e letter he had been writing, and handed it to
Hunterleys.

"Well," he said, "I have left everything in order. If there's any
mysterious disappearance from here, it will be the mysterious
disappearance of a newspaper correspondent, and nothing else."

"Good luck, then, old chap!" Hunterleys wished him. "If you pull through
this time, I think our job will be done. I'll tell them at headquarters
that you deserve a year's holiday."

Roche smiled a little queerly.

"Don't forget," he pointed out, "that it was you who scented out the
whole plot. I've simply done the Scotland Yard work. The worst of our
job is," he added, as he opened the door, "that we don't want holidays.
We are like drugged beings. The thing gets hold of us. I suppose if they
gave me a holiday I should spend it in St. Petersburg. That's where we
ought to send our best men just now. So long, Sir Henry."

They shook hands once more. Roche's face was set in grim lines. They
were both silent for a moment. It was the farewell of men whose eyes are
fixed upon the great things.

"Good luck to you!" Hunterleys repeated fervently, as he turned and
walked down the tiled way.

CHAPTER XXIV

HUNTERLEYS SCENTS MURDER

The concierge of the Hotel de Paris was a man of great stature and
imposing appearance. Nevertheless, when Hunterleys crossed the road and
climbed the steps to the hotel, he seemed for a moment like a man
reduced to pulp. He absolutely forgot his usual dignified but courteous
greeting. With mouth a little open and knees which seemed to have
collapsed, he stared at this unexpected apparition as he came into sight
and stared at him as he entered the hotel. Hunterleys glanced behind
with a slight frown. The incident, inexplicable though it was, would
have passed at once from his memory, but that directly he entered the
hotel he was conscious of the very similar behaviour and attitude
towards him of the chief reception clerk. He paused on his way, a little
bewildered, and called the man to him. The clerk, however, was already
rushing towards the office with his coat-tails flying behind him.
Hunterleys crossed the floor and rang the bell for the lift. Directly he
stepped in, the lift man vacated his place, and with his eyes nearly
starting out of his head, seemed about to make a rush for his life.

"Come back here," Hunterleys ordered sternly. "Take me up to my room at
once."

The man returned unsteadily and with marked reluctance. He clo