us in the dark. I suppose he put us out of earshot,
so that if the Major mentioned the name of the nobleman we should not
be any the wiser. We remained in the gallery for some time after the
major had left before Sanderson came to us again, carrying with him a
packet.

'The carriage is waiting at the door,' he said, 'and with your
permission, Monsieur Valmont, I will accompany you to your flat.'

I smiled at the old man's extreme caution, but he continued very
gravely:--

'It is not that, Monsieur Valmont. I wish to consult with you, and if
you will accept it, I have another commission to offer.'

'Well,' said I, 'I hope it is not so unsavoury as the last.' But to
this the old man made no response.

There was silence in the carriage as we drove back to my flat.
Sanderson had taken the precaution of pulling down the blinds of the
carriage, which he need not have troubled to do, for, as I have said,
it would have been the simplest matter in the world for me to have
discovered who his employer was, if I had desired to know. As a matter
of fact, I do not know to this day whom he represented.

Once more in my room with the electric light turned on, I was shocked
and astonished to see the expression on Sanderson's face. It was the
face of a man who would grimly commit murder and hang for it. If ever
the thirst for vengeance was portrayed on a human countenance, it was
on his that night. He spoke very quietly, laying down the packet
before him on the table.

'I think you will agree with me,' he said, 'that no punishment on
earth is too severe for that creature calling himself Major Renn.'

'I'm willing to shoot him dead in the streets of London tomorrow,'
said the convict, 'if you give the word.'

Sanderson went on implacably: 'He not only murdered the son, but for
five years has kept the father in an agony of sorrow and apprehension,
bleeding him of money all the time, which was the least of his crimes.
Tomorrow I shall tell my master that his son has been dead these five
years, and heavy as that blow must prove, it will be mitigated by the
fact that his son died an honest and honourable man. I thank you for
offering to kill this vile criminal. I intend that he shall die, but
not so quickly or so mercifully.'

Here he untied the packet, and took from it a photograph, which he
handed to the convict.

'Do you recognise that?'

'Oh yes; that's Wyoming Ed as he appeared at the mine; as, indeed, he
appeared when h