and fifty; his eyes, hair, brows, and lashes were
all of a uniform shade of pale yellow--excepting that the eyes had a
greenish tint--while his face and thin, nervous hands wore a dead,
unwholesome pallor.

The effect was extraordinary. The ageless face looked as if it did not
know how to conform to or mirror any inward emotion; and furthermore, one
was never precisely positive whether or not the pale eyes were following
one, for they somehow, in their uncertain fixedness, suggested the idea
that they were windows behind which the real eyes were incessantly
vigilant. So it was when Stodger introduced him; I could not tell
whether he was watching me or my colleague--or, in truth, whether he was
watching either of us.

"Mr. Burke, Mr. Swift," said Stodger, with a grand air--"Mr. Alexander
Stilwell Burke." Then, in a hoarse aside to me:

"Little matter I want to look after; just 'tend to it while you two are
talking."

CHAPTER II

THE PRIVATE SECRETARY

Stodger at once left us together, having, I surmised, his own method of
getting into the curtained alcove of which he had spoken. In order
that he should have ample time to reach it, I held Burke with a
question or two in the hall.

"Mr. Burke," said I, "who besides yourself and Mr. Page was in the
house last night?"

He replied promptly, but with a deliberate precision, as if he were
making a weighty confidential communication, and wanted to be
exceedingly careful to convey an exact interpretation of his thoughts.

I might now add that this cautious, reflective manner characterized all
his speech, and in time it grew extremely aggravating.

"A young man named Maillot," he said; "Royal Maillot."

"And who is this Royal Maillot?" I next asked.

Was Burke returning my intent look? Or did he have an eye for some
fancied movement behind him, or off there toward the closed library
door? For the life of me, I could not have told with assurance.

"I can't tell you much from my own knowledge," he presently returned;
and now I was pretty positive that he was meeting my regard. "Mr.
Maillot is still here, however; he can speak for himself."

"I know that"--curtly; "but I prefer to be informed beforehand--even if
it's only by hearsay. Who is Mr. Maillot?"

Again the furtive, wandering look behind the blank of the clean-shaven,
ageless features.

"I 've gathered the idea that he 's a young lawyer, and that some
business affair brought him here to con