took place at Vienna between the Emperor of Germany,
the Emperor of Austria, and the Czar of Russia. It contains the
details of a plot against this country and the undertakings entered
into by those several Powers. I want that document, Laverick. Have
I established my claim?"

"You have," Laverick answered. "Why on earth Didn't you come to me
before? Don't you believe that I should have listened to you as
readily as to Mademoiselle Idiale?"

"I wish that I had come," Bellamy admitted, "and yet, here is the
truth, Laverick, because the truth is best. Twenty-two years lie
between us and the time when we knew anything of one another. To
me, therefore, you are a stranger. I had my spies following Von
Behrling that night. I know that you took the pocket-book from his
dead body. If you did not murder him yourself, the deed was done
by an accomplice of yours. How was I to trust you? We are speaking
naked words, my friend. We are dealing with naked truths. To me
you were a murderer and a thief. A word from me and you would have
realized the value of that document. I tell you frankly that
Austria would give you almost any sum for it to-day."

Laverick, strong man though he was, was conscious of a sudden
weakness. He raised his hand to his forehead and drew it away--wet.
He struggled desperately for self-control.

"Bellamy," he said, "here's truth for truth. I am not on my trial
before you. Believe me, man, for God's sake!"

"I'll try," Bellamy promised. "Go on."

"That night I stayed at my office late because I saw ruin before me
on the morrow. I left it meaning to go straight home. I lit a
cigarette near that entry, and by the light of a match, as I was
throwing it away, I saw the murdered man. I think for a time I was
paralyzed. The pocket-book was half dragged out from his pocket.
Why I looked inside it I don't know. I had some sort of wild idea
that I must find out who he was. Mind you, though, I should have
given the alarm at once, but there wasn't a soul in the street.
There was a man lurking in the entry and I chased him, unsuccessfully.
When I came back, the body was still there and the street empty. I
looked inside that pocket-book, which would have been in the
possession of his murderer but for my unexpected appearance. I saw
the notes there. Once more I went out into the street. I gave no
alarm,--I am not attempting to explain why. I was like a man made
suddenly mad. I went back