involved in the pending inquiry; and a literal
interpretation of M. Holland's advice was insisted
on in terms which there was no trifling with.
The more Vendale thought of it, the more
plainly the necessity faced him, and said, "Go!"

As he locked up the letter with the receipt,
the association of ideas reminded him of
Obenreizer. A guess at the identity of the suspected
man looked more possible now. Obenreizer
might know.

The thought had barely passed through his
mind, when the door opened, and Obenreizer
entered the room.

' "They told me at Soho-square you were
expected back last night," said Vendale, greeting
him. "Have you done well in the country?
Are you better?"

A thousand thanks. Obenreizer had done
admirably well; Obenreizer was infinitely
better. And now, what news? Any letter from
Neuchâtel?

"A very strange letter," answered Vendale.
"The matter has taken a new turn, and the
letter insists—without excepting anybody—
on my keeping our next proceedings a
profound secret."

"Without excepting anybody?" repeated
Obenreizer. As he said the words, he walked
away again, thoughtfully, to the window at the
other end of the room, looked out for a
moment, and suddenly came back to Vendale.
"Surely they must have forgotten?" he
resumed, "or they would have excepted me?"

"It is Monsieur Rolland who writes," said
Vendale. "And, as you say, he must certainly
have forgotten. That view of the matter quite
escaped me. I was just wishing I had you
to consult, when you came into the room.
And here I am tied by a formal prohibition,
which cannot possibly have been intended to
include you. How very annoying!"

Obenreizer's filmy eyes fixed on Vendale
attentively.

"Perhaps it is more than annoying!" he
said. "I came this morning not only to hear
the news, but to offer myself as messenger,
negotiator—what you will. Would you believe
it? I have letters which oblige me to go to
Switzerland immediately. Messages,
documents, anything—I could have taken them all
to Defresnier and Rolland for you."

"You are the very man I wanted," returned
Vendale. "I had decided, most unwillingly,
on going to Neuchâtel myself, not five minutes
since, because I could find no one here capable
of taking my place. Let me look at the letter
again."

He opened the strong room to get at the
letter. Obenreizer, after first glancing round
him. to make sure that they were alone,
followed a step or two and waited, measuring
Vendale with his eye. Vendale was the tallest
man, and unmistakably the strongest man also
of the two. Obenreizer turned away, and
warmed himself at the fire.

Meanwhile, Vendale read the last paragraph
in the letter for the third time. There was
the plain warning—there was the closing
sentence, which insisted on a literal interpretation
of it. The hand, which was leading Vendale in
the dark, led him on that condition only. A
large sum was at stake: a terrible suspicion
remained to be verified. If he acted on his own
responsibility, and if anything happened to
defeat the object in view, who would be blamed?
As a man of business, Vendale had but one
course to follow. He locked the letter up
again.

"It is most annoying," he said to Obenreizer
—"it is a piece of forgetfulness on Monsieur
Rolland's part which puts me to serious
inconvenience, and places me in an absurdly false
position towards you. What am I to do? I
am acting in a very serious matter, and acting
entirely in the dark. I have no choice but to be
guided, not by the spirit, but by the letter of my
instructions. You understand me, I am sure?
You know, if I had not been fettered in this
way, how gladly I should have accepted your
services?"

"Say no more!" returned Obenreizer. "In
your place I should have done the same. My
good friend, I take no offence. I thank you
for your compliment. We shall be travelling
companions, at any rate," added Obenreizer.
"You go, as I go, at once?"

"At once. I must speak to Marguerite first,
of course!"

"Surely! surely! Speak to her this evening.
Come, and pick me up on the way to
the station. We go together by the mail
train to-night?"

"By the mail train to-night."

It was later than Vendale had anticipated
when he drove up to the house in Soho-square.
Business difficulties, occasioned by his sudden
departure, had presented themselves by dozens.
A cruelly large share of the time which he had
hoped to devote to Marguerite had been
claimed by duties at his office which it was
impossible to neglect.

To his surprise and delight, she was alone in
the drawing-room when he entered it.

"We have only a few minutes, George," she
said. "But Madame Dor has been good to me
—and we can have those few minutes alone."
She threw her arms round his neck, and
whispered eagerly, "Have you done anything
to offend Mr. Obenreizer?"

"I?" exclaimed Vendale, in amazement.

"Hush!" she said, "I want to whisper it.
"You know the little photograph I have got of
you. This afternoon it happened to be on the
chimney-piece. He took it up and looked at
it—and I saw his face in the glass. I know
you have offended him! He is merciless; he is
revengeful; he is as secret as the grave. Don't
go with him, George—don't go with him!"

"My own love," returned Vendale, "you
are letting your fancy frighten you!
Obenreizer and I were never better friends than
we are at this moment."

Before a word more could be said, the
sudden movement of some ponderous body shook
the floor of the next room. The shock was