"Then why did they shoot that poor devil of an Italian? And why the
abduction?"

"Oh, I don't know, Saunders." Mark spoke wearily.

"Whoever she is, she can't be in two places at one time, can she?"

"For heaven's sake, Saunders!" Mark's look was wild, his weariness
gone. "What are you driving at? You'll have my brain reeling, too.
What is it now?"

"I thought I'd get you," coolly retorted Saunders. "Here's where the
mystery gets so deep that it looks as if no one can ever fathom it."
He paused.

"Well?" snapped Mark, exasperatedly.

"From habit a detective is always looking about for clues and possible
bits of information. And so, largely as a matter of habit, I glanced
into every open compartment as we passed through the coaches. In the
second car from this the porter was entering Drawing Room A. I had a
clear view of the people inside, and--" the speaker's tone became
impressive--"one was that old lady who told you of the abduction; the
other was--your lady of the tree."

Mark jumped, and seemed about to rise, but Saunders held him back.

"Don't do that; there may be others to notice."

"Ruth? You saw Ruth?"

"I saw that lady, Ruth Atheson or the Duchess, whichever she is, and
the other. I made no mistake. I know for sure. The lady of the tree
is on this train."

It was very late when Mark and Saunders retired to their berths.
Father Murray was already sleeping; they could hear his deep, regular
breathing as they passed his section. Both were relieved, for they
dreaded letting him know what Saunders had discovered. Indeed all
their conversation since Saunders had told Mark of this new
development, had been as to whether they should break the news gently
to the priest, and if so, how; or whether it would be better to conceal
it from him altogether.

Mark tossed in his berth with a mind all too active for sleep. He was
greatly troubled. Cold and calm without, he was far from being cold
and calm within. When he had believed Ruth to be the runaway Grand
Duchess he had tried to put her out of his heart. He knew, even better
than Saunders, that, while there might be love between them, there
could never be marriage. The laws that hedge royalty in were no closed
book to this wanderer over many lands. But he had believed that she
loved him, and there had been some satisfaction in that, even though he
knew he would have to give her up. But the sight of the love passage
between the girl