The stolid, welltrained servants accepted the explanation of the broken door quite as a matter of course. And when Vera had come 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 to his 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 was no easy matter to preserve a cheerful and unconcerned face at the breakfast table, but he seemed to manage it all right. He was just a little quiet and subdued, but then there was nothing remarkable about that, especially in view of Lord Ravenspurs feelings on the subject of his engagement to Vera. The day dragged on, and Walter waited with what patience he had till the evening. He was not displeased to find that Vera was dining out with some friends in Sloane Square, for this would give him the opportunity he needed. He changed his dinner jacket presently for an old tweed coat and cap. Then he set out on his errand in Vauxhall Bridge Road. Walter was not alone on this occasion, for he was accompanied by a journalist friend whose particular study was the life and habits of the lower classes. It was this friend who had suggested the advisability of the humble garb, so that they could thus mix freely with the people around them. Walter congratulated himself upon his friends prudence when he saw the class of audience that filled the Imperial Palace Theatre. The place was large enough, and by no means lacked artistic finish. At one time it had been an actual theatre, run by some enthusiast with a view to the elevation of the masses and the production of highclass plays at popular prices. The experiment had ended in a ghastly failure, and now a shrewd, hardheaded publican in the neighbourhood was making a fortune by the simple expedient of giving his patrons exactly what they required. What part of the house shall we try? Walter asked. We cant do better than the pit, Venables replied. That will cost you sixpence, or perhaps, if you like to be extravagant, we can have a box for halfacrown. Still, we dont want to make ourselves conspicuous. The pit is quite good enough for me. You can smoke here, you know, and drink too, for the matter 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 their seats. The audience for the most part were respectable enough, but the whole place reeked with perspiring humanity, and the air was pungent with the smell of acrid tobacco. A constant fusillade of chaff went on between the stage and the audience. Indeed, the artistes, for the most part, appeared to be on the most friendly terms with the habitus of the theatre. A drearylooking comedian was singing one of the inevitable patter songs, full of the feeble allusions to drink without which songs of that kind never appear to be complete. The audience listened stolidly enough. Are they never going to tire of this kind of thing? Walter asked his companion. Is there nothing humorous in the world outside the region of too much beer? These people sadden me. Oh, they are all right, Venables said, cheerfully. They are quite happy in their own particular way. I have long ceased to look for anything fresh on the music hall stage. An original artist and an original manner wouldnt be tolerated. The dreary song came to an end at length; then it was followed by two socalled sisters, who, in short skirts and large picture hats, discoursed of the joys of country life in a peculiarly aggressive Cockney accent. The whole thing was dull and depressing to the last degree, and Walter began to regret his loss of time. He noticed from his programme that Valdo was down rather late, so there was nothing for it but to possess his soul in patience till the time came. It was a little past ten oclock before the stage was cleared, and the attendants, in their grimy uniforms, began to erect a series of fine wires running from the roof to the floor. Then there was an extra flourish from the aggressive orchestra, and a slim man, dressed entirely in black, came on to the stage. He was received with great enthusiasm and the smiting of glasses upon the tables. Evidently Valdo had established himself as a firm favourite with the patrons of the Imperial Palace Theatre. All Walters apathy had vanished, as he turned to the stage and scrutinised the acrobat long and carefully. So far as he could judge, Valdo was no Englishman with a foreign name, but a genuine foreigner, presumably of Italian birth. The man was not tall or particularly broad, but he was well proportioned, and gave the idea of one possessed of considerable physical strength. In particular, Walter noticed how long his arms were, and how the muscles stood out between his shoulders. As to the rest, the man looked mild enough, and his dark Southern face was wreathed in an amiable smile. He proceeded, with the aid of an attendant, to fasten two small curved canvas frames to his shoulders. These he thrashed up and down with his arms much as a cock 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. Thats clever, Venables exclaimed. It looks to me as if our friend has solved the art of the flying machine. But one never knows. I daresay it is no more than some ingenious trick. This speech appeared to be resented by a respectablelooking mechanic who was occupying the next seat to Venables. Nothing of the kind, the man said indignantly. Ive been here three nights now, and I know something about mechanics, too. If you think that wires are used you are just mistaken. A friend of mine is stage carpenter here, and he told me all 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 he had risen, and a tremendous outbreak of applause followed. When the din had died away, the stage manager came forward and invited any of the audience who chose to come up and see for themselves that everything was fair and legitimate, and that no mechanism had been employed. The intelligent mechanic turned to Venables with a defiant smile. Now is your chance, guvnor, he exclaimed. You go and smell it out for yourself. Venables would have declined the offer, but already Walter had risen eagerly from his seat. The opportunity was too good to be missed. Though he did not associate this man Valdo with the mysterious attack on Lord Ravenspurs life, he felt quite convinced that the artist was indirectly concerned in it. To waste a chance would be the height of folly. A moment or two later the two friends were on the stage. They stood there whilst the performer went through another series of graceful performances, but they could see absolutely nothing which suggested mechanical contrivance of any kind. The whole act came to an end at length, and Valdo stood there bowing and smiling when his wings were removed. Lets have a chat with him, Venables whispered. Apart from the thing being decidedly 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. He was not insensible to the value of a good advertisement. He suggested a move to his private office, where it would be possible for the visitors to interview quietly. Nothing I should like better, Walter said eagerly. Perhaps you will come with us, and join us in a bottle of champagne? They made their way behind the stage to a dingy little room, insufficiently lighted with one gas jet. The back of the stage was in a turmoil. It was almost impossible to hear for the din. Then very briefly and modestly Valdo told his history. He had found out his peculiar powers by a series of experiments with the parachute. The whole secret lay, he explained, in the enormously powerful muscles between his shoulders and the backs of his arms. The rest was worked by the amazing rapidity with which he had learnt to move his arms. So far the thing was effective enough, but the strain was so great that, hitherto, he had found it impossible to rise to a height of more than forty feet. This naturally prevented him from obtaining engagements in the larger theatres and halls where so limited a flight would have been far less imposing than it appeared to be when performed in a place like the Imperial Palace. There was nothing more to be said, and the two friends were turning away when a woman put her head into the door, and looked inquiringly at Valdo. He muttered something to the effect that he 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 the intruder. 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 a moment, but that moment had been enough for Lance. IX The Confidential Agent All that evening and most of the next day Walter brooded over his startling discovery. He said nothing to anybody about it, though he had attempted the night previously to follow up the clue. The attempt had failed, however, for though 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 for it now but to wait and see what was going to happen. Meanwhile, public interest in the Fitzjohn Square tragedy had not abated in the least. Everybody was waiting eagerly enough for the inquest, which was to open at four oclock on the day following the mysterious attack upon Lord Ravenspur. The latter had come down somewhat late in the morning, looking but little the worse for his adventure. It was not expected that the inquest would be more than formally opened, and it was generally known that Lord Ravenspur would be an important witness. In view of the extraordinary interest taken in the affair the proceedings had been moved to a public hall. Long before the time arranged for opening the hall was packed to its utmost capacity. After the police and medical evidence had been taken, the first witness called was Lord Ravenspur. His fine, picturesque figure stood out in the strong light. He gave his evidence clearly and well, though his voice shook from time to time with emotion, which was only natural 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 Fitzjohn Square, and how he had been at work on a picture there until such time as the lights were extinguished and he was forced to abandon his task. You thought nothing of the lights going out? the coroner asked. You saw nothing suspicious in that? Well, no, the witness replied. You see, it is no unusual occurrence for the supply of electric light to fail. The thing so easily happens. As the house has been empty for some time it occurred to me that perhaps there was a fault somewhere, or, perhaps, the workmen had not quite finished their job. Quite so, the coroner observed. Tell us, did you hear any noise in the house, or any suspicious sounds? Nothing whatever. Until the light went out there was nothing whatever to disturb me. In fact, I was so intent upon my work that I was quite lost to everything else. But you know now, the coroner went on, that the main cable leading to the meter was cut. That being so, somebody must have been in the house at the same time as yourself. What I want to get at is thisthe murderer was deliberately waiting for his victim. He had no quarrel with you, and his great idea was to get you out of the way. That appears to be obvious. It is obvious enough to me, Ravenspur replied. I came to that conclusion directly Inspector Dallas pointed out to me that the main cable had been deliberately cut. But you see I suspected nothing wrong at the time, and there was nothing else for me to do but to abandon my task directly the light went out. I am afraid that I can tell you nothing more. The deceased was a great friend of yours? the coroner asked. I presume you know a great deal about his life and habits. Was he at all the sort of man to make enemies? The last man in the world, the witness said emphatically. My friend was both upright and straightforward. Indeed, I regarded him as a man incapable of a mean action. One or two desultory questions followed, and then Lord Ravenspur sat down. To a 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. The audience thrilled and bent forward eagerly as Mrs. Delahay stood up to give her evidence. She was just as deadly pale, just as calm and set, as she had been when she called upon Ravenspur in Park Lane with the dreadful news. She gave her evidence slowly and distinctly, speaking more like an automaton than a creature of flesh and blood. She told how she had become alarmed at her husbands prolonged absence, how she had gone down to Fitzjohn Square to see if anything had happened, how she found the dead body there, and how the police had come to her assistance. But more than that she could not say, more than that she did not know. So far as she knew her husband had always been a cheerful man. She had never heard him say an evil word of anyone. She had not been married long, in fact she was still a bride. Altogether she had known her husband for a little over three years. She was older than her husband, she proceeded to say. The coroner asked her age. I am fortythree, she said calmly. Really, the coroner murmured politely, I should not have taken you to be so much. I dont wish to ask you anything likely to cause you pain, but does it not occur to you that your husband might have been concealing something? Is it not rather strange that he should leave you at midnight and take an hour and a half in reaching a house to which he might have walked in ten minutes? I dont think so, Mrs. Delahay said. My husband was one of the most open of men. In fact, he was too fond of leaving his letters and private papers about. And as to the rest, he might have met a friend. He might have gone to one of his clubs. If I may be allowed to interrupt a moment, Inspector Dallas said, I may say that we have utterly failed to trace Mr. Delahays movements from the time he left the Grand Hotel till he reached Fitzjohn Square. Not one of his friends appears to have seen him on the night in question. That is rather unfortunate, the coroner murmured. I am sorry to have troubled you so far. You may sit down now. With something which might have been a sigh of relief Mrs. Delahay resumed her seat close to the table. Then Inspector Dallas put forward a witness who gave the name of John Stevens. He looked like a brokendown professional man in his greasy, shabby frockcoat and dingy linen. His watery eye glanced nervously over the court. The red tinge on his cheeks spoke quite plainly of the cause of his downfall. He proceeded to give his evidence so incoherently that the coroner had to reprimand him sharply once or twice. I cant hear half you say, that official said irritably. I think you said your name was John Stevens. What can you tell us about this case? Did you know Mr. Delahay? I knew him quite well, sir, the witness said. I have seen him scores of times when I have been watching in Fitzjohn Square. What do you mean by watching there? Well, sir, you see, I am a private inquiry agent. I work for one of the large firms of detectives, getting up evidence and that kind of thing. For months 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 by sight, and also I have got to know a good deal about their habits. You are a professional spy, then? the coroner asked. Well, sir, if you like to put it like that, the witness said humbly. On the night of the murder about a quarter past one, I was in the Square gardens watching through the railings at the corner of John Street. I could see perfectly well what was going on because there is a large electric arc light where John Street and the Square adjoin. As I said, it was just about a quarter past one, because I looked at my watch to see what the time was. It was nearly time for me to leave, as my instructions The witness broke off abruptly, and glanced about the room with the air of a man who has recognised an acquaintance whom he had not expected to see. His rambling 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 was up, 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 far off to hear what he was saying, but it seemed to me What are you talking about? the coroner interrupted. Do you mean to say that Mr. Delahay was talking to himself? Oh, dear no, sir; he was talking to his companion. Companion! That is the first we have heard of that. Was the companion a man or a woman, might I ask? It was a lady, sir. She was a tall woman dressed in black. They stood opposite 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 to hesitate a few moments, then she followed, and I saw her go into the house after Mr. Delahay. But she will be able to tell you all about it herself. I dont understand you, the coroner said, with a puzzled frown. How can the woman tell us all about it herself? You dont mean to say that she is in court? The witness slowly turned and pointed a dingy forefinger in the direction of Maria Delahay. Thats the lady, sir, he said. Thats the lady that I saw with Mr. Delahay the night before last. But that is absolutely impossible, the coroner cried. Dont you know that that lady is Mr. Delahays wife? X Ropes of Sand Something like a thrill of real excitement ran through the spectators. The remark was made so quietly and in such a natural tone, that nobody dreamt of questioning the word of the witness. Then it went home to all that Stevens was making against Mrs. Delahay what amounted to a serious accusation. All eyes were turned 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 understand what you are saying? Why, of course, sir, Stevens went on, as if absolutely unconscious that his words were creating a sensation. That is the lady whom I saw with Mr. Delahay that night. I daresay she will tell you herself when she comes to give evidence. One moment, please, the coroner went on. How long is it since you identified the lady opposite? The witness looked about him as if he hardly understood the question. He was clearly 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 than that. The coroner murmured something to the effect that there must be a mistake here. Then he turned to the witness again. This is a most important investigation, he said, and I want you to be very careful. 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 her then. Indeed, I didnt, sir, the witness protested. I did not come into court until my name was called outside. The coroner turned sharply to Mrs. Delahay and asked her to be good enough to stand up. She rose slowly and deliberately, and turned her head in the direction of Stevens. A ray of light fell upon her features; they were absolutely dull and expressionless, as if all the life had gone out of her; as if she failed utterly to comprehend what was going on around her. It was only natural that she should have dissented vigorously from Stevens statement. She regarded him without even the suggestion of a challenge in her eyes. As a matter of fact, the man was making a serious charge against hera charge of wilful perjury at the very least, and yet, so far as she was concerned, Stevens did not even appear to exist. Well, what do you make of it? the coroner asked. 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 the house in Fitzjohn Square. Extraordinary! the coroner exclaimed. Mrs. Delahay has already sworn to the fact that she retired to bed at twelve oclock, and that she did not miss her husband till late the next morning; and now you say that you saw her with the murdered man. In the face of Mrs. Delahays evidence, are you prepared to repeat your first statement? A stubborn look came over Stevens face. His watery eyes became more clear and steadfast. I have no object in telling a lie, sir, he said. I came forward in what I considered to be the interests of justice, and at some loss to myself. I am prepared to stand up in any Court of Justice, and take my oath that Mrs. Delahay was with her husband at the time and place I have mentioned. The audience swayed again, for there was something exceedingly impressive in the speakers words. All eyes were turned upon Mrs. Delahay, who seemed at length to gain some understanding of what was going on. There was no sign of guilt or confusion on her face. It was as calm and stony as ever. The speaker is absolutely mistaken, she said. He must have confused me with somebody else. From twelve oclock at night till seven the next morning I was not out of my room. On the face of what has happened, we cannot possibly go any further, the coroner said. After all it will be an easy matter to test the correctness of both witnesses. It is just possible that Stevens has made a mistake. Stevens shook his head doggedly. He felt quite certain that there was no mistake 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 is nothing to be gained by any further investigation till the extraordinary point which has arisen has been settled. The disappointed audience filed out until only a few of the authorities from Scotland 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 to your hotel with you and make a few inquiries. You see, it is absolutely necessary to disprove John Stevens statements. Until we have done that, we cant carry our investigations any further. I hope you will be able to help us in this matter. How can I help you? the woman asked in the same dull, level voice. I tell you that man was mistaken. I am still so dazed and stunned by my loss that I am quite incapable of following things clearly. Something seems to have gone wrong with my brain. But I will try and help you. It is very strange that that man should have made such an extraordinary mistake. Very strange indeed, Dallas murmured. Will you permit me to call you a cab? Now tell me, have you any relations? For instance, have you a sister who is very like you? In one of the most important investigations I ever undertook, I was utterly baffled for months owing to the fact of there being two twin brothers 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 is absolutely true. I suppose you will believe the servants at the hotel? The hotel was reached at length, and Mrs. Delahay excused herself on the ground that she was tired and utterly worn out. So far as Dallas was concerned he had no desire to detain her. As a matter of fact, he wanted to pursue his inquiries alone, and on the production of his card the resources of the establishment were placed at his disposal. Nothing seemed to escape his eye. No detail appeared to be too trivial. He received his reward at length through the lips 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 Fitzjohn Square 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. Delahays bedroom? he asked. What time did you retire on the night of the murder? Not before two oclock, the chambermaid replied. We were unusually late that night as the house was full. Quite so. I suppose when Mr. and Mrs. Delahay came in from the theatre they got the key of their bedroom from the office in the ordinary way? I suppose they had a dressing room and a bedroom? The chambermaid admitted that such was the fact. When asked if she knew what time Mrs. Delahay had retired for the night, she shook her head. She could not be quite sure. You see, it was like this, she said. I was rather interested in Mr. and Mrs. Delahaythey were such a distinguished looking couple. I was in the corridor when Mr. Delahay went out about twelve oclock, and half an hour later I went up to Mrs. Delahays bedroom to see if I could do anything for her. The key was in the door, which struck me as rather strange, because, as you know, in large hotels like this, it is the customary thing for people to lock their rooms. I knocked at the door and no reply came, so I went in. The bed and dressing room were both empty, and thinking, perhaps, that Mrs. Delahay had gone out as well as her husband, I turned the key in the door and took it down to the office. A thoughtful expression came over Inspector Dallas face. That was quite the proper thing to do, he said. I suppose you dont know what time the key was fetched again from the office? Oh, that I cannot tell you. You see, I went to bed about two oclock and I was up again at seven. When I took Mrs. Delahay up her cup of early tea she was in bed then. Really! Did you notice anything strange about her? 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 the effect 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 in the least out of the common. I think that will do, Dallas observed. I wont detain you any longer. I know how busy you are. Dallas went straight away downstairs and interviewed the clerk in the office. The latters memory was a little vague on the subject of the coming and going of the 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 the office every time they went out. The speaker had no recollection of Mrs. Delahay calling for her key very late on the night of the tragedy. He debated the point thoughtfully for a moment, then his face lighted up. I think I can help you, he exclaimed. XI The Express Letter Take your time, Dallas said, encouragingly. I dont want to hurry you. All I want are facts. It is beginning to come to me now, the clerk said thoughtfully. Yes, I remember it quite distinctly. You see, Madam Leona Farre, the great French actress, is staying in the house, and she did not come in till just two oclock. 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 her room. Oh, indeed, Dallas said softly. She had just come in, I suppose? Had she taken off her things? No, the clerk said. She had just come in from the street. I had to explain to her how it was that the key had found its way back into the office again. She did not appear to be annoyed at that? Not in the least. Indeed, she seemed to be rather amused at her own carelessness. No, I saw nothing suspicious in her manner. I think that is all I can tell you. Possibly, Dallas said. But there is one other little matter in which you may be of assistance. I suppose you can recollect the night that Mr. Delahay left the hotel. Did he happen to ask for letters or anything of that kind? It would 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. Delahay was going out a messenger boy brought an express letter for him, which he read hastily, and then asked the hall porter to call him a cab. No, I cant say that the message disturbed him at all, but it seemed to hurry him up a bit just as a telegram might have done. That was the last I saw of him. On the whole Inspector Dallas was not disposed to be dissatisfied with his mornings work. He had discovered some important facts, and, at any rate, it had impressed the detective with the truth of John Stevens evidence. As to the rest, it would not be a difficult matter to find out the name and number of the messenger boy who had brought the unfortunate Delahay that letter. There was nothing for it now but to take a cab and go off in the direction of the district office whence the messenger boy had come. As Dallas walked briskly down the steps 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 volunteered this morning. But, of course, he was mistaken. It is absolutely impossible that Mrs. 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 dont know what to make of it. At any rate, I have discovered an absolute fact that for two hours, between twelve and two, Mrs. Delahay was not in the hotel. I have it on the independent testimony of two witnesses who corroborate one another down to the minutest detail. I dont know what to make of it. All the healthy colour left Ravenspurs face. This is amazing, he said. Yet I cannot believe that Mrs. Delahay has been deliberately 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 dont know why not, Dallas said after a thoughtful pause. You see, she is bound to know sooner or later. And I hope you will make her see the advisability of accounting for her movements. Nothing can be gained by trying to deceive us, to say nothing of the wrong impression which Mrs. Delahay is creating in the minds of other people. Really, if you come to think of it, she is standing in an exceedingly perilous position, my lord. Ravenspur was not destined to make any impression upon the widow of his unfortunate friend, for she refused to see him. One of the servants came down with a message to the effect that Mrs. Delahay could not see anybody. Even a letter 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 of his own house. For the rest of the afternoon he sat in the library, a prey to his own gloomy thoughts. Visitors came and went, but the same message was given to all of themLord Ravenspur was far from well. He could not see anybody this afternoon. It was nearly seven oclock before Walter Lance came into the library. I am sorry to disturb you, he said, but I have something serious to say to you. I have been reading todays evidence in the Delahay case, and I was so interested in the matter that I went to Scotland Yard and had a chat with Inspector Dallas. It seems to me that Mrs.


Delahay has placed herself in a very compromising position. What do you mean by that? Ravenspur demanded. Surely, my dear uncle, the thing is plain enough. Whatever your opinion of Mrs. Delahay may be you cannot get away from the fact that she was deliberately lying when she gave her evidence this morning. She swore that on the night of the murder she wasnt out of her bedroom after twelve oclock, and we know now that she was away from the hotel for over two hours. You know it, too, because Dallas told you. You will forgive my plain speaking, sir, but I think you could throw some light on this painful tragedy. Believe me, I should not dare to say so much if You are presumptuous, Ravenspur said angrily. Do you dare to insinuate that a man in my position I am not insinuating anything, Walter urged. But I have a feeling we are in some way connected with this tragedy. I have a strange instinct that there is some close connection between the death of Mr. Delahay and that mysterious murderous attack upon you in your studio. Oh, I know that common sense is all against 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 way whereby an assailant could have entered the roomI mean some secret door known only to yourself You can disabuse your mind of that idea, Ravenspur said, with the ghost of a smile. I give you my word that there is nothing of the sort. But go on with your story. Well, I couldnt find any means of entrance and exit except by the door, and then it occurred to me that I might possibly light upon a clue. Finally I found this lying on the floor, and I should like you to read it. You may find it interesting. With these words Walter took from his pocket the dingy yellow handbill, and laid it open on the table so that Ravenspur might read. The latter glanced at the 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 of that kind. You never heard of Valdo before, then? Walter asked. Not I, my dear boy. Who is the fellow? He is a kind of flying man. He is an individual with extraordinarily developed arms and muscles. He can move those arms almost as quickly as a fly does in its flight; with the aid of specially prepared wings he can flutter about a stage like a bird. I daresay there is some secret behind it all, but still the performance is very graceful and attractive, though, as yet, the man tells me his flight is limited to some thirty feet. He tells you! Ravenspur exclaimed. Do you mean to say that you have actually paid a visit to this theatre? Certainly I have, sir. You see, I regarded this bill as a kind of clue. I knew that you could not possibly have brought it into the house, nor were any of your friends likely to do so. Therefore I came to the not illogical conclusion the other night that your assailant must have dropped it. The man who got into the studio must have been an extraordinary climber or something exceedingly clever in the way of an acrobat. In fact, just the sort of fellow who would be connected with music halls and circuses and places of that kind. That is why I went down to the Imperial Palace Theatre together with a journalist friend of mine who takes an interest in such matters. The only item of the entertainment worth watching was this man Valdo, and, of course, up to a certain point I did not identify him with the outrage upon yourself. Why should you do so now? Ravenspur asked. I told you that I have never seen 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 the performance that I went round to Valdos dressingroom afterwards, and had a long chat with him. Just before I came away a woman looked into the room, and asked the performer if he was ready, or something of that kind. She did not notice me; indeed, she did not even look in my direction. It was only just for a moment that I caught a glimpse of her face. It was only by a great effort that I concealed my feelings. And when I tell you that the woman I am speaking about was Mrs. Delahay Impossible! Ravenspur cried in great agitation. The thing is absolutely incredible. I cannot believe it. Nevertheless, I am stating nothing but the truth, Walter said. As sure as I am standing here I saw Mrs. Delahay. And now you know why I am sure that there is something more behind this than has yet come to light. XII A Speaking Likeness It was some little time before Lord Ravenspur replied. For a moment or two he seemed to be bereft of the gift of speech. It sounds almost incredible, he managed to stammer at length. You are absolutely certain you are not mistaken? No, I am not mistaken. Mrs. Delahays face is far too striking a one to be taken for that of anybody else. Of course, I am not asking you to give me any information. I am not seeking to pry into your secrets; but this mystery maddens me. The most extraordinary part of the whole affair is thisfor three years on and off I have known Mrs. Delahay intimately. I saw a great deal of her in Florence, also in Paris last year. And she has always given me the impression of being absolutely straightforward and single minded. And now, for some reason or another, she has taken it into her head to tell deliberate lies which appear to have no point or meaning. If she had only said that she went to call upon a friend after her husband had gone out, no further question would have been asked. Of course, I had not forgotten the evidence of the man Stevens. I must confess I should like to see him and ask him a few pointed questions. But apart from all that, you must see the necessity of getting Mrs. Delahay to tell the truth. It is just possible that she is shielding somebody. It is just possible that the whole thing is capable of explanation. But of that you are the best judge. It is a miserable business altogether, Ravenspur groaned. I am obliged to you for the straightforward way in which you have told me everything, and I will do my best with Maria Delahay. She refused to see me this morning, but I will go round after dinner and make another attempt to get an interview. It was somewhat later in the evening that Walter looked up his friend Venables again. As he expected, he found the journalist to be greatly interested in the Delahay case. Walter had debated the matter over in his mind. He could see no harm in telling Venables what he had discovered. It is certainly a curious case, the latter remarked. And professional interests apart, I should like to get to the bottom of this mystery. But I see you 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; and it seems to me that we might get a good deal out of the witness John Stevens. He is the sort of man who would do anything for money, and a sovereign or two ought to loosen his tongue. I dont 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 a clean and honourable one. But then you never can tell. What is a man like that doing to make an enemy, who is prepared to run the risk of being hanged for killing him? And why does he want to go round to his studio at such an hour in the morning? I thought of all that, Venables said grimly. Depend upon it, your unfortunate friend had some secret chapters in his life of which the world will probably never know anything. But what has all this got to do with that fellow Stevens? I was just coming to that point. If I had been the coroner I should have asked Stevens a great many more questions this morning. As it was, the authorities seemed content to let him go after he had given evidence to the effect that he had seen Mrs. Delahay with her husband. He told the court that he had been prowling and spying about Fitzjohn Square for some months, and he gave a pretty plain hint to the effect that he could tell a story or two about some of the inhabitants there. Now, for six months or more before Delahay went to Florence to be married, he lived a bachelor life at this house; and all this time Stevens was prowling about the neighbourhood after dark. It is not a very pleasant thing to have to do, but I should like to talk the matter over with Stevens and see if he can give us any information as regards Delahay. If you will telephone to Scotland Yard and get them to give you Stevens address, we will go round to his rooms and interview him at once. It was no difficult matter to get the address in question, and presently the two friends reached the shabby house in the dingy street where Stevens lived. An exceedingly dirty child informed the visitors that Mr. Stevens was out at present, but that he always left his whereabouts behind him in case he might be required professionally. At the present moment, the precocious child informed the strangers, Mr. Stevens could be found at the Imperial Palace Theatre in Vauxhall Bridge Road. That is a bit of a coincidence, Venables remarked. However, we cant do better than go down to the theatre. There was some little trouble in finding Stevens, and the performance was nearly 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 somewhat unsteady gait; though, since the morning, his wardrobe had undergone a decided change for the better. The greasy, seedy frockcoat had vanished. Also the dilapidated silk hat. In fact the man looked quite prosperous. I would suggest that we dont speak to him in here, Venables said. Let us follow him out into the road. Walter fell in at once with the idea. In the road Stevens paused as if waiting for somebody, and presently from the stage door there appeared the slim, graceful figure of Valdo. For some moments the two men stood in earnest conversation together, and from their attitude it was plainly evident that they were 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 passed a coin or two over to his companion. Stevens was understood to say something to the effect that that would suffice for the present. Then he lounged off down the road and paused presently before a publichouse which glittered invitingly opposite. Catch him before he goes in there, Venables whispered hurriedly. If the fellow has any more to drink he will be perfectly useless to us for the rest of the evening. Stevens turned suspiciously as Walter spoke to him. I think your name is Stevens, the latter said. My friend here is a journalist and is greatly interested in the Fitzjohn Square mystery. We have been reading your evidence of this morning, and have come to the conclusion that you may be able to afford us some useful information. If you will answer a few questions we will make it worth your while. To the extent of a couple of sovereigns, Venables put in. Then I am your man, Stevens exclaimed with alacrity. Perhaps you wouldnt mind coming round as far as my rooms. I have got a pretty poor memory for things, so I always jot everything down in my diary. I put everything down pretty well, because you never know what information is likely to be useful. I once made fifty pounds out of the simple fact that I saw a footman reading some postcards he was posting. Since then I have neglected no trifles. What we want, Walter explained, is all you can tell us about Mr. Louis Delahay. You know him very well by sight, and you must be acquainted with some of his habits. Stevens laughed knowingly, and nodded his head. I could open your eyes about a few of them in that neighbourhood, he said. I havent been loafing about Fitzjohn Square all these months for nothing. If I were a blackmailer, which I am not, I could live on the fat of the land. That is too 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. He chattered away glibly until his rooms were reached. Then with a flourish he opened the door and invited his visitors to enter. He apologised for the fact that he had nothing whereon to entertain the strangers, which apology was duly accepted. It was, perhaps, on the whole, a fortunate thing that Stevens cellar was 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 my bedroom and get my diary. I suppose pretty well all you want to know has happened quite lately. It is the last six months with which we are chiefly concerned, Walter explained. Before that does not matter. Stevens turned away and closed the door behind him. He was gone some little time, so that his visitors had ample opportunity to take stock of their surroundings. There was nothing in the place of any value except a small circular picture in a handsome frame, depicting a beautiful face, which was evidently the work of some artist of repute. The painting was so glaringly out of place that it immediately attracted Venables attention. How did that get here? he asked. My word, you may well ask that, Walter cried in surprise. Here is another amazing discovery! You remember my uncle being robbed of some pictures a few years ago, one of which he declared was the best thing he had ever done? You dont mean to say, Venables exclaimed, that, that Indeed, I do, Walter said under his breath. I declare to you that the painting hanging up there is the one which my uncle always considered his masterpiece. XIII A Striking Likness Venables regarded the painting with deep interest. All his journalistic instincts were now aroused. It appeared to him that he was on the eve of tapping a perfect gold mine of sensational copy. Now are you quite sure you are not making a mistake? he asked. You have not been misled by some chance likeness, because this is rather an important matter for me. My people expect smartness, but they have a rooted objection to mistakes. I tell you there is no mistake here, Walter Lance said definitely. I am prepared to swear that that portrait was painted by my uncle. Of course, you remember the sensation there was at the time when the pictures were stolen. They vanished from the studio in the most mysterious fashion. Two of them were of comparative unimportance, but yonder work my uncle reckons to be the best thing he has ever done. And I quite agree with him. A portrait, I suppose? Venables asked. Well, my uncle always denies it. He says the face is more or less a fancy one. And while he is prepared to admit that it is coloured by recollection, he says it is not intended for anybody in particular. But I can see a likeness there. Of course you can, and a very strong one, too, Venables exclaimed. Do you mean to tell me that your uncle cannot see that that picture is Miss Vera Rayne? That is the point I have put to him more than once. He says he cant see it at 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 be only on the fringe of this mystery! It occurs to me that the thief who stole that picture did not steal it for the mere sake of gain, but merely because it is what it is. No doubt the other two works were merely stolen as a blind. I dont wish to appear curious, my dear fellow, but what relation is Miss Rayne to Lord Ravenspur or yourself? Ah, that I cant tell you, Walter replied. Strange as it may seem, my uncle has always refused to say anything about Miss Raynes antecedents. All I know 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. It wouldnt 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 notebook in his hand. He started uneasily as Venables literally fired the question at him. But there was no time for the man to prevaricate. It doesnt belong to me, he said. As a matter of fact, it is the property of a man who used to lodge with me some time ago. Well, it is a very fine piece of work, Venables said, in a matteroffact voice. I suppose your friend is a poor man; otherwise he would not live in a place like this. Do you think he would like to sell the picture? Stevens replied, with obvious confusion, that he could not say. His friend was not an Englishman, and where he was to be found at that moment Stevens could not 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 to Walter. He wondered why he had not thought of it before. His mind went swiftly back to the moment in the studio when Lord Ravenspur had appeared so disturbed over the unexpected finding of the photograph by one of his guests. Here was the photo idealised. Could there be any connection between the thief of the picture and Lord Ravenspurs midnight guest? Perhaps I can stimulate your memory, he said. Isnt your friend an Italian? Hasnt he got something to do with the variety stage? Come, you can answer my question; surely it is an easy one. Isnt your friend in London at the present moment? Stevens stammered and hesitated. There was something like fear in his eyes as he glanced furtively at the questioner. Lance felt quite sure that he was on the right track now. Now, look here, he said. We have come on important business, and if you refuse 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 why you shouldnt put a fivepound note in your pocket. Now isnt that picture the property of a man named Valdo who is at present under engagement at the Imperial Palace Theatre? Now, yes or no. I dont know how you found it out, Stevens said, wriggling about uncomfortably. But it is true enough. Valdo was living with me about three years ago. He came back one night with the picture in his possession. Not in a frame, I suppose? Lance asked. He brought it rolled up. The frame was put upon it a day or two later by Silva himself. Silva! Venables exclaimed. I thought his name was Valdo. That is his stage name, Stevens explained. You see, Silva had not come to England very long. He was very poor then, and I understood that he was looking for some Englishman, who had promised him employment whenever he crossed the Channel. Was the Englishman ever found? Lance asked. That I cant tell you, Stevens went on. Silva is very close about his own affairs, and I believe that he belonged to some secret society. He told me the picture had been painted for him by a clever compatriot of his, who was trying to make a name for himself. Of course, it was nothing to me, and I asked no questions about it. When Silva went away to fulfil an engagement up in the North, he asked me to take care of the portrait, and it has been hanging on the wall opposite ever since. I hope there is nothing wrong about it. Indeed there is, Lance said significantly. Now, if you would like to help us, we will make it worth your while. If you dont, why, it is more than possible that you may find yourself in an awkward position. I dont mind telling you that that portrait was painted by Lord Ravenspur, and that it was stolen one night from his studio some three years ago. Stevens gave a sudden start. I recollect it, he cried; I recollect it perfectly. I remember that there was a great outcry at the time, and that a large reward was offered for the recovery of the pictures. Lord, if I had only known. And to think that all this time That reward would have been yours, Venables smiled grimly. You would not have allowed your friendship for this man Silva Friendship! Stevens said contemptuously. What is friendship where money is concerned? And, after all, Silva was no real pal of mine. Precious little use he was to me. Oh, youll find us useful enough if you play your cards correctly, Venables said. We happen to know that you are on good terms with this man Valdo, or Silva, 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 our side. Therefore, you will see the advantage of saying nothing to this Italian about our visit here tonight. Here is a fivepound note to go on with, and if I want you again, as is exceedingly probable, I will write to you and tell you where to meet me. I dont think we need detain you any more at present. Then you dont 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, and remember that silence is your policy. Stevens grinned and nodded as he tucked the fivepound note into his waistcoat pocket. His recent visitors went off together in the direction of Venables 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 any connection with the stolen pictures? To my mind, your question was almost an inspiration. Well, hardly that, Lance proceeded to explain. But, first of all, let me tell you the events which led up to our discovery tonight. I think you ought to know. I am quite sure that the secret is safe in your hands. Now listen, carefully. Venables listened carefully enough to Walters extraordinary story of the strange photograph, and of the mysterious attack on Lord Ravenspur in his studio, and the subsequent discovery of the yellow handbill. In the light of these disclosures everything was perfectly plain to a mind so astute as that of Venables. He shook his head gravely. This looks like a vendetta, he said. You may depend upon it that Miss Vera Rayne is the unconscious cause of all the mischief. Of course, I am treading on delicate ground now, but I suppose it is just possible that Miss Rayne may be Lord Ravenspurs daughter. We know that Ravenspur used to spend a great part of his time in Corsica, and everybody is aware of the fact that lovemaking out there is a dangerous business. It looks very much to me as if this man Valdo was working out a plan of revenge, either on his own behalf, or on behalf of some noble family, hailing from that picturesque corner of Europe. My theory is further strengthened by the mysterious way in which these things have come about. See how anxious your uncle is to keep everything out of the hands of the police. I feel quite sure now that the death of Louis Delahay is all part of the same drama. It wouldnt be a bad plan to mention Luigi Silvas name to your uncle, and ask him if he has ever heard of the man before. That is a good idea, Walter exclaimed. Ill ask my uncle the question before I go to bed tonight. XIV Retrospection Most of the lights in the houses in Park Lane were out when Walter reached his uncles residence. But as he entered the hall he could see that the studio was still ablaze. The door was closed, but a thin shaft of light penetrated from beneath. 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 later Ravenspur turned the key. His face was pale. There was in his eyes a look which spoke of some vague fear. I hope I am not disturbing you, Walter said. My dear boy, I am only too pleased to have a companion, Ravenspur said eagerly. Upon my word, my nerves are so much shaken by these terrible happenings 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 he fail to note the presence of a stand of spirits, which was a thing in which his uncle 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 down into a comfortable armchair, and one of my discoveries has been really remarkable. To be perfectly candid, Venables and myself have been doing a little private detective business together. Venables was by no means satisfied that that fellow Stevens had told all he knew at the inquest on poor Delahay, so we hunted Mr. Stevens up, and finally ran him to earth in his dingy lodgings. And did he give you any valuable information? Ravenspur asked eagerly. Was it worth your while? Indeed, it was, as you will see for yourself, sir. As soon as ever we got into the room I was struck by a picture there. One does not usually find great works of art in a bedsitting room at five shillings a week. And when you see a picture like that, worth a couple of thousand pounds at least, it naturally arouses your curiosity. And when, on the top of that, the picture is perfectly familiar to you, why, my dear uncle You mean you had seen the picture before? Where? In this very studio; you painted it here, sir. It is one of the three pictures which were stolen from you some time ago. Oh, you need not shake your head, uncle. I assure you that I have not made the slightest mistake. I leave you to guess which of the three pictures it was that I saw in that dreary bedsitting room. I think I can tell you, Ravenspur groaned. It was the fancy portrait. Some instinct tells me so. You are quite right, sir, Walter went on. It was the portrait, surely enough. But it did not belong to Stevens, as you will probably have guessed by this time. It had been left in his care by an Italian friend, who gave a very plausible reason for being in possession of so valuable a work. I understand that this Italians name was Luigi Silva. Have you heard of him? Lord Ravenspur rose from his chair, and walked agitatedly up and down the studio. It was some little time before he spoke, and then his words came slowly and painfully. I see you know more than I had expected, he said. For instance, you have formed the conclusion that this Luigi Silva stole that picture. In fact, that he came here on purpose to get possession of it, and that he took two other canvases at the same time to prevent us finding out his real motive. Till tonight 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 intended to do. Now I know better. But you did not answer my question, sir, Lance suggested. Oh, yes; you wanted to know if I was personally acquainted with this man. As a matter of fact, I am not, though I have heard far too much about him for my peace of mind. But tell me, how did you manage to ascertain the fellows proper name? That, of course, we got from Stevens, Walter explained. Silva is in England ostensibly as a music hall artist; in other words, he is Valdo, the flying man that I told you about a little time ago. But dont you think we are getting 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 be hovering between two minds. Perhaps it would be wiser if I were to tell you everything, he said. I did not intend to do so, but to a certain extent you have forced my hand, and it would be much more prudent for you to know where you stand. You asked me just now what I knew of this man Silva. Eighteen years ago he was in the employ of a great friend of mine, Count Boris Flavio. My unfortunate friend is forgotten now, but at the time of which I am speaking he enjoyed almost a European reputation. To begin with, he was an exceedingly rich man. He had one of the most beautiful places on the Continent, situated not far from Florence. Had he been poor, Flavio would have shone in any line he chose to take up. He was a fine artist, a notable sculptor, and one or two of his books attracted great attention. In addition to this, he had few rivals as an allround sportsman. His conversation was brilliant, his appearance and manners left nothing to be desired. Out of the scores of notable men I have met in my time, there is not one of them to whom I was so deeply attached as I was to Boris Flavio. His views, his sympathies, his extraordinary grasp of character all appealed strongly to me. So far as I know, he had no secrets from me, and it came almost as a shock one day when I had a letter from him saying that he was about to be married. Naturally one expected such a man to make a brilliant match, but, on the contrary, Flavio chose a wife from people of whom one had hardly heard. On the score of family, Carlotta Descarti had nothing with which to reproach herself. And here comes in the strange part of the affair. The Descartis and the Flavios had estates which touched one another, and between the two families there had been a feud for centuries. It was a veritable Montague and Capulet business, and I daresay it was this factor in the case that so strongly appealed to my friend Flavio. Mind you, I did not learn these facts till long after, and it so happened that circumstances prevented my attending Flavios wedding, and I never saw his wife. Two years later I received an urgent and mysterious message from Flavio to go and see him secretly, and meet him in the grounds of his estate without letting a soul know that I was there.  I never saw a man so changed as my unhappy friend. It appeared that he had married a woman who was a perfect fiend. She had made more than one attempt upon his life, and he felt certain that the end was not far off. When I asked him why he tolerated such a state of things, he told me it was for the sake of his little girl, to whom he was 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 such was the charm and magnetism of the man that I never even hesitated. And this is what I had to do. If anything happened to my friend, if he died mysteriously, I was to go to Italy at once, and, by fair means or foul, get the child away from the 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 was not surprised to hear a few months later that poor Flavio had been found dead in his room. It was proved that he had been poisoned, and suspicion immediately fell upon his wife. On and off, the case lasted three or four years, and caused a tremendous sensation throughout Europe. Beyond all question the wife was guilty enough, but she managed to prove an extraordinary alibi, which so puzzled the jury that they disagreed no fewer than five times. After that the authorities recognised the futility of further proceedings, and the countess was released. What became of her I dont know, for she disappeared, and, as far as I can tell, has never been seen from that day to this. But most assuredly she would have been convicted had it not been for the devotion of a servant of hers whom she had brought from her old home with her. This servants name was Luigi Silva. It was he who saved his mistress. I am firmly convinced it was he who engineered that marvellous alibi, and coached his witnesses so cleverly that there was no flaw in their evidence. I was not present at any of the trials, because I could not manage to get away, but I read enough to convince me that this Luigi Silva had talents and courage far above the common. And the child? Walter asked, with pardonable curiosity.


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 doing right in carrying out my promise to my dead friend. It was not a difficult matter. It only meant a journey to Italy and back, and the little one was in my safe custody. I leave you to guess what that child is called now. Vera Rayne, of course, Walter said. 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 life was not worth much. I knew that I should be tracked and followed, and finally lose my life, even if the search took twenty years. But, gradually, as the time wore on, I became easy in my mind. I had taken the utmost precautions to blind my trail, and the only accomplice I had was my old nurse, who has been dead for some years. Besides, Vera was growing up, and it seemed to me impossible to identify her with the baby not quite two years old. She is not in the least like her father, either, and that is why I made a mistake. I had quite forgotten that she might be very like her mother, and she I have never seen. XV Dallas Makes a Discovery The danger would certainly lie there, Walter said thoughtfully. My dear boy, that is just where the danger comes in, Ravenspur replied. I havent the remotest idea whether Vera is like or unlike her mother, but I fear that she must be, otherwise that man Silva would never have got on my track, as I have felt quite sure lately that he has done. Doubtless in some of his wanderings he has seen the girl, he has recognised the likeness, and made up his mind that he has found the object of his search at last. You see, he has only to make a few inquiries amongst the servants, who would tell him that Vera is my ward, and that, as to the rest, she is more or less of a beautiful mystery. One can 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. Wasnt the portrait exhibited before it came back to the studio again? I seem to remember something of the kind. Of course it was, Ravenspur exclaimed. I had quite forgotten that. Silva must have got his inspiration from the picture. I suppose that is why he made that murderous attack upon Sir James Seton the other night, taking him, of course, for me. But that is not the first warning I have had of the impending danger, and I am afraid it wont be the last. Walter listened to this desponding view with impatience. 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 think it has been a wonderful slice of luck, and we ought to take advantage of it. Surely you couldnt do any less than place the matter in the hands of the police, telling them all that has happened. At any rate, you can do nothing else. They can drive this man Silva out of the country. If I may be allowed a suggestion, you will let Inspector Dallas know without delay. If you dont care to tell him yourself, let me broach the matter. Indeed, it seems my imperative duty to do so. If you fell by the hand of this man now I should feel morally responsible for your death. And, besides, if anything happens to you, what are we going to do about Vera? She is not yet of age. She might at any moment be claimed by her mother, who you say is a perfect fiend. And, besides, though this is a minor matter, I am deeply attached to Vera myself Oh, I know, I know, Ravenspur groaned. The thing is hedged round with troubles 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 been nothing in the way, nobody would have been more delighted at a match like that than myself. But you see the danger, though you little know how deep and farreaching those Corsican vengeances are. How do I know that if you marry Vera you would not be marked down for the same fate as myself? I am prepared to risk that, Walter said grimly. Still, at the present moment, we have far more important things to talk about. And Vera must know nothing of this. My dear boy, of course not. I should never dream of telling her. But sooner or later she must discover everything for herself, I am afraid. I have been thinking over what you said just now, and perhaps it would be as well to let the police know. You will do it at once? asked Walter eagerly. Well, no, I dont propose to do it at all. You have been so clever and coolheaded in this matter that I have decided to leave everything to you. The whole problem is so complicated that I am utterly unable to grasp it. I can see no connection between the two, but I am perfectly certain that the death of poor Delahay is all part of the coil. I feel that, too, Walter said. But we need not concern ourselves about that at present. By the way, have you seen anything of Mrs. Delahay today? She wont see me, Ravenspur replied. She obstinately refuses to see anybody. She remains wilfully blind to the fact that she is in a serious position. You see, she declared in her evidence in chief that she had not been outside the hotel on the night of the murder, and yet on the testimony of three independent witnesses we have it that she was away upwards of three hours. Of course, that man Stevens is a very suspicious character, but he could have nothing to gain by swearing that he saw Mrs. Delahay with her husband very early in the morning in Fitzjohn Square. Moreover, the mans evidence was not in the least shaken. What to make of it I dont know. I wish you would try and see her. You know her far better than I do, because you were a deal in Italy before Delahays marriage, and I think she likes you. Of course, she might have some strong reasons for leaving the hotel and for keeping the thing a secret, and she may be utterly and entirely innocent. But, really she ought to tell her best friends what is the meaning of this mystery. Walter glanced at his watch. It still wanted some minutes to eleven oclock, and it was no far cry to the Grand Hotel. A hansom took him there in ten minutes. Mrs. Delahay had not yet retired for the night, and Walter sent up his card, with a few urgent words pencilled on it. A maid came down presently with the information that Mrs. Delahay would see him for a moment. She came into her sittingroom perfectly calm and selfpossessed, though the deadly whiteness of her face and the scintillating of her eyes told of the torture that was going on within. I wish you would let me help you, Walter said as they shook hands. I wish you would be advised by me. My uncle tells me that you refused to see him altogether. I was bound to, Mrs. Delahay said in a low voice. Oh, I know exactly what you want. I am the victim of a set of extraordinary circumstances. My innocent lie may get me into serious trouble. I am not blind to that knowledge, but at the same time I cannot speak. I must allow people to think the worst. But I swear to you if it is the last word I ever utter, that I was not with my husband. I was not the woman the witness identified as the person he had seen with Louis Delahay in Fitzjohn Square that terrible morning. The words were quietly, almost coldly, uttered, but Walter believed them as he would perhaps have refused to believe a passionate outburst on the speakers part. But surely, he argued, you can give some account of your movements. You can say why you went out and what for? I cannot, Maria Delahay went on in the same even tones. There are the most pressing reasons why I should keep silent. My dear Mr. Lance, I am grateful from the bottom of my heart for all your sympathy and kindness, but nothing can move me from my determination. After all said and done, the police can prove nothing against me. For the rest of my life I shall be a person to be shunned and avoided, but I shall know how to bear my punishment uncomplainingly. And in conclusion, I am quite convinced of thisif I told you everything, you would say that I was perfectly justified in the course I am taking. Further argument is useless. Walter saw the futility of it, too. He saw in the womans averted head and outstretched hand, the sign that he was no longer needed, and that the interview was at an end. By no means satisfied he made his way down to the vestibule intent upon seeing Inspector Dallas without further delay. He was not surprised to 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 to spare, I think I can give you some useful information. I have just been having a long conversation with Lord Ravenspur, and he has asked me to lay certain facts before 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 people keep yourselves au fait with most of the sensational crimes which take place on the Continent? I suppose, for instance, you remember the death by poisoning of Count Boris Flavio, and how his wife was charged no fewer than five times with the crime? Dallas fairly started. That is a most extraordinary thing, he said. I dont mind telling you that within the last day or two, or rather within the last few hours, we have blundered upon a startling light on that crime. It so happens that an Italian detective, who has come here to take a prisoner back to Rome, has interested himself in the Fitzjohn business, more or less because Mrs. Delahay is Italian herself. This detective Berti was not in court during the inquest, but he came round 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 took my breath away. But come with me as far as Scotland Yard and you shall hear him tell the story himself. I wont 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, insinuating manner. This is my friend Berti, Dallas explained. And this, Berti, is Mr. Walter Lance, nephew of Lord Ravenspur. He mentioned the Flavio case to me just now with a view to getting a little information. I told him that you had had the whole business in hand, and you had better let him know that you are in a position 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 the Countess this evening; but she does not call herself countess now. She is Mrs. Louis Delahay. XVI Strong Measures You have made a most extraordinary mistake, Walter said. On and off I have known Mrs. Delahay for some considerable time. I am quite certain that she is no relation whatever to Countess Flavio. And I, sir, am equally positive, the Italian detective replied. I think my friend Inspector Dallas told you just now that I had the Flavio case in hand from the first. Indeed, I have had many conversations with the Countess. So positive am I that I am right that I will be prepared to make an affidavit of the facts. This is very strange, Lance murmured. I cannot but believe that you have been deceived by a strong likeness between two different women. I know all about Mrs. Delahay. She comes from a very good Italian family, though I believe they were poor; they were exceedingly proud and exclusive, and until the death of her parents, Mrs. Delahay lived a life of almost monastic seclusion. Perhaps you wouldnt mind telling me her name? Berti asked. It might facilitate matters. Certainly, Walter Lance replied. Before she was married Mrs. Delahay was Signora Descarti. A peculiar smile flitted over his face. That is assuredly a point in my favour, he said, seeing that Countess Flavio also was Signora Descarti. Lance began to feel less sure of his ground. It appeared to him that the mystery 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 for the last three years on and off, but when he came to think over matters it struck him for the first time with peculiar force that, really, he knew little or nothing of Maria Delahays antecedents. He well recollected the time when Louis Delahay announced his approaching marriage. He recalled that evening perfectly. Delahay had been a selfcontained sort of man, and one of the last persons in the world to associate with matrimony, but he seemed to have found his fate at length, and had quite come out of his shell, discussing his future wife 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 lived such a secluded life. Despite the fact that she was of excellent family, she was earning a precarious living with her brush, and Delahay had hinted that there had been a romance in her early days which had coloured her life. Really, beyond this, Walter Lance had no knowledge of this unhappy womans past, and he did not forget that the Flavio affair was nearly twenty years old. Except by the police, the thing was absolutely forgotten. It was almost impossible that anybody besides these authorities would recognise Carlotta, Countess Flavio, at this moment. 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 in that time. Lance put aside the uneasy thoughts that rose to his mind, and turned to Berti again. That is distinctly a point in your favour, he said. I confess that the fact that both ladies possessed the same maiden name comes as a shock to me. And yet, even now, I cant altogether abandon the idea that this is nothing more than a coincidence. But, tell me, what opinion did you form of Countess Flavios character? The Italian smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Enigma, he said, the woman seemed to be without feeling altogether, from the time that I arrested her until her final acquittal I never knew her display any 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 been deprived of all the emotions, like some people you see who are deeply addicted to the drug habit. I have seen her execrated by a mob of excited people, and taking no more notice of them than if she were deaf. Yes; she was a most extraordinary woman. Did you believe her guilty? Lance asked. Ah, there you puzzle me, Berti replied. Upon my word, I dont know. Opinion was so equally divided; in each case the jury was balanced for and against. Sometimes I thought the woman was guilty, and sometimes I thought she was innocent. Of course, it was that extraordinary alibi which saved her life. There was no getting away from it, for the testimony in the womans favour was given by people who were total strangers to her. On the other hand, all the household servants came forward one after the other, and gave their mistress a very bad name, indeed. On their testimony she would have been executed, without a doubt. If only half they said was true, the Countess Flavio was a fiend. Did no servant testify in her favour? Lance asked. Well, one. And he was a manservant who had accompanied the Countess from her own home. According to his account, his mistress was a perfect angel, and the Count was no more nor less than a disgrace to humanity. This testimony passed for very little, seeing that Count Flavios neighbours and tenants came forward and spoke of him as a man of singular charm and virtue. I have heard that, Lance said, thoughtfully. You see, Lord Ravenspur, my uncle, was a great friend of the Count. I understand that he never met the Countess, 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 of his life. He was very fearful lest his wife should try to destroy him. And now you tell me that the Countess Flavio was no less than the wife of my friend Delahay. I dont know what to think about it. I presume that Inspector Dallas will take steps to assure himself that Mrs. Delahay is the woman you take her to be. Well, yes, Dallas said grimly; I dont see how the matter can rest here. We know perfectly well that Mrs. Delahay was away from her hotel for upwards of two hours on the night of her husbands death. It has been proved that she was seen in his company. And yet, at the first outset, she declares that she has not been outside her bedroom. One doesnt like to come to conclusions; they are fatal things to form in our profession. But it seems to me pretty obvious that there is one person who could clear up this mystery, and she happens to be the dead mans wife. Lance had nothing to say in objection to this. Still, at the same time, there was a haunting doubt in the back of his mind that circumstances were shaping themselves against Maria Delahay apart from any faults of her own. You havent 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 to get away. Indeed, we should take immediate steps to prevent her leaving the country. If she is the guilty party, she will be much more use to us as a free woman than she would be as a suspected criminal under lock and key. But, unless I am mistaken, Mr. Lance, you came here to tell me something. I had clean forgotten all about it, Lance exclaimed. But as it is getting late now, if you dont mind I will leave it till the morning. It is a long story. A few moments later and Lance was retracing his steps in the direction of the Grand 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 him for a moment. In the hall of the hotel he scribbled a hasty note, and sent it up to Mrs. Delahay. A message came down in a moment or two to say that Mrs. Delahay would be pleased to see Mr. Lance. He found her waiting in the sittingroom, just as cold and pale and impassive as before. You have something very important? she asked. Indeed, I have, Lance exclaimed. I want you to believe that I am actuated entirely by the friendliest motives, and if I speak plainly you will understand that I am not wanting in feeling. I have been with Inspector Dallas tonight and he introduced me to an Italian detective whose name is Berti. The latter assures me that his name is quite familiar to you. He is quite mistaken, Mrs. Delahay said in her cold, even voice. I dont know anybody of that name. As to a policeman, I never had the honour of speaking to one in my life. You are quite certain of that? Absolutely. If it were true, what should I have to gain by denying it? If you 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 was wilfully deceiving her questioner. Very well, then, Lance said, I may as well tell you that this man Berti was 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 slightest interest in that kind of thing. So far as this particular case is concerned, I never heard of it before. Lance could only stare in astonishment. She was speaking and acting now just as, according to Berti, the Countess Flavio had behaved before and during the trial. Was she the sport of circumstance, or was she the woman she denied herself to be? XVII Looking Backwards That is very strange, Lance murmured. I am told that the trial in question was the talk of Europe for two or three years. I believe the papers were full of it at the time. And yet you dont seem to have heard of it. Isnt the name of Flavio 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 his companion. A flame of colour stained either cheek; then it was gone, leaving her still more ghastly white than before. I have not told you quite the truth, the woman said; but in twenty years one forgets even the keenest of sorrows. Now I come to think of it, the name of Flavio reminds me of one of the most unhappy experiences in my existence. There was a certain Count Flavio whose estates joined those of my father. For some generations there had been a deep and bitter feud existing between the Flavios and 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 each other the young people on one side being my sister and myself. The intrigue was found out, of course, and for the next ten years I was practically a prisoner in my fathers house. He had a gloomy old fortress somewhere up country, and there I was detained. I might have been there still had my parents lived. And your sister? Lance asked. What of her? Again the woman hesitated. Again the look of pain and suffering swept like a wave across her face. They told me my sister was dead, she murmured. I had to take their word for it. And you believed it? You believe it still? I hope you will pardon me for my persistent questions, but it is quite necessary that I should put them. Do you feel quite convinced? Once more Mrs. Delahay hesitated. Once more she seemed to shrink as if in physical pain. How can I know? How can I tell? she asked. Did I not say that I had been a prisoner all those years? This would account for the fact that I know nothing about that Flavio tragedy. Are you going to tell me that it is one and the same family to whom my sister and myself were attached? Indeed, I do, Lance went on. Your Count Flavio had two sons. When he died his elder son came into the title and estates. That was the man who was afterwards poisoned by his wife; at least, a great many people think so. And his wifes name was Carlotta. Her surname was Descarti. My dear Mrs. Delahay, it is impossible to believe that this is a coincidence. I quite agree with you, Mrs. Delahay said, in a low voice. They seem to have deceived me about my sister, and my parents told me that she was dead. I suppose they meant that she was dead to the family. She must have made her escape, and married her lover after all. I was less fortunate. But what you say absolutely overwhelms me. The man that my sister loved was a splendid specimen of humanity; he was kindhearted and generous; in every sense of the word he was a gentleman. And I can vouch for my sisters many good qualities. To say that she poisoned him is absurd. Why, she simply worshipped him. But, tell me, what opinion 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 your sister was held up to execration as a fiend in human form. One servant after another gave evidence to this effect. They seemed to think that your sister was not altogether sanebut why should I torture you with these details? What I really came here to tell you is this. The Italian detective, Berti, who had the case in hand, is in England at the present moment, and he has seen you. He declares that you are Countess Flavio. You can see how seriously this accusation may tell against youlater on. Lance uttered the last two words reluctantly enough, but Mrs. Delahay saw their full significance. Oh, I know what you mean, she said. You mean that I have placed myself in a perilous position. But there is one thing I can assure youI am not the Countess Flavio. If necessary, when the time comes, I can prove this in a manner which would set even that Italian policemans suspicions at rest. It is very kind of you to take all this trouble on my behalf. I suppose you want me to tell the 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, it was false. I dont mind going as far as that. But more I cannot and will not say, except that I am an innocent woman who has been a prey to cruel misfortune all her life. There was determination as well as sadness in the words. Lance could see that he was merely wasting his time. Think it well over, he said; give it every consideration. I will call and see you again in the morning. No reply came from Maria Delahay. She merely held out her hand, and Lance took his leave without another word. Then the woman dropped into a chair, and covered her face with her hands. Why did Fate persecute her in this way, she asked herself. Why had her life been such a misery for the past twenty years. Surely all this was a terrible price to pay for a childish indiscretion. And yet, though the years had been long and burdensome, it seemed but a brief step back to the happy, sunny days when she and her sister had been children playing in the woods at home and getting every drop of enjoyment out of life. Then they had hardly comprehended the feud that existed between the Descartis and the Flavios. Indeed, they had looked upon it as rather a silly business altogether and a distinct nuisance to mutual friends and neighbours. They had begun to notice, too, that the sons of old Flavio were good to look upon, and finally one day a slight adventure in the woods had thrown the young people together. The thing had begun in a harmless fashion enough. They met again, and yet once more. They fell in the way of discussing the family quarrel and making light of it. From then on the path was pleasant and easy enough, and one day the two girls awoke to the fact that they were both deeply in love with the sons of their hereditary enemy. It was at this point that stern old Descarti discovered the great secret. What happened after that Maria Descarti hardly knew. There was a terrible storm of rage and passion, sleepless nights, and tearbedewed pillows, and then such a life of greyness and despair that the girls had never dreamt of. When at length she ventured courage to ask after her sister, she was told that the latter was dead. She took this statement literally, and she resigned herself to the 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 no knowledge of the world, and nothing to aid her besides her brush and pencil. The struggle was indeed a hard one, and it looked like ending at length when she came 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 he had to expect. Perhaps the prospect of tranquil happiness was far better than the rosy dreams of youth. And all this was now shattered by the unexpected tragedy. Maria Delahay had reached this point in her thoughts; then her mind wandered on 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 for some days, and it had come about in quite a prosaic way. She could see it now quite clearly in her mind. The pleasantmannered chambermaid had come into the sittingroom soon after Delahay had gone out on that fatal evening. She had evidently taken a liking to her visitor. Maria could see her now as she fussed about the room. Is there anything you want? she asked. You seem to have forgotten me, the girl said. I waited upon you when you were 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 came here by yourself, and stayed for the best part of a week. You had very few visitors, and you used to talk to me a good deal.  Only the name is different. You used to have Carlotta, not Maria, on the envelopes I brought up to you. Mrs. Delahay started. With difficulty she restrained her feelings, for the chambermaids innocent words had let a flood of light in a dark place. In the happy old days people were constantly mistaking her for her sister. Was it possible that her sister was still alive? Was it possible that she had been deceived all this time? A little dissimulation might be the means of getting the truth from the voluble chambermaid. You have sharp eyes, she said, and, no doubt, a good memory. How long did I stay here, and where did I go afterwards? It was a little over a week, the girl said. And then you went away to Number Seventeen, Isleworth Road, Kensington. I remember the address because I have a sister in service who used to live next door. Perhaps madam does not want to be remembered? There are many reasons why it is prudent not to know too much. I am glad to see you are so discreet, Mrs. Delahay smiled. There is no reason to mention this to anybody else, you understand? XVIII After Many Years Left alone to herself, Maria Delahay had summed up the situation clearly and logically. Beyond all doubt her sister was still alive. Beyond all doubt Carlotta 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 than even those of her younger sister. It was very strange that Maria should learn the truth in this fashion. It was stranger still that she should discover the house to which Carlotta had gone on leaving the hotel. Up to this moment Maria had no idea of going out herself. She intended to go straight to bed and await her husbands return. Now a strange restlessness came over her. She felt it impossible to remain imprisoned within those four walls. There was no likelihood of Louis Delahays return for the next two hours. Why, then, should she not go out and take a cab as far as Isleworth Road? It was very late, of course, but then London was a late place, and a midnight call no novelty. Allowing herself to act on the impulse of the moment, Maria walked downstairs, and out into the Strand. Hailing a cab, she was driven to Isleworth Road, where she gave orders for the driver to stop. The locality was a respectable one, and there were lights in a good many of the houses; but at number 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 dingy nature of the steps and the tarnished look of the brasswork testified to the fact that neither had received any attention of late. As Maria stood there ringing 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 people are not at home. I think they are coming back at the end of the week, because my instructions to keep a special eye on the house dont go beyond Saturday. Maria thanked the officer and went back in a cab. She would have liked to have 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 a disappointment. In all probability her sister had left London long ago. Maria was thinking all these things over now that Walter Lance had gone. She wondered 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 sleep for thinking of the tragedy. She paced up and down the room in a vain attempt to get away from herself.