be ill, and then it was stated that he had retired to a
remote Austrian watering-place (name unmentioned) in order to rest and
recuperate. Certain weekly papers of the irresponsible sort gave
publicity to queer rumors--that Sir Cyril had fought a duel and been
wounded, that he had been attacked one night in the streets, even that
he was dead. But these rumors were generally discredited, and
meanwhile the opera season ran its course under the guidance of Sir
Cyril's head man, Mr. Nolan, so famous for his diamond shirt-stud.

Perhaps I could have thrown some light upon the obscurity which
enveloped the doings of Sir Cyril Smart. But I preferred to remain
inactive. Locked away in my writing-case I kept the jewelled dagger so
mysteriously found by me outside the Devonshire Mansion.

I had mentioned the incidents of that night to no one, and probably
not a soul on the planet guessed that the young doctor in attendance
upon Alresca had possession of a little toy-weapon which formed a
startling link between two existences supposed to be unconnected save
in the way of business--those of Sir Cyril and Rosetta Rosa. I
hesitated whether to send the dagger to Rosa, and finally decided that
I would wait until I saw her again, if ever that should happen, and
then do as circumstances should dictate. I often wondered whether the
silent man with the fixed gaze, whom I had met in Oxford Street that
night, had handled the dagger, or whether his presence was a mere
coincidence. To my speculations I discovered no answer.

Then the moment had come when Alresca's thigh was so far mended that,
under special conditions, we could travel, and one evening, after a
journey full of responsibilities for me, we had arrived in Bruges.

Soon afterwards came a slight alteration.

Alresca took pleasure in his lovely house, and I was aware of an
improvement in his condition. The torpor was leaving him, and his
spirits grew livelier. Unfortunately, it was difficult to give him
outdoor exercise, since the roughly paved streets made driving
impossible for him, and he was far from being able to walk. After a
time I contrived to hire a large rowing boat, and on fine afternoons
it was our custom to lower him from the quay among the swans into this
somewhat unwieldy craft, so that he might take the air as a Venetian.
The idea tickled him, and our progress along the disused canals was
always a matter of interest to the towns-people, who showed an
unappeasabl