ecause I could not bear the uncertainty of it all. Please
go now."

He rose slowly to his feet. She gave him her hand lifelessly. He kept it
for a moment. She drew it away and looked at the place where his lips
had touched it, wonderingly. It was as though her fingers had been
scorched with fire.

"It shall be to-morrow," he whispered, as he passed out.

CHAPTER XXXI

NEARING A CRISIS

From the wilds of Scotland to Monte Carlo, as fast as motor-cars and
train de luxe could bring him, came the right Honourable Meredith
Simpson, a very distinguished member of His Majesty's Government.
Hunterleys, advised of his coming by telegram from Marseilles, met him
at the station, and together the two men made their way at once to
Hunterleys' room across at the Hotel de Paris. Behind locked doors they
spoke for the first time of important matters.

"It's a great find, this of yours, Hunterleys," the Minister
acknowledged, "and it is corroborated, too, by what we know is happening
around us. We have had all the warning in the world just lately. The
Russian Ambassador is in St. Petersburg on leave of absence--in fact for
the last six months he has been taking his duties remarkably lightly.
Tell me how you first heard of the affair?"

"I got wind of it in Sofia," Hunterleys explained. "I travelled from
there quite quietly, loitered about the Italian Riviera, and came on
here as a tourist. The only help I could get hold of here was from
Sidney Roche, who, as you know, is one of our Secret Service men. Roche,
I am sorry to say, was shot last night. He may live but he won't be well
enough to take any further hand in the game here, and I have no one to
take his place."

"Roche shot!" Mr. Simpson exclaimed, in a shocked tone. "How did it
happen?"

"They found him lying on the roof of the Villa Mimosa, just over the
room where the meeting was taking place," Hunterleys replied. "They
chased him round the grounds and we just got him off in a motor-car, but
not before he'd been hit twice. He was just able to tell me a little.
The first meeting was quite informal and very guarded. Douaille was most
cautious--he was there only to listen. The second meeting was last
night. Grex was in the chair, representing Russia."

"You mean the Grand Duke Augustus?" Mr. Simpson interrupted.

Hunterleys nodded.

"Grex is the name he is living under here. He explained Russia's
position. Poor Roche was only able to falter a few words, but