us, with his face thrown forward on his arms. He seemed to be asleep; I
did not notice him particularly."

"Did you not see his face?"

"No."

"Was he young?"

"I should say so."

"And blond?"

"That I cannot say."

"And he remained in that attitude all the time you were talking?"

"Yes, madam."

"And continued so when you left the room?"

"I think so."

"Was he within earshot? Near enough to hear all you said?"

"Most assuredly, if he listened."

"Mr. Tamworth," I now entreated, "try, if possible, to remember one
other fact. If each man present told a story that night, you must have
had ample opportunity of noting each man's face and observing how he
looked. Now, of all that sat in the room, was there not one of an age
not exceeding thirty-five, of fair complexion and gentlemanly
appearance, yet with a dangerous look in his small blue eye, and a
something in his smile that took all the merriment out of it?"

"A short but telling description," commented my guest. "Let me see. Was
there such a man among them? Really, I cannot remember."

"Think, think. Hair very thin above the temples, mustache heavy. When he
spoke he invariably moved his hands; seemed to be nervous, and anxious
to hide it."

"I see him," was Mr. Tamworth's sudden remark. "That description of his
hands recalls him to my mind. Yes; there was such a man in the room that
night. I even recollect his story. It was coarse, but not without wit."

I advanced and surveyed Mr. Tamworth very earnestly. "The man you
thought asleep--the man who was near enough to hear all the Englishman
said--was he or was he not the same we have just been talking about?"

"I never thought of it before, but he did look something like him--his
figure, I mean; I did not see his face."

"It was he," I murmured, with intense conviction, "and the villain--"
But how did I know he was a villain? I paused and pointed to the huge
mantel guarding the fireplace. "If you know how to enter the secret
room, do so. Only I should like to have a few witnesses present besides
myself. Will you wait till I call one or two of my lodgers?"

He bowed with great urbanity. "If you wish to make the discovery
public," said he, "I, of course, have no objection."

But I saw that he was disappointed.

"I can never confront the secret of that room alone," I insisted. "I
must have Dr. Kenyon here at least." And without waiting for my impulses
to cool, I sent a message to the doctor's r