of office. I want, if possible, to find the paper that
Henson tried to hide on the day you bought the cigar-case."

The basket proved to be a large one, and was partially filled with
letters that had never been opened--begging-letters, Ruth said. For half
an hour David was engaged in smoothing out crumpled sheets of paper,
until at length his search was rewarded. He held a packet of note-paper,
the usual six sheets, one inside the other, that generally go to
correspondence sheets of good quality. It was crushed up, but Steel
flattened it out and held it up for Ruth's inspection.

"Now, here is a find!" he cried. "Look at the address in green at the
top: '15, Downend Terrace.' Five sheets of my own best notepaper, printed
especially for myself, in this basket! Originally this was a block of six
sheets, but the one has been written upon and the others crushed up like
this. Beyond doubt the paper was stolen from my study. And--what's this?"

He held up the thick paper to the light. At the foot of the top sheet was
plainly indented in outline the initials "D. S."

"My own cipher," David went on. "Scrawled in so boldly as to mark on the
under sheet of paper. Almost invariably I use initials instead of my full
name unless it is quite formal business."

"And what is to be done now?" Ruth asked.

"Find the letter forged over what looks like a genuine cipher," David
said, grimly.

CHAPTER XXII

"THE LIGHT THAT FAILED"

Bell followed Dr. Cross into the hospital with a sense of familiar
pleasure. The cool, sweet smell of the place, the decorous silence, the
order of it all appealed to him strongly. It was as the old war-horse
who sniffs the battle from afar. And the battle with death was ever a
joy to Bell.

"This is all contrary to regulations, of course," he suggested.

"Well, it is," Cross admitted. "But I am an enthusiast, and one doesn't
often get a chance of chatting with a brilliant, erratic star like
yourself. Besides, our man is not in the hospital proper. He is in a
kind of annexe by my own quarters, and he scoffs the suggestion of
being nursed."

Bell nodded, understanding perfectly. He came at length to a
brilliantly-lighted room, where a dark man with an exceedingly high
forehead and wonderfully piercing eyes was sitting up in bed. The dark
eyes lighted with pleasure as they fell upon Bell's queer, shambling
figure and white hair.

"The labour we delight in physics pain," he greeted with a laug