rs from Thors?"

"Sydney Bamborough."

"Good God in heaven! Is that true?"

"Yes, my friend."

Steinmetz passed his broad hand over his forehead as if dazed.

"And who sold them?" he asked.

"His wife."

Count Lanovitch was looking at the burner of the lamp. There was a
peculiar crushed look about the man, as if he had reached the end of his
life, and was lying like a ship, hopelessly disabled in smooth water,
where nothing could affect him more.

Steinmetz scratched his forehead with one finger, reflectively.

"Vassili bought them," he said; "I can guess that."

"You guess right," returned Lanovitch quietly.

Steinmetz sat down. He looked round as if wondering whether the room was
very hot. Then with a large handkerchief he wiped his brow.

"You have surprised me," he admitted. "There are complications. I shall
sit up all night with your news, my dear Stepan. Have you details?
Wonderful--wonderful! Of course there is a God in heaven. How can people
doubt it--eh?"

"Yes," said Stepan Lanovitch quietly. "There is a God in heaven, and at
present he is angry with Russia. Yes, I have details. Sydney Bamborough
came to stay at Thors. Of course he knew all about the Charity
League--you remember that. It appears that his wife was waiting for him
and the papers at Tver. He took them from my room, but he did not get
them all. Had he got them all you would not be sitting there, my friend.
The general scheme he got--the list of committee names, the local
agents, the foreign agents. But the complete list of the League he
failed to find. He secured the list of subscribers, but learned nothing
from it because the sums were identified by a numeral only, the clue to
the numbers being the complete list, which I burned when I missed the
other papers."

Steinmetz nodded curtly.

"That was wise," he said. "You are a clever man, Stepan, but too good
for this world and its rascals. Go on."

"It would appear that Bamborough rode to Tver with the papers, which he
handed to his wife. She took them to Paris while he intended to come
back to Thors. He had a certain cheap cunning and unbounded
impertinence. But--as you know, perhaps--he disappeared."

"Yes," said Steinmetz, scratching his forehead with one finger. "Yes--he
disappeared."

Karl Steinmetz had one great factor of success in this world--an
infinite capacity for holding his cards.

"One more item," said the count, in his businesslike, calm way. "Vassili
paid th