say too much," Dallas suggested. "Really, I am not curious tohear. And now, come along. You can have a cab if you like. Perhaps you may comeout of this better than you expect--if you are only candid."

"Don't be in a hurry," Cooney pleaded. "I'll tell you everything, sir, Iwill--straight--everything from start to finish. Sit down and listen to me; andyou need not be afraid that I shall try and escape. I don't want to."

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE STORY OF A CRIME.

Dallas shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Truth to tell he was bothannoyed and disappointed. He had looked forward with every assurance to layinghis hand on the actual culprit in the person of Cooney. As it was now, the wholething looked like beginning all over again. A suspicion of the real truth wasdawning on his mind. "It was like this," Cooney said, in a harsh, strainedvoice. "I have been pretty short of a job for some time, and I promised to payfor a lot of furniture I bought for my house by a given time. I had the stuff onthe hire-purchase system, and I knew precious well what would happen if I didnot keep the instalments up. I had only a day or two to spare, and I was gettingpretty anxious. That same evening I met Stevens in a public house. I hadn't seenhim for some time, and, naturally enough, I asked him what he had been doing.Then he told me that on behalf of a party, whose name he didn't mention, he hadbeen shadowing a certain house in Fitzjohn Square. I wasn't particularlyinterested until he let out that he could tell me a good deal about the housesthere, and how some of them would be easy work for the likes of a chap such asme, for instance. Then I asks a few questions, and hears all about Mr. Delahay'sstudio. Thinks I to myself, here's a bit of luck for you, Jim Cooney. I had allthe information I wanted. The next night I goes round and has a look at thestudio. The thing was as easy as eating your dinner. I waited till it got prettylate, and then I got into the house from the back. When I did get there, I wasrather alarmed to see a light in the studio. I crept along to the door, andlooked in. You can imagine my surprise when I saw a gentleman painting there.When I looked at him again I had no difficulty in recognising Lord Ravenspur.

"What he was doing there, I don't know. But seeing it wasn't his own house, Ireckoned he wasn't likely to stay long, so I just sat down to wait patiently forsuch a time as I could have the place to myself. It wasn't more than an hourbefore I heard the door open, and two other people came in. They were a lady anda gentleman, but who the lady was I don't know from Adam. The gentleman, as youwill guess, was Mr. Delahay himself. I suppose the lady was really Mrs. Delahay,too; I mean, the woman who is suspected of the murder. But I am getting a bitaway from the point. I had hardly time to hide myself behind a recess with acurtain in front of it before the newcomers came into the hall and began totalk. They were conversing more or less in whispers, so that I could not followvery well, but I could see that they were annoyed to find Lord Ravenspur there,and they were casting about for some means of getting rid of him. Presently thelady said something about the light and the cable, and the gentleman seemed tofall in with her suggestion. Anyway, I saw him take a knife from his pocket, andgo down into the basement. A moment later the whole place was plunged indarkness----"

"You mean that the cable was cut?" Dallas asked. "Well, I am glad thatmystery is cleared up. I am bound to tell you, gentlemen, that that cut cablehas caused me no end of trouble. It started me on a dozen, more or lessimpossible, theories. I see exactly what happened now. Mr. Delahay and hiscompanion doubtless thought that if they cut off the light, they would get ridof Lord Ravenspur."

"That is exactly what they did," Cooney resumed. "I heard his lordshipfussing about, and trying the electric switches, but he gave it up as a bad job,and after a bit left the house. Mr. Delahay appeared presently from somewhere,with a lamp, which he carried into the studio, and the lady followed him. I wasclose enough at hand to see what took place. The lady had come, evidently forsome valuable jewelry, for Mr. Delahay produced a case from a safe, and handedit over to her. My word, but those stones did sparkle! It seemed to me that Iwas in luck that night. My game obviously was to take no further heed of thestudio, but to follow the lady as soon as she left the house. It was nearly twoo'clock in the morning, and there wasn't a soul about. In my mind's eye I sawthose stones already in my pocket. But, unfortunately for me, Mr. Delahay walkedwith his visitor as far as the front gate, and stood looking up the road untilthe lady was safe in a hansom. It was as much as I could do to get back to thehouse again without being discovered, but I managed it all right. There wereseveral valuable articles I had marked down, and directly Mr. Delahay was backin the studio I began to gather them together. I dropped one trinket, whichtinkled on the floor, and my heart was in my mouth. I thought that the sounddidn't reach the ears of Mr. Delahay. But I was mistaken. A minute or two laterI heard him coming, and I bolted through the window into the garden. I waitedthere perhaps for an hour before it seemed safe for me to go back, and then Iwent. I turned on the light. . . . My heart was fair in my mouth. Then I lookeddown at the floor. There lay Mr. Delahay as dead as a rabbit. I believe I howledfor a moment, I was taken to! But there he lay, and there was his watch-chaina-shining in the light, and then it comes into my head that, if I'd got pluckenough, here was a way to pay for them sticks of furniture of mine. It was hardwork, but I managed to screw myself up to it at last. After all said and done,I'd only come here to take what I could get, and it wasn't me that knifed thepoor gentleman. Besides, he might have died a natural death for all I knew.There was no sign of blood about, and nothing that suggested violence. All thesame, I couldn't go through it again if you offered me ten thousand of thebest."

Cooney paused and shuddered. Great beads of perspiration poured down hisface. Then he resumed once more.

"Well, he was dead, and there was an end of it. Just for the moment I wasn'tthinking about much besides my little happy home. I pocketed all the valuables Icould lay my hands upon, and carried them away. You may say that that was a madthing to do, but after I saw Mr. Delahay lying dead at my feet, it seemed to meas if he wasn't likely to miss 'em. Oh, I know as I stand in what the paperscall a serious position. But that's the gospel truth, and I can't tell you anymore. It seems to me I have said enough. And now, if you will call a cab, sir, Iam ready for you."

A cab was called, and Dallas drove off in the direction of Bow Street withhis prisoner. He stopped just a moment to exchange a few words with Lance andVenables.

"There is no reason why Mrs. Delahay should not know this just yet?" Walterasked. "You may be sure that she feels her position keenly. Would there be anyobjection to getting her to accompany us as far as Cannon Green tonight? Youwill understand why."

"None at all," Dallas said. "I'll send a message to the man who is watchingoutside the Grand Hotel, and let him know that his presence there is needed nolonger. All the same, we have still got to find the culprit. It isn't Cooney. Hetold us the truth, I'm certain. The culprit is at Cannon Green! What a fool I'vebeen!"

Mrs. Delahay received her visitors in a dull, apathetic way, which had neverleft her since the night of the tragedy. But her face cleared, and her mannerbecame more soft and gentle as she listened to the story which Walter had totell. She dropped into a chair, and for some moments the tears ranunrestrainedly down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes presently. There wassomething like a smile on her lips as she turned to Walter.

"I believe those tears saved my reason," she said. "I have not been able tocry. I have not been able to feel the last few days. The death of my husband wasbad enough. The knowledge that I was suspected of his murder was worse, but thefeeling that my own sister possibly had a hand in the tragedy was worse than allthe rest. There are one or two matters to be explained yet, but the great truthis growing plain, and I feel like a living being once more. Oh, yes; I will comedown to Cannon Green with you; I am looking forward to it with something likepleasure. I know that when I have seen my sister everything will be cleared up."

It was a different woman who came down from her room half an hour later,ready for the journey. She looked sad and pathetic enough in her deep mourning.The trouble still brooded in her eyes, but the look of stony despair was nolonger there. They came at length to the house on the common. The windows werelighted up, the hall looked comfortable and cheery.

In the drawing-room were the Countess Flavio and Vera. They rose as Mrs.Delahay entered.

"I have brought your sister," Walter explained briefly. "She has much to sayto you. Perhaps I had better leave you alone."

CHAPTER XLV.

COUNT FLAVIO'S DIARY.

It was getting exceedingly late now, but the two sisters Descarti, togetherwith Vera, were still in the drawing-room. Nobody cared to disturb them. It wasfelt that they would have much to say to one another. And no doubt, all they hadto tell would be disclosed when the proper time came. Valdo had not recoveredconsciousness again. He lay there overhead, with a vigilant-eyed nurse watchinghim. Venables had not come down with Mrs. Delahay and Walter. He had excusedhimself on the plea of business, and on the understanding that he would visitCannon Green the following day. In the dining-room for the last hour or twoWalter had been seated, deeply engrossed in the slim, parchment-covered volumewhich had been sent him by Countess Flavio at the urgent request of her dyingservant.

Time was going on, and still Walter did not look up from the book. It waslong past two before he finished. Then with a firm step and a determined air hewent up to the little library where Lord Ravenspur was busy writing letters. Thelatter looked up, and demanded to know what his nephew wanted.

"I want you to look at this," Walter said quietly. "It is a diary written byyour late friend Count Flavio, whose handwriting you will, of course, recognise.The diary came into the hands of Silva after his master's death. Now Silva toldme some time ago--in fact, during that memorable interview in your studio--thathe had in his possession documentary evidence which would prove that hismistress was an injured woman, and his master a scoundrel of the deepest dye.When I asked him why he did not produce this book at the trial, he shrugged hisshoulders, and said that it would have been useless. Public opinion against theCountess ran so high that nobody would have believed that it was anything but aforgery. But that will be for you to judge. Before we go any further, I wantyour assurance that this is your dead friend's own handwriting."

Lord Ravenspur turned over the leaves of the manuscript, more or lesslanguidly. One leaf after another he fluttered over; then he handed the bookback to Walter again.

"I am not going to contest the point," he said. "Beyond question, this is myunfortunate friend's handwriting; though the letters are quite plain, thewriting could not be easily forged. Indeed, to forge such an amount as thatwould be the work of half a lifetime. But what do you want me to do?"

Walter signified that he would like his uncle to read the whole of thevolume, but Lord Ravenspur shook his head.

"I am afraid I cannot," he said. "I can speak Italian fairly enough, as youknow, but that is merely colloquial, and I had never time really to master thelanguage. But, seeing that you spent three years of your life there, don't youthink that you had better read it out to me. I suppose it is interesting?"

"I never read anything that fascinated me more," Walter said. "Mind you, thisis the secret diary of Count Flavio. He had no idea that anybody would ever readit. I have gone through the volume from start to finish, and I am forced to theconclusion that your friend was the poisonous scoundrel that Silva declares himto be. I tell you, if this book was published, it would cause a great sensationfrom one end of Europe to the other. It is the work of a brilliant man with afine style and an imaginative mind--the history of an attempt to deprive a womanof her will, and of her reason. For the three years during which the Count andCountess Flavio lived together the woman's life was one long, incessant torture.Mind you, there was no actual violence, but the tortures were exquisite andcruel all the same. And here we have them in the Count's own words. It isabsolutely necessary that you should listen to some extracts from this amazingwork."

"February 17th, 1887. What man is there who has ever succeeded in penetratingthe unfathomable depths of a woman's mind? What fools we men are to assume aknowledge of the sex until we are married, and have the object lesson before usday by day! There is Carlotta, for example. Carlotta's prevailing trouble isthat she is jealous of me. She seems to think that because she cut herself offfrom her family for my sake, I am to be at her beck and call henceforth and forever. This peculiar form of jealousy interests and amuses me. It is a pleasureto study it from a scientific basis. This morning I told her I was going toFlorence for a day or two, and she wept because I would not allow her toaccompany me. I could see that she does not trust me, wherefore I caused afriend of mine who can imitate a woman's writing excellently, to write me apassionate love-letter, which fell quite naturally into Carlotta's hands.

"The scene which followed was exquisitely amusing. I have never seen a womanweep to such an extent before. Positively my charming Carlotta was enchanting. Iwas quite sorry at length when she assumed a mantle of dignity, and left me.Still, this is only the first of many such scenes if I engineered them properly.I see that Carlotta is in possession of all the emotions, so that, by studyingher alone, I shall be in a position to add some really extraordinary chapters tomy great book on women and their ways.

"March 19th, 1887. Carlotta has afforded me a month of absolute enjoyment.Why do people pay money to sit in stuffy theatres and watch comedies andtragedies when they can see and hear the real, palpitating thing for nothing?Outwardly, Carlotta and myself are at daggers drawn. She thinks I am unrepentantand angry, but, as to myself, I have never been more cheerful and happy in mylife. And when Carlotta threatens to leave me, I ask her why she is going,knowing perfectly well that she has not the slightest intention of leaving me.Women are very much like cats in these matters--they will make many sacrificesfor the sake of the domestic hearth. I was talking to Dr. Sacci, the greatsurgeon, the other day, and he was telling me of the fierce joy that comesthrough some new discovery which has been the outcome of vivisection. But, then,Sacci is only working in the interests of humanity, whereas my vivisectionallows me to see the exquisite suffering of the patient. I can study the nerves,and the palpitating wound, at the very moment when the knife enters.

"December 21st, 1887. The last chapter in my book is by far the mostbrilliant and searching which I have yet added to that fascinating volume.Whatever Carlotta suffers in the present, she shall go down to posterity as themartyr of her sex. I will place her on a pinnacle as high as my own. Indeed, Iwas almost sorry when I had to tell her the story of the love-letter, and how Ihad been playing on her feelings all these months. At the same time, I lookedforward to the explanation, because I knew that it would open up to me a freshphase of womanly nature. And I confess that it did with a vengeance. Carlottaturned pale. She stood there looking as if she were filled with the greatestphysical agony, her eyes filled with tears which did not fall. I don't know howmany days it is since she spoke to me last, but certainly it must be upwards ofa fortnight. This is not exactly what I expected. It is only when a woman talksthat one can judge of how the experiment is progressing. Tomorrow, all beingwell, I am going to adopt a new scheme which I hope will have the desiredeffect.

"December 22nd, 1887. Our little Vera has disappeared. Evidently she has beenkidnapped with a view to a reward. The whole neighbourhood is up in arms, and mywife is distracted. It has often been a favourite theory of mine that every mantakes a second place in a woman's affections as soon as her first child is born.I look back now with a vivid recollection of the early days when I first metCarlotta. I look back to her passionate love scenes, and her declarations that Ishould be first with her, then and always. Even though I was very muchenamoured, I had my doubts when I was alone, and in a position to debate thematter clearly. The time has come to put the question to a test, and thus itbecame necessary for Vera to disappear. I might say at once that my theory hasbeen vindicated to the letter. I now know that Carlotta cares far more for Verathan she does for me. The reflection is not soothing to one's vanity, but thereit is. There is a wildness and intensity in her grief, which she never wouldhave experienced had I been brought home to her in the last stage ofdissolution. I must keep this up. I must work this phase as long as it lasts,which will not be an indefinite time, because I must not drive my patient toofar. She begins to show signs of collapse already. I think at the end of a weekI must have Vera brought back again. By the expiration of that time, I fancy Ican add another chapter to my remarkable book."

Walter stopped for a moment, his voice was full of loathing and disgust. Anhonest indignation almost choked him. He saw now that his anger and contemptwere reflected on the face of Ravenspur.

"Do you want me to read any further," he said, "or is that sufficient? ShallI tell you, for instance, what happened after this inhuman wretch brought hischild home again? Shall I tell you of other tortures and tyrannies, and how thisscoundrel rejoices in the fact that his neighbours like him and pity him becausehe is married to a bad-tempered woman, who makes his life a burden? That is thenote that runs all through this extraordinary diary. The man uses it as a weaponto play upon the feelings of his wife. If you are not yet satisfied I will pickout----"

"No, no," Ravenspur cried, as he rose to his feet. "I have heard enough andmore than enough. Flavio must have been a madman; and yet I regarded him as oneof the best and noblest of men. I never dreamt he had an enemy. I never knewanybody say a word against him. And to think that a man of the world like myselfshould be deceived in this way! Everything is now growing wonderfully clearbefore my eyes, Walter. I can even understand why the Countess left her daughterbehind her. Fancy suffering all that trouble and humiliation to find, later on,that the child you had done so much for was likely to turn out as her father haddone! In the last ten minutes you have proved that I was wrong, and the Countesswas right; and yet it seemed to me that I was justified in my actions. I don'tknow what I am going to do. I don't know what steps I can take to convince thatunhappy woman that I acted for the best. At any rate, I must make a beginningbefore I go to bed tonight."

Ravenspur took up the volume and went down the stairs. In the drawing-room,the Countess, Mrs. Delahay, and Vera were still seated, talking earnestlytogether. Ravenspur crossed the room to the Countess's side and held out thebook.

"Do you know what this contains?" he asked. "I suppose you have read it fromcover to cover?"

"I can quite understand your feelings," Ravenspur said. "I have only heardextracts, but they have been quite sufficient for me. And now let me do my bestto try and convince you that I acted in what I conceived to be the trueinterests of your child. I know now how wrong I was. I know that you have beenmade the victim of a scoundrel and a madman; and if you can forgive me for whatI have done, I will be your grateful servant in the future."

"One moment," the Countess said. "There is another, and yet more painfulthing to confess. I understand from your nephew that the police think that theyhave a most important clue to the murder of Louis Delahay. The police are allwrong. It is incredible to me that they have not discovered the truth before;that they have not blundered on it. Surely you can guess who it is who isresponsible for the death of my poor sister's husband?"

"Nobody else. The man tracked you to Fitzjohn Square. There was not one ofyour movements that he did not know. But come this way. I dare say the nursewill not mind us talking to the patient for a few moments alone. You shall hearSilva confirm what I have said to you."

Ravenspur stumbled to his feet. He was dazed and numbed with surprise; andyet the more he came to think of it, the more plausible it seemed. No, the nursehad no objection, it would not harm the patient. He was very near to his endnow. Weak as he was, his eyes gleamed as he caught sight of Lord Ravenspur, theold wolfish look was on his face.

"We have been mistaken, my dear Silva," the Countess said. "Lord Ravenspurhas been one of my best friends if I had only known it. He was deceived by myhusband, as hundreds of others were. His lordship was led to believe that theCount was a martyr to a dreadful wife, a woman incapable of looking after achild. The kidnapping of my daughter was part of his vengeance upon me, so thathe could reach me from the other side of the grave. Everything has beenexplained, the diary has been read by Lord Ravenspur; and he has forgiven you,he has come to your bedside to say so before you--you----"

"Die," Silva said, with an effort. "Curse his forgiveness. If I could standup now----"

He could say no more, the malignant hate, the fire of madness, still gleamedin his dark eyes. He would hold the same tradition to the end. There was nochance of anything like a reconciliation here.

"I expected nothing else," the Countess said sadly. "Only a Corsican couldunderstand his feelings. It is his blood, his religion. But if you can'tforgive, my poor Silva, you can confess. It may be the means of saving aninnocent life. It was you who were responsible for the death of Mr. Delahay?"

Silva nodded quite coolly. There was an upward heave of his shoulders thatwas very expressive. It was like one who confesses to a mistake.

"I understand," the Countess resumed. "It was a misunderstanding. You hadtraced Lord Ravenspur to the studio. You were going to kill him there. Only Mr.Delahay and myself interrupted you. You were probably hiding somewhere outside,waiting for your opportunity, when we arrived. You did not see us, you were notaware of anything till the lights were out. I may make errors in details, but inthe main I am quite correct. No, don't try and talk--a nod is sufficient. WhenMr. Delahay returned to the studio, after Lord Ravenspur was driven away, andafter I had gone, you were in the studio. You mistook Mr. Delahay for LordRavenspur, and killed him with a glass Corsican dagger. You did not know tillyou saw the papers the next day that you had made a mistake?"

Silva nodded again. He did not appear to feel the least remorse, but hishungry eyes testified how he regretted that he had so signally failed. The oldwild spirit was still there, even the approach of death could not quench it.Ravenspur turned away, filled with disgust and sadness.

"Really, there is nothing more to be said," he murmured. "I should like toput the heads of the confession down and get the unhappy man to sign it."

Silva affixed a straggling signature to the confession. Then he turned overon his side and refused to listen any more. Evidently he was going to die as hehad lived--hard, unfeeling, carrying his bitter hatred to the grave.

"According to his lights," Ravenspur murmured, "let us hope that he will notbe judged too harshly where he is going so soon."

CHAPTER XLVI.

A WOMAN'S HEART.

The hard, cold face had softened slightly. It seemed to Ravenspur that therewas something akin to a smile in Countess Flavio's eyes when once more they werealone in the drawing-room together.

"Let us try and forget that dreadful scene," she said, "as I will try andforget what a hard, misunderstood life mine has been."

"It must have been terrible," Ravenspur exclaimed; "and yet there was not aman in Europe for whom I had a higher regard than I had for your husband. To mehe was the soul of honour. I always found him generous and liberal-minded. Ihave seen him do the most spontaneous acts of kindness to strangers. It seemedhard to think that he was wholly bad."

"He was an enigma," the Countess replied. "In his brain lay a curious vein ofmadness, which vented itself upon me. No one else suffered, and, indeed, no oneknew that I suffered, with the solitary exception of that poor lost soul who islying at death's door upstairs. When I fled from my father's house, knowing thatI had cut myself off entirely from my own flesh and blood, Silva followed me.From the first he began to see how I was suffering. From the first he began toentertain a malignant hatred of my husband."

"Ah, there you are wrong," the Countess exclaimed. "With all the earnestnessin my power I want to impress upon you that my husband poisoned himself. As youhave been informed, for generations there had been a feud between the Descartisand my husband's family. After my marriage it would have been an easy matter formy father to summon some of his retainers, and command them to avenge the honourand dignity of the family. My father chose not to do it. He was satisfied withthe solemn assurance that only one child of his remained. The summons was sentout by Silva. He did not tell me. I did not know in the least what he was doingtill afterwards. But the sign went forth, and my husband received his warning.There was no escape for him, and he knew it. That is why he took his own life.No doubt in doing so he was actuated by some extraordinary motive, for, with allhis faults, he was no coward; but even from beyond the grave he persecuted me.His body was found in circumstances that pointed to me as the murderess. Oh, youmay start and shrink, but what I tell you is absolutely true. The whole thingwas planned, with diabolical ingenuity, by the Count on the night of his death.Had it not been for Silva I should have gone down to my grave execrated by allwho knew me."

"But you were not there," Ravenspur expostulated. "It was proved that youwere in Florence at the time."

"That was where Silva's cunning and ingenuity came in. During the few hoursthat preceded and followed that tragic event I saw nobody. I was utterly wornout and prostrated. I could not drag myself from my bed. But nobody saw me, forI had given strict orders that I was not to be disturbed. I did not know thenthat my sister was alive. In fact, I had got into such a state that I had nointerest in anything. At that time my sister Maria was taking a holiday inFlorence, and Silva was aware of the fact. When I ask you to notice theextraordinary likeness between us, you will have no trouble in guessing whathappened. Silva was in a position to bring over scores of people from Florence,who swore that I was in that town at the time of the tragedy. It was a boldthing to do, and nobody guessed, nobody doubted the sincerity of the witnesses,and thus my life was saved."

"It is a most extraordinary story," Ravenspur murmured. "But, really, thereis no reason for you to justify yourself any further. We know that you areabsolutely innocent of any sort of crime. I know now what kind of a life Flavioled you. Had I been aware at the time I should never have interfered. And yetFlavio managed to convey to me the impression that you were the last woman inthe world who ought to have the custody of a child. I committed an illegal actat the earnest request of my old friend. I ran a great risk, but it seemed to methat I was justified in what I did."

"I see you are now," the Countess said thoughtfully. "For many, many years nodoubt you have rejoiced in the fact that you saved Vera from a life of miseryand unhappiness. You never expected to see or hear from me again. You lookedupon the child as your own. And now, to a certain extent, I must justify myself.I stand in your eyes as a deeply wronged and injured woman, and yet you mightsay to yourself that as a mother I have been lacking in my duties. I tell youfor a long time after the death of my husband my mind trembled on the borderlinebetween reason and insanity. I was afraid to see my child. I was fearful lest Ishould find in her some trace of her father; and, if I had done so, I believethat I should have taken her life. But, gradually, as the years went on and Igrew older, a longing to see my child came over me that amounted almost to apassion. I left my retreat in the mountains, and came into the world again. Itwas at this time that I met Silva once more, and for three years he was lookingfor my child. I need not tell you, Lord Ravenspur, how he got on the track."

"I would have prevented that if I could," the Countess went on quickly. "Iwanted no violence. But I knew that Silva would go his own way. I knew thatnobody could check his fanaticism. In his eyes you were marked down forslaughter. You had violated the dignity and honour of the family, and thereforeyou must be removed. Let me be quite candid--I think I hated you almost as muchas Silva did. You had robbed me of my child at the instigation of my cruelhusband. Not unnaturally, I regarded you as being little or no better than CountFlavio. All the same, as I said before, I wanted no violence. That was one ofthe reasons why I did not come to your house and claim my child. I felt surethat you would defy me, and place Vera somewhere beyond my reach."

"Most undoubtedly I should," Ravenspur said candidly. "You see, I did notknow then that you were capable----"

"Of looking after my daughter," the Countess interrupted. "And, from yourpoint of view, your actions would have been justified. As soon as the dangerthreatened seriously you made arrangements to get away from England until Verawas of age, and capable of acting for herself. But Silva found out----"

"One moment," Vera cried eagerly. "Was your servant, Silva, in Park Lanedisguised as a blind organ-grinder?"

"I understand so," the Countess went on. "At any rate, Silva managed things,in his usual able manner. He contrived to get Vera away from Lady Ringmar'sparty, and bring here down her. I daresay you will think that this was all verymelodramatic and unnecessary, but, as I pointed out to you before, I wanted noviolence. I thought when Silva's plan was successful that I should be able topersuade him to forego the rest of his vengeance. I thought that once I had mydaughter back in my own hands, I could take her out of the country and get Silvato accompany me. Then you, Lord Ravenspur, would have been safe. But in certainmatters Silva is quite as insane as my husband was. It was in vain that Iappealed to him. He had made his vow, and he was going to carry it out. It isonly fitting that he should have brought so just a punishment upon his ownshoulders."

"And yet there is something magnificent in a vengeance like his," Ravenspursaid, thoughtfully. "Now that everything is cleared up, how simple it seems.There is only one thing that puzzles me, and that is your connection with myunfortunate friend Louis Delahay. It seems a remarkable thing that both yousisters should have known Delahay. How did it come about?"

"That I have just been explaining at some length," the Countess said. "Butfor your benefit I will go over the ground again."

Ravenspur listened with the greatest interest to the story which the Countesshad to tell. She told him vividly enough of the eventful night when she had madeup her mind to leave her husband's roof, and how her life had been saved at acritical moment by a total stranger, who turned out to be Louis Delahay--thesame Delahay who, years afterwards, met Maria Descarti and made her his wife.She told the story of the jewels, and how the time had come when she neededthem, to turn into money to aid her in her search for Vera. Then she went on tospeak of her meeting with Delahay.

"One moment," Ravenspur said. "When Louis married you, Mrs. Delahay, did henot notice your extraordinary likeness to the Countess, whom he had befriendedso many years ago?"

"He couldn't," the Countess exclaimed. "Not only was our interview in thedark, but I was wearing a veil. Oh, you may say it was an extraordinary thing totrust my valuables to a perfect stranger, but more amazing things happen everyday, and I was beside myself with grief and terror and despair at the time. Atany rate, I did it, and I got my jewels back again. I can tell you, if you like,the story of that strange interview. I can describe how I went down to thestudio with Mr. Delahay, and how we saw you there. But we are wasting time andit is getting late. There is only one thing to regret now, and that is the deathof my sister's husband; but it has always been useless for a Descarti to expectanything like happiness in this world. Never was one of our family yet, who wasnot born to misery and despair. Still, one can now look forward to a morepleasant time. I am quite sure, after what has happened, that you will not tryto stand between Vera and myself any longer, Lord Ravenspur. I can only thankyou from the bottom of my heart for what you have done."

"Vera has been very dear to me," Lord Ravenspur said, with some emotion. "Idaresay we shall be able to explain matters satisfactorily, so that people willnot be in a position to talk. And now, as it is getting so very late----"

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE PASSING OF THE VENGEANCE.

It was well into the following afternoon when the trained nurse came quietlydown the stairs, and announced to Lord Ravenspur that her task was finished.Silva had died in his sleep. The troubled spirit was at rest, the tardyconfession had been made, and Lord Ravenspur had no longer any occasion to fearthe vengeance that had followed him so long. There would have to be an inquest,of course--as there was. But there was nothing much here to arouse publiccuriosity. A servant at the house on the common had been severely mauled by asavage dog prowling about, and he had succumbed to the shock. The newspapers hada few paragraphs, but in a day or two the incident was forgotten, nor was thereany occasion to worry the owner of the house, seeing that the place had beentaken by Silva in the proper name of his mistress. The servants had seen nothingeither, so that scandal was entirely checked. It would, perhaps, be a difficultmatter later on to explain the unexpected reappearance of Vera's mother, but itseemed to Ravenspur that he could see a way to solve that problem. And after thelapse of eighteen years, nobody would identify the Countess Flavio with theItalian scandal that had been a sensation in Europe back in the 'eighties.Ravenspur and the Countess were good enough friends now, and Mrs. Delahay wasbeginning to recover her health and strength again. Already the Fitzjohn Squaremurder had ceased to occupy public attention now that the tragedy had beensolved, and there was no chance of the culprit being brought before an earthlytribunal. As to Cooney, he got off quite as lightly as he deserved. And thereare always new sensations to follow the old.

"I think, on the whole, you had better remain here for the present,"Ravenspur suggested. "You have the house on your hands for two months, and,really, it is a very pleasant place. Everybody is out of town for the present,and very few of my friends will be back in London again before the autumn. Thiswill give us time to invent some plausible story to account for yourreappearance. I don't like that kind of thing as a rule, but is is quiteessential in this case."

"I am going to have a couple of quiet months on the continent. As you canimagine, my nerves are considerably shaken, and I am not so young as I used tobe. I shall miss Vera, of course, but I think it is far better for her to stayhere with you, so that you can get to know one another properly. But has it everoccurred to you, Countess, that before long Vera will have another and a closerguardian than either of our two selves?"

"I suppose that is inevitable," the Countess said as she looked thoughtfullyacross the flower-beds. "Still, the fault is my own. I deliberately wastedeighteen years, and it is hardly to be expected that Vera--but don't let usanticipate."

"I am afraid the mischief is done," Ravenspur smiled. "From a remark thatVera let slip the other night, I learnt a great deal that has been going on inher mind. Goodness knows how she got the impression, but she honestly believedthat I was something more than her guardian, and that, between you andmyself--but I mustn't pain you by being more definite. Anyway, I now know whyVera appeared to be so unhappy and miserable a few weeks ago, and why sheconceived the idea of leaving my house, and going out into the world to get herown living. To make matters quite plain, she and my nephew have fallen in lovewith one another and she thought that I should oppose the match. As a matter offact, I did. But not for the reasons that Vera supposed. What I was afraid ofwas that the vengeance intended for me might have been transferred to Walter,had he married Vera then. Of course, matters are on a totally different footingnow, and nobody is more delighted than myself. Walter is a fine fellow. He willbe rich some of these days. He will succeed to the title at my death. If I wereyou, Countess, I would not interfere with that arrangement."

"I am afraid it would be too late in any case," the Countess said, sadly. "Ihave no right to say a word. And, from what I have seen of your nephew, I shouldsay that he will make a good husband for any girl. Still, it is rather adisappointment to find that I have been supplanted in this way, though I ambound to admit that the fault is entirely my own."

Ravenspur was quite content to leave it discreetly at that, and all the moreso because Vera herself was at that moment coming down the garden path. Thegirl's face was bright and happy now. The look of trouble had vanished from hereyes. The sun was shining full in her face, and as the Countess regarded herdaughter critically she could see no suggestion of her father in her face. AsLord Ravenspur moved away, Vera took her place by her mother's side.

"We have been discussing your future," the Countess replied. "Lord Ravenspurhas been telling me something which, apparently, I ought to have guessed before.I was looking forward to a year or two in your company, but I am told that thatis more than I can expect. There is a certain young man----"

"You are speaking of Walter," Vera murmured. A little colour crept into hercheeks. Her eyes were bright and smiling. "Positively there has been no time totell you about Walter. Do you know, mother, that Walter and myself have beenlovers ever since I was fourteen? There has never been anybody like Walter in myeyes. And then, a few months ago, it seemed to come to me in a different wayaltogether. I suppose when I came to years of discretion I could see things moreplainly. But how could I marry Walter when I had no name of my own? I felt surethat Lord Ravenspur would be sternly opposed to anything of the kind. And thatis why I wanted to leave his house and earn my own living. But now that I am aFlavio, that is a different matter. We are quite as well born as the Ravenspurs,and so far as my guardian is concerned----"

"The path is smooth enough now," the Countess smiled. "Lord Ravenspur told mejust now that he was delighted with the turn of events. There is no girl heknows he would rather have for a niece than yourself. But I wasn't going to saythat, Vera. What I want to impress upon you is this--I am not going to standbetween you and your happiness for a moment. If your lover wants you now, go tohim and don't consider me. Take your happiness when you get the opportunity. Letme before I die see one Descarti, at least, who has her heart's desire. And nowwe won't say any more about it, my child. After all, I am better treated than Ideserve."

The dusk was beginning to fall at length. The garden was fragrant with thescent of flowers, holding their heads high to reach the dropping dew. It was awarm evening, and the French windows in the dining-room were widely open. Dinnerwas almost over. The table was littered with fruit. There was just thesuggestion of scented tobacco smoke hanging on the air. Ravenspur sat chattingalmost gaily with the Countess and her sister. The gloom had lifted from hisface now. He appeared to be years younger during the last few days. Vera rosefrom her chair and stood by the window, drinking in the subtle delights of theevening. Walter crossed over to her side, and placed his arm under hers.

"Come outside," he said. "It is a shame to stay indoors a night like this.Besides, I have something important to say to you."

Vera turned and smiled into her lover's face. She had never felt the leastshy or awkward with him--they were too good friends for that. They walked insilence together down the path, with the roses rioting on either side. They cameat length to a little secluded terrace looking over the common. Behind thebracken and the heather the sun was sinking in a track of golden glory. Theafter-light shone in Vera's eyes, and rendered them glorious. Walter turned toher eagerly. He had his arm about her waist now, her head bent towards hisshoulder. It all seemed the most natural thing in the world, the fitting crownto their romance.

"How long is it," Walter asked, "since you wanted to run away and leave us? Iwon't ask you why you wanted to go, because my uncle has told me that. Mydearest girl, there is no occasion for you to blush and look uncomfortable. I amsure that your motives did you every credit. But we will pass over that. We neednever allude to it again. I have spoken to your mother, and what my uncle'sfeelings are you know for yourself. All the dangers and troubles have gone now.Everything lies fair and smooth between us. And now, little Vera, when are we tobe married?"

Vera turned slowly and thoughtfully. She laid her hands upon Walter'sshoulders, and looked steadily and lovingly into his smiling eyes. Her wordswere low and sweet.

"Dear old boy," she said, "we have always been friends, and more thanfriends, and in my heart of hearts I have ever felt that it must come to this,whatever obstacles stood in the way. I am not so brave as I thought I was,Walter, and I don't believe I could have left you when it came to the pinch. Oh,I'll marry you, dear; I'll marry you gladly and willingly, and be the happiestgirl in all the world. But not yet; not till our time is up here; not till Ihave spent the next two months with my mother. And you won't love me any theless because I have thought of her as well as you?"

"It shall be as you say, sweetheart. And now let us go back, and tell theothers all about it."

"There is only one thing that remains," Walter said, as he and Lord Ravenspurwalked up and down after dinner, with their cigars. "That photo, uncle. The onethat you were so worried about, in the studio on the night when Sir James wasattacked by Silva in mistake for you. Where did it come from, and why did itagitate you so?"

"I had almost forgotten that," Ravenspur smiled. "Well, that photo was tied,with a small packet of jewels, round Vera's neck when I carried her away fromItaly. I did not know till lately that it was a photo of her mother. She musthave been a lovely woman then. Being an artist, I rather idealised thatphotograph--indeed, I painted the picture that Silva stole from it. It was onlywhen the picture was finished that I discovered I had made a very stronglikeness to Vera; and then I had my doubts. Here was Vera's mother in the fleshagain. Had I done wrong? Had Flavio deceived me? The thing has troubled myconscience ever since. A woman with a face like that to be a fiend! Never. Andyet----

"Still, it is all over now. There have been faults on all sides, so that wecan all afford to forget and forgive. And that, my dear boy, is all I have tosay."

THE END.

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CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.	At Whose Hand?
CHAPTER II.	No. 1 Fitzjohn Square.
CHAPTER III.	The Mark Of The Beast.
CHAPTER IV.	A Woman's Face.
CHAPTER V.	Vera Rayne.
CHAPTER VI.	A Voice in the Dark.
CHAPTER VII.	The Yellow Hand-bill.
CHAPTER VIII.	The Mystery Deepens.
CHAPTER IX.	The Confidential Agent.
CHAPTER X.	Ropes of Sand.
CHAPTER XI.	The Express Letter.
CHAPTER XII.	A Speaking Likeness.
CHAPTER XIII.	A Striking Likeness.
CHAPTER XIV.	Retrospection.
CHAPTER XV.	Dallas Makes A Discovery.
CHAPTER XVI.	Strong Measures.
CHAPTER XVII.	Looking Backwards.
CHAPTER XVIII.	After Many Years.
CHAPTER XIX.	Carlotta's Story.
CHAPTER XX.	Valdo in a New Light.
CHAPTER XXI.	To Be In Time.
CHAPTER XXII.	The Worth of a Name.
CHAPTER XXIII.	The Next Move.
CHAPTER XXIV.	A Blood Relation.
CHAPTER XXV.	Bred in the Bone.
CHAPTER XXVI.	A Faithful Servant.
CHAPTER XXVII.	Flight!
CHAPTER XXVIII.	Vera's Warning.
CHAPTER XXIX.	The Message.
CHAPTER XXX.	Lost!
CHAPTER XXXI.	A Missing Link.
CHAPTER XXXII.	What Does It Mean?
CHAPTER XXXIII.	The Midnight Message.
CHAPTER XXXIV.	A Strange Home-coming.
CHAPTER XXXV.	Mother and Child.
CHAPTER XXXVI.	In the Dead of Night.
CHAPTER XXXVII.	An Unexpected Friend.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.	In the House.
CHAPTER XXXIX.	The Hound Again.
CHAPTER XL.	Broken Wings.
CHAPTER XLI.	A Ray of Light.
CHAPTER XLII.	Run To Earth.
CHAPTER XLIII.	The Whole Truth.
CHAPTER XLIV.	The Story of a Crime.
CHAPTER XLV.	Count Flavio's Diary.
CHAPTER XLVI.	A Woman's Heart.
CHAPTER XLVII.	The Passing of the Vengeance.