ut it is essential that I should open this safe in the presence
of Mr. Fowler alone."

As he took the key from my hands and inserted it in the lock, I bowed
and left them.

For half an hour I paced the passage without or wandered through the
back door into the neglected garden, which I found abutted on a disused
graveyard--a very common object, met with often in startlingly unlikely
places in one's walks in Bath.

It was on my return from one of these little rambles that I found the
door of the old lady's sitting-room open, and Don Juan and Mr. Fowler
superintending the removal of the safe by two porters; a third
gentleman had now joined the party.

"This is Mr. Symonds of the Bank of England," said the old Don
ceremoniously. "He has very kindly undertaken the removal of this safe
to London."

I was getting now so used to the Don's mysterious movements that even
this did not surprise me. I noticed, however, that the safe had been
very carefully _sealed_ in addition to being locked. The safe was
carried up to the street and placed on the front seat of a large motor
car which was waiting.

In this the representative of the Bank of England quickly entered, and
two very unmistakable detectives who had been standing by mounted on
the front seat, then the motor puffed away.

"They won't stop now," remarked Mr. Fowler, "until they reach
Threadneedle Street."

Within a quarter of an hour Don Juan and I were back in his private
room at the hotel.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed as we entered, "my mind is now cleared from
that terrible anxiety, and I can rest in peace."

I looked very hard at the old gentleman as he sank into an arm-chair,
but I did not agree with him.

"Excuse me, Don Juan," I said, "I have another very serious matter to
trouble you with."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE OLD GRAVEYARD

"What do you mean?" asked Don Juan.

The old man glanced at me quickly, an anxious look in his eyes.

I looked him straight in the face in return.

"Don Juan," I replied, "Dolores and I love one another."

The anxious look faded into one of softness, and he commenced walking
backwards and forwards in the room, without answering me.

Presently he stopped and faced me again, and in his old eyes, which
were blue like his daughter's, there were tears.

"I will not conceal from you, Anstruther," he began, "the fact that
your affection for Dolores has been apparent to me for some time past,
and has given me cause for