y and send it at once.
Further journey probably necessary, visitor in house to-day. Connected
with occurrence in -- Street. Please read Viennese papers. News and
orders for me please send to address A.B. General Postoffice."

This telegram told Herbert Thorne the truth. And the papers which
arrived this morning were to tell him more--what he did not yet know.
But his heart was drawn with terrors which threw lines in his face and
made him look ten years older than on that Tuesday morning when the
detective saw him setting out on his journey with his wife.

When the boat landed at the Lido, Thorne walked off down the road which
led to the ocean side. Muller and Mrs. Bernauer entered the waiting
tramway that took them in the same direction. They dismounted in front
of the bathing establishment, stepped behind a group of bushes and
waited there for Thorne. In about ten minutes they saw his tall figure
passing on the other side of the road. He was walking down to the beach,
holding the still unopened papers in his hand.

A narrow strip of park runs along parallel to the beach in the direction
towards Mala Mocco. Muller and Mrs Bernauer walked along through this
park on the path which was nearest the water. The detective watched the
rapidly moving figure ahead of them, while the woman's tear-dimmed eyes
veiled everything else to her but the path along which her weary feet
hastened. Thorne halted about half way between the bathing establishment
and the customs barracks, looked around to see if he were alone and
threw himself down on the sand.

He had chosen a good place. To the right and to the left were high sand
dunes, before him was the broad surface of the ocean, and at his back
was rising ground, bare sand with here and there a scraggly bush or
a group of high thistles. Herbert Thorne believed himself to be alone
here... as far as a man can be alone over whom hangs the shadow of a
crime. He groaned aloud and hid his pale face in his hands.

In his own distress he did not hear the deep sigh--which, just above
him on the edge of the knoll, broke from the breast of a woman who was
suffering scarcely less than he; he did not know that two pair of sad
eyes looked down upon him. And now into the eyes of the watching woman
there shot a gleam of terror. For Herbert Thorne had taken a revolver
from his pocket and laid it quietly beside him. Then he took out a
notebook and a pencil and placed them beside the weapon. Then slowly