the cool drawing-room--a room which was
essentially that of a woman of taste and refinement.

A few seconds after I had entered, a tall, grey-haired man came in,
whereupon Mrs. Tennison introduced him as her brother Charles from
Liverpool.

The man glanced at me sharply, and then, smiling pleasantly, took my
hand.

"I have come up to see my sister regarding poor Gabrielle," he said,
when we were seated. "I understand that you have experienced similar
symptoms to hers, and have recovered."

"I have not completely recovered," I replied. "Often I have little
recurrences of lapse of memory for periods from a few moments to a
quarter of an hour."

"My sister has told me that you believe that poor Gabrielle and
yourself are fellow-victims of some plot."

"I am certain of it, Mr. Maxwell," I replied. "And I have already
devoted considerable time and more money than I could really afford in
an attempt to solve the mystery of it all."

"Can you explain the whole circumstances?" he asked. "I am deeply
interested in my unfortunate niece."

"I can relate to you a few of the facts if you wish to hear them," was
my reply. I certainly had no intention of telling him all that I
knew, or of the death and cremation of the mysterious Gabrielle
Engledue--whoever she might have been.

So I explained practically what I had told his sister. I also
described how Professor Vega at Madrid had told me of the two cures
effected by Professor Gourbeil, of Lyons.

"My sister tells me that you suggest Gabrielle should consult him,"
Mr. Maxwell said. "But she has consulted so many specialists. Doctor
Moroni has been most kind to her. He took her to doctors in Paris and
in Italy, but they could do nothing."

"Well, I think that as Professor Gourbeil has cured two persons of the
deadly effects of the drug Miss Tennison should see him," I remarked.

"I quite agree. It is for that reason I have come to London," he said.
"I understand that you, Mr. Garfield, take a personal interest in my
niece, therefore I want to ask you a favour--namely, that if I pay the
expenses would you accompany my sister and her daughter to Lyons?"

"Willingly. But I will pay my own expenses, please," was my prompt
reply.

At first he would not hear of it, until I declined to go unless I went
independently, and then we arranged for our departure.

Four days later we descended at the big busy Perrache station at Lyons
from the lumbering _rapide_ which had brough