just after I came back from Roedene, I have wondered--and always
wondered. I can discover nothing--absolutely nothing! Father is so
secret, and neither Madame nor he will tell me anything. They only say
that their business is no affair of mine. My father has business, no
doubt, Mr. Hargreave. From his business he derives his income. But I
cannot see why he should so constantly meet men and women in all
sorts of social positions and give them orders, as it were. I am not
blind, neither am I deaf."

"You have listened in secret, eh?" I asked.

"I confess that I have." Then, after a slight pause, she went on: "And
I have overheard some very strange conversations. My father seems to
direct the good fortunes of certain of his friends, while at the same
time he plots against his enemies. But I suppose, after all, it is
business."

Business! Little did the girl dream of the real occupation of her
unscrupulous father, or the desperate characters of his friends, both
male and female.

Truly, she was very sweet and charming, and I hated to think that in
her innocence she existed in that fevered world of plotting and
desperate crime.

We walked along the broad terrace in the twilight. Beyond spread the
wide park to a dark belt of trees, Sherman's Copse, it was called, a
delightfully shady place in summer where we had often strolled
together.

As we chatted, I reflected. So old Morley Tarrant was a gaol-bird!
Hence it was but natural that Rudolph Rayne, who preserved such a high
degree of respectability, would hesitate to meet him providing he knew
that the police were watching. He certainly knew that, hence the
secrecy of their appointment.

As we walked Madame suddenly emerged from the French windows of the
drawing-room and joined us.

"I've just had a wire from Rudolph," she said. "He's leaving
Copenhagen to-night and will be back to-morrow night. I'd no idea that
he had been over in Denmark. But there! he is such a bird of passage
that one never knows where he may be to-morrow." And she laughed.

Later we all four sat down to dinner, a decorous meal, well-cooked and
well-served. But the character of the household was shown by the fact
that none of the servants--discreetly chosen, of course, and in
themselves members of the criminal organization--betrayed the least
surprise that I, who acted as chauffeur, should be admitted to that
curious family circle.

Rayne returned next night, tired and travel-worn, and I met