the same drug, or other diabolical method, had been
used upon us both, and that I, the stronger of the two, had recovered,
while she still remained in that half demented state?

It certainly seemed so. Hence the more I reflected the more intense
became my resolve to fathom the mystery and bring those responsible to
justice.

Further, she had been terrified by being told that I intended to come
there to kill her! Moroni had purposely told her that, evidently in
anticipation that we might meet! He had pointed me out in Florence and
warned her that I was her bitterest enemy. Was it therefore any wonder
that she would not tell me more than absolutely obliged?

"Do you recollect ever meeting a French gentleman named Monsieur
Suzor?" I asked her presently.

Instantly she exchanged glances with the woman Alford.

"No," was her slow reply, her eyes again downcast. "I have no
knowledge of any such man."

It was upon the tip of my tongue to point out that they had met that
mysterious Frenchman in Kensington Gardens, but I hesitated. They
certainly were unaware that I had watched them.

Again, my French friend was a mystery. I did not lose sight of the
fact that our first meeting had taken place on the day before my
startling adventure in Stretton Street, and I began to wonder whether
the man from Paris had not followed me up to York and purposely joined
the train in which I had travelled back to London.

Why did both the woman Alford and Gabrielle Tennison deny all
knowledge of the man whom they had met with such precautions of
secrecy, and who, when afterwards he discovered that I was following
him, had so cleverly evaded me? The man Suzor was evidently implicated
in the plot, though I had never previously suspected it! Twice he had
travelled with me, meeting me as though by accident, yet I now saw
that he had been my companion with some set purpose in view.

What could it be?

It became quite plain that I could not hope to obtain anything further
from either Gabrielle or the servant, therefore I assumed a polite and
sympathetic attitude and told them that I hoped to call again on Mrs.
Tennison's return. Afterwards I left, feeling that at least I had
gained some knowledge, even though it served to bewilder me the more.

Later I called upon Sir Charles Wendover in Cavendish Square, whom I
found to be a quiet elderly man of severe professional aspect and
demeanour, a man whose photograph I had often seen in the newspa