of Justice, whatever scoffers
may say, will bring the truth to light in His own good time. So the two
tragedies may react on one another; for the lives of all of us are bound
together by mysterious and undreamed-of links; and in the effort to free
the soul of a woman from its bondage his own soul may well find its
freedom."

But Fraser Carey was a mystic; and since the materialistic world looks
with suspicion on mysticism, it is probable that even Anstice, who knew
and respected him, would have heard his last speech with a passing
wonder that a man should hold so unpractical and untenable a view of
existence as the words would seem to imply.

CHAPTER III

Before he went to bed on the night of Carey's visit to him Anstice wrote
a letter to the expert recommended by his friend, inquiring whether an
appointment could be made for the following Friday afternoon; and on
Thursday night a laconic telegram arrived fixing three o'clock on Friday
for the suggested interview.

It had seemed to Anstice that a personal interview with the expert would
be far more satisfactory than a prolonged correspondence; and he hurried
through his work on Friday morning and caught the noon express to London
with a minute to spare.

He had the carriage to himself; and during the quick journey to town he
pored over the two specimens of handwriting which he was taking up for
examination until he was more than ever convinced that both were written
by the same hand.

Mr. Clive, the noted handwriting expert, had a flat in Lincoln's Inn;
and thither Anstice hastened in a taxi, arriving just as the clocks of
London were striking three; a feat in punctuality which possibly
accounted for the pleasant smile with which Mr. Clive greeted his
visitor.

The expert was a tall and thin person, with deep-set and brilliant eyes
hidden more or less by a pair of rimless eyeglasses; and Anstice was
suddenly and humorously reminded of the popular idea of a detective as
exemplified in Sherlock Holmes and his accomplished brethren.

When he smiled Mr. Clive lost his somewhat austere expression; and as
Anstice obeyed his invitation to enter his sitting-room the latter felt
that he had come to the right person with whom to discuss the problem of
these annoying letters.

"Now, Dr. Anstice." Clive pushed forward a chair for his visitor and
sank into another one himself, leaning back and joining his finger-tips
in a manner which again reminded Anstice invo