The Heart of a Mystery/Chapter 4

ATHER a strange game is this of ours," said Pinheiro to me one afternoon.

I was better again, although still quite the wreck of my former self. I was lying on the balcony in his house and enjoying the delicious air. The tone of his voice as he now spoke startled me, his eyes were gloomy and full of trouble.

"Of course, Phenays, you clearly understand that we are both playing for the same stake," he continued. "Mademoiselle Delacourt is the stake, and we shall get her yet."

I smiled. "I wish I could agree with you," I answered; "but the more I think of that woman, the more she overpowers me, and the more I feel that she will always elude us."

"No," he answered, "not for ever; we shall have her yet." He had scarcely uttered the words before the servant entered the room bearing a letter which was addressed to me and had an English post-mark on it. I opened it hastily and in some fear. Had my lawyer in London bad news to convey? One glance, however, reassured me. The letter was from an old friend of my father's, a certain Sir James Noel, of the War Office. It ran as follows:—

"It is odd," I said, handing the letter across to my friend. "I seem destined to be mixed up with this infernal war. Read the letter, Pinheiro, and tell me what I should do."

Pinheiro read Sir James Noel's communication very quietly. When he came to the end, a grim smile played round the corners of his lips.

"The gods fight for us at last," he said. "This is magnificent!"

"What do you mean?" I cried.

"My dear fellow, if we had arranged the thing it could not have been better. Let me send off a wire for you at once, accepting the offer."

A sudden animation lit up his face and gleamed in his eyes.

"You are thinking of the last sentence in Sir James Noel's letter," I remarked.

"Possibly I am," he answered; "but do you not see for yourself the immense advantage we shall gain by being once more in touch with the enemy?"

"But how shall we be in touch? I fail to understand."

"Judging from information received, I shall be much surprised if Mademoiselle Delacourt is not poking her delicate little thumb into War Office secrets. You must accept, and at once, Phenays."

"But am I justified? Remember, I am wanted by the French Secret Service in connection with supposed war secrets although, of course, I possess none."

"You must tell Sir James everything," was his answer. "What you know may be of the greatest service to the War Office. Now, my dear fellow, do not, I implore you, throw away this great chance of silencing that dreadful woman, perhaps for ever. Remember what it means—your freedom from further persecution, and" (his voice hardened) "I shall have squared my account. Phenays, you must be the mouse to lure the cat in the direction of the trap."

"Thank you! What a cheerful situation! But suppose I get a scratch from her claws?"

"If you trust me, you will run no risks. Now, are you going to accept?"

"I suppose so," I answered after a moment, during which I was thinking hard. "It seems preposterous and unreasonable and a little mad, but no doubt you are right. Will you send a wire for me?"

"Will I?" he replied. "With a thousand congratulations, my good friend. Before Heaven! this fires me with new life." He rushed from the room.

A few hours later I had Sir James's reply. He begged me to take the first possible train to London. The Sud express left Lisbon the next day, and Pinheiro and I arranged to go by it. We sat long into the night discussing our plans, and four days later we found ourselves once again on English soil, embarked in one of the strangest games two men were ever destined to play.

I wired to Sir James to say that I should be in London at midday, and on our arrival at my chambers, to my surprise and delight, I found the good baronet waiting for me.

"Delighted to see you, my boy!" he said, coming forward and grasping my hand. "It is most good of you to come so promptly. Your arrival is the greatest relief to me."

"May I introduce my friend, Senhor Pinheiro?" I said.

Pinheiro bowed and began to talk at once in his excellent and fluent English.

"I will leave you both," he said after a moment or two; "I want to secure rooms at the Berkeley."

When he was gone. Sir James began to speak in a serious tone.

"My dear Phenays," he said, "I regard this acceptance of yours as most lucky. You, of course, appreciate the responsibility of the appointment you have agreed to take, but I may as well tell you at once it is due to a very special reason that I have chosen you. There are some extraordinary things happening, and it is not only our mission, but our duty to find out what they are."

"I do not understand you, sir," I answered; "but," I continued, "before we proceed further, it is only right that you should know the strange and terrible position in which I myself am placed. Can you listen? I cannot accept this appointment until you know the whole truth."

"Tell me, Phenays, and be quick," was his answer.

He sank into a seat near the window, and turning his back on the outside world listened with attention while I gave him a rapid and precise résumé of the strange events which had come into my life during the last few months. Before I reached the end I could see that he was much excited, and as I finished he leapt to his feet.

"So Mademoiselle Delacourt has been hunting you down?" he said. "She is under the supposition that you possess one of the French Secret Service secrets?"

"Precisely, and she has on three occasions very nearly succeeded in her designs," I answered with a shudder. "That scratch from the tiger's claw was a near thing—touch and go, in fact."

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "She may be the mysterious and powerful centre from which all my present troubles arise. What you have told me is of the greatest importance to us. As a matter of fact, we are just now in a fine mess. The emissaries and spies of our enemies in the Transvaal are ever on the watch. The best detectives are hard at work to discover their whereabouts and modes of operation, but can do nothing. Listen. This is what has just happened—it is worrying me to my grave. On two occasions lately we have discovered that some of our most private secrets in connection with our armaments and reserves have found their way to the. Transvaal through French channels, and the horror of the whole thing is that they are secrets for which I alone am responsible. Everything conceivable has been done to discover the traitor, but the man to do so has yet to be found."

"Then I can name him," I cried. "The man of all men for your work—you have just seen him—Senhor Pinheiro. Political intrigue is his speciality. He speaks almost every European language, and is well known to the police in all the capitals of Europe. He is a Portuguese by birth, but I know for certain that he will be ready and willing to throw himself into the work of this business immediately. He is also implicitly trustworthy. If Mademoiselle Delacourt should be at the bottom of all your trouble, rest assured Senhor Pinheiro will not fail to discover her."

"Has he, too, fallen into the trap of that woman?" asked Sir James.

"Yes," I answered, lowering my voice to a whisper; "the object of his life is to revenge himself. Did you notice that one of his hands lacks two fingers? He owes that to Mademoiselle; but how she did it, and when, I know not, for he will not reveal his secret."

Sir James rubbed his hands with pleasure.

"The arrival of your friend is most opportune," he said; "but we must move rapidly. Now listen! In affairs of such immense importance I cannot employ Pinheiro without getting permission from Scotland Yard. This is a mere form, of course, and I will go there immediately. Phenays, you and Pinheiro must come down to Warleigh Court to-night and dine and sleep. You will be glad to see Evelyn and my wife again, and I want to introduce you both to Monck—my present secretary. He is as troubled over this matter as I am. Now I will leave you, for there is much to be done."

Sir James went off at once, and I strolled across to the Berkeley. I found Pinheiro enjoying an excellent lunch, and I immediately told him the news.

"This is capital," was his reply. "I shall have some business on my own account to transact this afternoon, and will meet you and Sir James at Baker Street at 6.10."

"You know London well," I remarked.

He smiled.

"I lived in London for many years," he said, after a pause. "In those days I was light-hearted and happy; but that was before" His face grew dark and a frown knit his forehead.

I looked at him with admiration. To the outward eye he was only a very thin, hollow-cheeked, dark-looking man, in apparently bad health. It was difficult to realise that he was in reality one of the keenest detectives in Europe—a man to be trusted as men trust those they care most for.

We arrived at Warleigh Court just in time to dress for dinner. I was down before Pinheiro, and had scarcely spoken to Lady Noel and Evelyn before Monck appeared. I was naturally interested in the man who was to marry Evelyn, and whose place I was to take as Noel's private secretary. He was tall, good-looking, and self-possessed. His manner was that of one used to society, he had a low voice and a pleasant accent. On the whole, he was the sort of person to impress one favourably; but as I looked at him, I wondered if he was worthy of Evelyn, whom I had known from a child, and had always regarded with special affection. She was a very beautiful and spirited girl, barely nineteen years of age—I thought her far too young to be Monck's wife, and wondered why Sir James consented to the marriage. She was, to all appearance, in high spirits, and laughed and chatted volubly; but I could not help an uneasy fear that her mirth was a little forced, and once again I looked at Monck to discover the cause. As I glanced at him our eyes met. His eyes were peculiar—very light grey in colour, with black rims round the irises, and thick black lashes. Handsome eyes in themselves, but I did not care for their expression. Instinctively I drew nearer to Evelyn, as if I would protect her, and then, ashamed of myself, entered into an animated conversation with Lady Noel.

During dinner Pinheiro made himself agreeable. He talked on the varied subjects of the day with ease and distinction. It was only when the possible war with the Transvaal was mentioned that he remained silent.

As soon as the ladies had withdrawn, Sir James lowered his voice and began to speak on the subject that was uppermost in all our minds.

"It has been a great pleasure to welcome you here as a guest," he said, turning to Pinheiro. "It is even a greater pleasure to make your acquaintance in your professional capacity. I have been to Scotland Yard to-day, and have secured your services in connection with a very serious official question. Inspector Scott welcomes your co-operation and authorises me to give you my fullest confidence."

"You can depend on my doing my best," answered Pinheiro. "And now," he added, "I have something to say on my own account. I also called on Inspector Scott this afternoon, and have heard from him most of the details of this extremely interesting case. The last instance of treachery relates to armaments which were to be immediately despatched to South. Africa. The particulars were mentioned by you, Sir James, in a sealed despatch to the Colonial Office, and were known only to you and to your secretary, Mr. Monck. Now, one thing is evident, we are face to face with some entirely new criminal method, of which there has been no previous experience in the annals of crime; otherwise, such information could not have been obtained by a spy. There is no doubt whatever that it was through Paris that this information was forwarded to President Kruger. Of course, I can speak freely in the presence of Mr. Monck?"

"Certainly," cried Sir James. "Monck is my private secretary."

"Then I shall betray no confidence when I make a remark? Mr. Phenays has already told you how by an extraordinary coincidence he and I are both in touch with that most dreadful gang of spies, at the head of which is Mademoiselle Delacourt."

At these words Monck got up slowly, went to the door and turned the key in the lock.

"What is the matter, Monck?" said Sir James, irritation in his tone.

"Nothing, Sir James. As we are talking on such very private matters, I thought it best to secure our not being interrupted."

Pinheiro gave the private secretary a keen glance, then looked at Sir James.

"I know all about your adventures in Portugal," said the baronet. "But now to return once more to my own affairs. The day after to-morrow I shall be sending in my communication to the Foreign Office in reference to shell ammunition. Of course, the usual secrecy will be exercised, but, should this matter leak out, as other matters have done, the result will be most disastrous. I shall, of course, have to give up my appointment at the War Office, my reputation will be damaged, I shall be a ruined man. But why should I talk of my private affairs? The disaster to the country at large is what one has to guard against."

"Your position is a very grave one," said Pinheiro, "and you will have to use the utmost caution, remembering the system of espionage to which you are doubtless subjected. Now, I am taking up this matter, and shall work with Inspector Scott, and will not trouble you with any further discussion. I by no means despair of solving the riddle—perhaps before your wedding-day, sir." Here Pinheiro bowed to Monck. "I shall leave here early in the morning and return to town," he added. "By the way, Mr. Monck, I must add my trifle to Miss Noel's wedding presents. Can you tell me the name of a good jeweller?"

Monck mentioned the name of a West End firm, and then added, "But you must not think of giving us a present, Senhor."

"Pray scribble the number down," said Pinheiro, passing him an old envelope. He did so and returned it to the Portuguese. When we joined the ladies, Evelyn came to my side.

"I have been wanting to talk to you," she said. "Come into the conservatory. Oh, do be quick! I don't want father to ask me to sing."

The girl's face was grave and even old for her years. I wondered at its expression, and my heart beat for a moment a little quicker than usual, while a strange sensation of apprehension swept like a cold wind through my frame. We strolled into the conservatory. Evelyn paused by a magnolia tree in full flower, and plucking one of the blossoms began to pull it to pieces.

"Now, tell me," she said quickly. "What is the matter? What is wrong?"

"How do you know there is anything wrong?" I asked.

She stamped her foot. "Am I a child?" she asked. "My mother notices nothing, but I am not blind. My father is in trouble; there is a burden on his heart. Has he confided it to you?"

"He has," I said after a pause. "There is something the matter. It relates to his work at the War Office. I must not tell you more. I cannot betray his confidence, can I?"

"You have told me all I want to know," she replied. She stood still, looking straight before her; her beautiful eyes were full of intense trouble, almost despair. Suddenly they filled to the brim with large drops which rolled down her cheeks. She bent towards me, her voice low and troubled.

"My father's unhappiness has something to do with Reginald Monck."

"What do you mean?" I could not help exclaiming. "You are engaged to Monck."

"I know, I know."

"And you are happy? It cannot be otherwise. I have known you, Evelyn, from a child. Tell me that you are happy; you love the man whom you are about to marry?"

"No," she said in a low voice. "But I am marrying him because it is the only way in which I can save my father."

"Evelyn, what can I do for you? This is terrible!"

We had reached the farther end of the conservatory; there was a door here which led on to the lawn. Evelyn opened it and we both stepped out.

"I can no more confide in you than you can confide in me," she said. "But I will give you one commission for the sake of old times. Discover the truth."

"If I only could!" I exclaimed.

"You must go back. I am suspected. I feel as if the air were full of spies. You cannot guess what I am enduring, Mr. Phenays. For the sake of our old friendship, discover the truth."

"I will," I said; and she left me.

That night I followed Pinheiro into his bedroom.

"What do you think of matters?" I asked. "Can Mademoiselle Delacourt be at the bottom of this mystery?"

"Ask me no questions," answered Pinheiro. "I have hope, and it points in a certain direction; but I may be wrong, of course. If there is one person more than another whom I pity in this unfortunate affair, it is Miss Noel. She is little more than a child—the man is double her age. What could have induced her father to consent to the engagement? Why, the girl is not even happy."

"What eyes you have, my friend!" I could not help remarking.

He smiled.

"Practice," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

I left him and went to my own room; but, although very tired after my long journey, I could not sleep. Evelyn's words haunted me.

"Discover the truth," she had said. How was I to do so?

The next day Sir James, Pinheiro, and Monck went up to town, but I remained at Warleigh Court. I felt tempted to take advantage of the opportunity to draw some further confidences from Evelyn, but she avoided me, devoting herself absolutely to her mother, from whose side she never stirred.

The men returned in time for dinner, and just before dressing Pinheiro drew me aside.

"I intend to do some conjuring tricks to-night, Phenays," he said. "Back me up, will you?"

"Certainly; but what a strange idea!"

"Oh, I just want to amuse the company. I am rather clever at sleight-of-hand."

We entered the drawing-room. After dinner Pinheiro proposed to act magician for the occasion. His proposition was hailed with pleasure, and Evelyn, in particular, expressed her approval.

"Fancy being in the presence of a real live conjurer once more," she said—"a man who draws ribbons out of hats, makes coins spin as if they were alive. This will be a return to my childish days. Be sure of one thing, Senhor—whenever you score a trick, I shall clap you." Pinheiro laughed, and Monck drew near and stood by her side. They made a handsome couple, and a cursory observer would have augured well for the proposed match. In a few moments Pinheiro was busy with cards, coins, hats, and handkerchiefs, delighting us all with his cleverness and sleight-of-hand. As I watched his deft white fingers and the eager expression on his face, while he made his passes, rattling off a patter with each new trick, I could not help thinking of the Great Conjuring Trick, involving tremendous issues, in which he was himself engaged.

"And now," he said, after he had amused us with his clever performances for about a quarter of an hour, "I mean to give you my last and, I hope, my most remarkable trick.

"Will someone in the room write a sentence—any sentence will do? Perhaps, Miss Noel, you will oblige me? When you have written your sentence, fold up the paper, do not show it to anyone, but put it into that hat. Meanwhile, I will leave the room and write the same sentence outside."

"But how can you," cried Lady Noel, "when you won't know anything about Evelyn's choice?"

"Have you never heard of thought-reading, dear madam?" asked Pinheiro, bowing in his most graceful manner.

Evelyn tripped eagerly across the room, took a piece of paper, wrote something on it, carefully folded the paper, and placed it inside the magician's hat. She then placed it on the piano, where no one could possibly disturb it, and Pinheiro, taking up another sheet of paper, prepared to leave the room.

"I have left my pen upstairs," he suddenly exclaimed. "Will you lend me your ic pen, Mr. Monck?"

Monck immediately gave him the pen, and Pinheiro left the room. He returned in a few moments, holding a folded piece of paper in his hand.

"Now, Miss Noel," he said, "will you read your sentence aloud?"

Evelyn took the piece of paper out of the hat and read in a clear voice, so that everyone in the room could hear, the well-known proverb, "."

Pinheiro smiled. He then unfolded his paper, and read, with the calm assurance of a man certain of having scored his trick, the equally well-known proverb, "."

There was a moment's pause of dead silence in the room, then I exclaimed, "You have not done the trick!"

"Yes," he answered gravely; "and I have scored well."

There was something very peculiar and almost uncanny in his words. His eyes danced with triumph. Finally they rested on Monck. "I have scored," he repeated. "I will explain, I hope, before your wedding, Miss Evelyn."

Everyone looked surprised and disappointed, and Lady Noel said in a cold voice—

"I fail to understand."

When we went to onr rooms, I said to Pinheiro—

"You really are an enigma. How can you pretend that you guessed Evelyn's sentence?"

Pinheiro rubbed his hands. "I admit that I gave you all a hard nut to crack," he said; "but the riddle will be explained, all being well, before the wedding, Phenays. Cheer up! things are progressing favourably."

"Pinheiro," I said, "I would give almost anything in the world to prevent this marriage."

His eyes twinkled. "How strange!" he said. "Those are precisely my sentiments." As he spoke he left the room.

The next morning my friend and I both left Warleigh Court, promising to return the following Tuesday for the wedding.

Sir James and Monck travelled up to town with us, and when we got to St. John's Wood, Inspector Scott met us at the station. I thought Pinheiro would have gone off with him, but, to my surprise, he expressed his intention of returning to my rooms with me.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I thought you would spend to-day at the War Office?"

"No," he replied, "I shall spend to-day in your rooms, Phenays. Dear, dear! this is a wicked world!"

I could not get any information out of him, and gave way to a sense of annoyance. When time was so short, and so much hung in the balance, how could he be content to sit down with his hands before him? Nevertheless, strange or not, this was precisely what Pinheiro did intend to do. He looked morose and disagreeable, and, as far as I could tell, did not move a finger to elucidate the mystery.

At last the all-important day arrived.

The wedding was fixed for twelve o'clock, but soon after ten Pinheiro and I arrived at Warleigh Court. Already some forty other guests had assembled.

I went to seek Sir James in his study. His face wore a very perturbed expression.

"Has Pinheiro come?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Well, I must see him at once. The worst has happened. I am almost mad! Once more my secret information has leaked out. This sort of thing cannot go on, and I must of course resign my position at the War Office."

"I am bitterly sorry for you," I answered. "Poor Evelyn! what a sad wedding-day for her!"

"Her attitude puzzles me also," said Noel, raising his anxious face to mine. "I doubt if the child is happy. Her mother tells me that she cried herself to sleep last night."

"For Heaven's sake!" I could not help exclaiming, "do not let this marriage go on if there is any doubt on that point. Though it is the eleventh hour, there is still time to stop it."

"No, no," he said, after a moment of deep thought. "Most girls are nervous on occasions like the present, and Evelyn always knew her own mind. Beyond doubt she is deeply attached to Monck; she has had good opportunities of studying his character, for he has been my secretary over two years."

"You would like to see Senhor Pinheiro," I said, after a pause. "Shall I fetch him for you?"

He had sunk into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Now he started up.

"My thoughts are in a whirl," he exclaimed. "What with the wedding, and this fearful, this disgraceful business, I do not know what I am doing. To tell the truth, Phenays, I am disappointed in your friend. He seems to have done nothing to help us."

"Neither can I understand him," I answered. "But here he comes to answer for himself."

The door opened and Pinheiro entered. A complete change had come over him. During the last few days he had been languid and even lethargic. Now a queer excitement filled him. He carried a small bag in his hand, and also a long, blue envelope.

"Sir James," he said, speaking with rapidity, "I hold in this bag the wedding present which I mean to give to your son-in-law, and in this envelope I hold something else. But to business. I am grieved to have to perform a most disagreeable duty at once."

"What do you mean?" cried Sir James, springing to his feet. "Have you found a clue?"

"It looks like it," answered Pinheiro, opening the bag; "but we will soon tell. Inspector Scott is here. He is in plain clothes. Do not alarm Miss Noel. The matter won't take five minutes. Can I see Monck?"

My heart began to beat. What on earth was going to happen?

Sir James rang the bell. "Ask Mr. Monck to be good enough to step here," he said to the servant who entered.

The man withdrew, and in another moment Monck, dressed for his wedding and looking particularly handsome, entered the room, accompanied by Inspector Scott.

"This must mean good news, Senhor Pinheiro," he exclaimed. "You would not bring Inspector Scott down here for nothing. I hope that you are going to put all our doubts to rest."

By way of answer Pinheiro drew a small sheet of paper from the envelope.

"This paper was signed yesterday in Paris," he said. "It was written by someone in England, and conveyed to someone in Paris the full particulars of a private despatch written by Sir James Noel last Thursday. It is in the form of a letter which is apparently written to a friend, but that is of no consequence. Is anything the matter, Mr. Monck?" "Nothing. Excuse me—I have forgotten a certain matter; I will be back in a moment."

"You must not leave the room just at present, sir," here interrupted Inspector Scott; "you must hear the rest of what this gentleman has to say."

Monck leant against the frame of the window. I saw that his face was white and that his lips trembled.

Without taking any further notice of him, Pinheiro now produced some chemical apparatus from his bag. He proceeded to arrange it. When everything was in order, he looked straight up at Monck, and said in a short, jerky voice—

"I propose, sir, to give you this as your wedding present. Now, pray listen. I must crave your earnest attention, gentlemen. I have here in this glass vessel some zinc trimmings. Observe that I add some diluted sulphuric acid to the trimmings. Hydrogen gas is now evolved. This I will set light to."

As he spoke he struck a match, and, applying it to the opening of the little glass tube, a pale flame began to burn.

"So far, so good, gentlemen," continued Pinheiro. "I now proceed to the next part of my interesting work. I will moisten a portion of this letter" (here he tore off a piece from the letter which he had taken from the blue envelope, and dipped it into water). "I add this paper to the contents of the glass vessel. If now this pale blue flame is changed to lilac colour, and gives me a black deposit at the bottom of this plate that I hold over the flame" (he raised an ordinary dinner-plate in his hand as he spoke), "arsenic is proved to be present in the ink with which it is written."

We all gazed at him in utter amazement; not one word was spoken. I had not the slightest notion of what it meant, but I noticed that Pinheiro's long fingers trembled as he added the moistened paper to the vessel. Almost instantly the flame changed to a distinct lilac colour. He then applied the plate to the flame, and a black, sooty deposit was at once formed. When this happened, he looked up and nodded to Inspector Scott. Before any of us could move or utter a sound, the latter laid his hand on Monck's shoulder.

"I arrest you, Reginald James Monck, on the charge of high treason to Her Majesty's Government."

If a thunderbolt had fallen in the room, the sensation could not have been more profound.

Sir James uttered a sharp cry and reeled back against the mantelpiece. His face was the colour of clay.

"What does it mean?" he exclaimed. "You prove that there is arsenic in the ink of certain writing. What has that got to do with my friend? Monck, speak, man, speak! You look as if a devil had struck you. What is wrong? Why, you were just about to become my child's husband! Pinheiro, explain matters, or I shall go raving mad!"

Pinheiro glanced at me nodded emphatically, and then stepped forward.

"My explanation is quickly given," he said. "It scarcely needed a wise man to be sure that you had a traitor in the camp. Sir James. The question was, Who? Why did I suspect Monck? I will tell you. He has lately come into a good deal of money—into sufficient money to enable him to be a suitor for your daughter's hand. I found on inquiry that he had lately received a legacy from an uncle; but this legacy, instead of amounting to £50,000, as he gave you to understand, was only worth £2,000. As I discovered that he had £50,000 in his possession, my wonder was naturally raised as to how he had obtained it. The diamond ring which he gave to your daughter cost £500. I asked him the name of his jeweller the first night at dinner with the express object of making this inquiry. He wrote the address of the man with his stylographic pen, and at that instant I saw my opportunity of a possible proof. I went to town, thought matters out, and arranged my little performance. You may remember, Sir James, that I did some simple conjuring tricks in your drawing-room last week. You will doubtless recall the fact that my last so-called trick turned out a failure. I told you then that I had scored. I mean now to explain how.

"I asked Monck to lend me his stylographic pen in order to write a sentence, which was supposed to be the same as the one your daughter wrote, in the hall. While there, I opened the pen and inserted a grain of arsenious acid—such a small amount as would make no difference in the use of the pen.

"This happened the night before the next attempt at obtaining Government secrets would be attempted. Everything now depended on whether the paper which was sent to Paris, and there seized by our man, had arsenic on it or not. I put the police on the watch, and an agent of Mademoiselle Delacourt's was arrested yesterday with this letter on his person. The handwriting would have afforded no proof, but the arsenic test is absolute. Marsh's test is so delicate that there was plenty of arsenic in the ink to give a reaction, as you saw."

Pinheiro had scarcely finished speaking before the bride, in all her bridal finery, entered the room.

"Go away, Evelyn! Go away! This is not the place for you!" cried her father. "I will see you presently!" he continued, in a voice of agony.

"I want to hear what you are talking about," she replied gently, and her eyes travelled round the room. "Tell your story to me, Senhor Pinheiro."

"Nay, Miss Noel," he answered; "the story is told."

"Go, Evelyn! Go, I pray of you!" said Sir James again.

She did not seem to hear him. For the first time she noticed something unusual about Monck. He was standing near the wall. Inspector Scott's hand still rested on his shoulder—his eyes were fixed on the ground, his face was cadaverous. Into the girl's eyes now there leapt a curious light. A sort of unholy joy filled them. She went up to Monck and almost hissed her words into his ear.

"Have you broken your word? Have you been doing it again, traitor! and has he" (she flung out her arm in the direction of Pinheiro) "found you out? Then I am saved."

She tottered up against the table; her breath came fast, her lips trembled, but her eyes were bright and tearless.

We all clustered round her. Pinheiro took her hand.

"This man has been arrested on a charge of high treason," he said. "If you have anything to tell, tell it now. Silence is no longer possible."

"Then I will speak," she said. She rose and stood before us. "Think of me as you like," she said. "But this is my story—my terrible story. Two years ago I met Mademoiselle Delacourt in Paris. I was a child—only seventeen. She fascinated me and got me into her power. Without intending it, I told her much about our life and my father's work. I was unconscious of having done wrong. Soon after we returned home, that man" (here she motioned in the direction of Monck) "applied for the post of private secretary to my father. I saw him first, for he came here, and he gave me, when no one was by, a letter from Mademoiselle.

"‘You are in my power,' she wrote. 'Use your influence to get the post he covets for Reginald Monck.'

"I read the letter in his presence and looked my astonishment, and he explained horribly. I was frightened, terrified! I fell into the trap. From that moment my life was hell. I was in his power as well as hers. For a time he was careful, and nothing apparently happened; but this year the work of treachery began. I knew that my father's secrets were betrayed, and I knew that he was the traitor. In my awful agony I cried to him for mercy. Then he made a compromise. If I would consent to marry him, he would leave my father's employment, and from the hour I promised to be his wife he would never betray another secret. I promised, in order to save my father. To-day was to be the day of my marriage, but he has broken his word. He has sold us again."

She paused, uttering a cry. In an instant her father's arms were round her.

"My darling! my poor darling!" I heard him say.

In absolute silence Inspector Scott conveyed Monck from the room. Pinheiro and I followed.