ed to
see him, be careful. Remember, we have the document--we are
hesitating. So long as he believes that it is in our possession,
he will not look elsewhere."

"I will be careful," Louise promised, with her arms around his neck.
"And, dear, take care. When I think of poor Rudolph Von Behrling,
I tremble, also, for you. It seems to me that your danger is no
less than his."

"I do not go about with twenty thousand pounds in my pocket-book,"
with a smile.

She shook her head.

"No, but Streuss believes that you have the document which he is
pledged to recover. Be careful that they do not lead you into a
trap. They are not above anything, these men. I heard once of a
Bulgarian in Vienna who was tortured--tortured almost to death--before
he spoke. Then they thrust him into a lunatic asylum. Remember,
dear, they have no consciences and no pity."

"We are in London," he reminded her.

"So was Von Behrling," she answered quickly,--"not only in London
but in a safe part of London. Yet he is dead."

"It was not their doing," he declared. "In their own country, they
have the whole machinery of their wonderful police system at their
backs, and no fear of the law in their hearts. Here they must needs
go cautiously. I don't think you need be afraid," he added, smiling,
as he opened the door. "I think I can promise you that if you will
do me the honor we will sup together to-night."

"You must fetch me from the Opera House," Louise insisted. "It is
a bargain. I have suffered enough neglect at your hands. One thing,
David,--where do you go first from here?"

"To find the man," Bellamy answered gravely, "who was watching Von
Behrling when he left me. If any man in England knows anything of
the murder, it must be he. He should be at my rooms by now."

CHAPTER XIII

STEPHEN LAVERICK'S CONSCIENCE

Stephen Laverick was a bachelor--his friends called him an
incorrigible one. He had a small but pleasantly situated suite of
rooms in Whitehall Court, looking out upon the river. His habits
were almost monotonous in their regularity, and the morning
following his late night in the city was no exception to the
general rule. At eight o'clock, the valet attached to the suite
knocked at his door and informed him that his bath was ready. He
awoke at once from a sound sleep, sat up in bed, and remembered the
events of the preceding evening.

At first he was inclined to doubt that slowly stirring effort