that one old man has outwitted the pack of them!"

"You have, as you say, told us much, my dear signor, and much that
you have said is deeply interesting. In your mind it may be that these
various facts are related, and bring you to some sort of conclusion
bearing on the Grey Room; but for us it is not so. These statements
leave us where they find us; they hang on nothing, not even upon one
another in our ears. I speak plainly, since this is a matter for plain
speaking. It is natural that you should not feel as we feel; but I need
not remind you that what to you is merely an extraordinary mystery, to
us is much more. You have imagination, however, far more than I have,
and can guess, without being told, the awful suffering the past has
brought to my daughter and myself."

"Our slow English brains cannot flash our thoughts along so quickly as
yours, signor," said Mary. "It is stupid of us, but--"

"I stand corrected," answered the other instantly. He rose from his
seat, and bowed to them with his hand on his heart.

"I am a withered old fool, and not quick at all. Forgive me. But thus
it stands. Since you did not guess, through pardonable ignorance of a
certain fact, then, for the pleasure of absolute proof, I withhold my
discovery a little longer. There is drama here, but we must be skilled
dramatists and not spoil our climax, or anticipate it. To-morrow it
shall be--perhaps even to-night. You are not going to be kept long
in suspense. Nor will I go alone and disobey Scotland Yard. Your aged
pet--this spaniel dog--shall join me. Good Prince and I will retire
early and, if you so desire it, we shall be very willing to welcome
you in the Grey Room--say some six or seven hours later. I do not sleep
there, but merely sustain a vigil, as all the others did. But it will be
briefer than theirs. You will oblige me?"

Mary spoke, seeing the pain on her father's face. She felt certain that
the old man knew perfectly what he was talking about. She had spoken
aside to Henry, and he agreed with her. Mannetti had solved the mystery;
he had even enabled them to solve it; but now, perhaps to punish them
for their stupidity, he was deliberately withholding the key, half from
love of effect, half in a spirit of mischief. He was planning something
theatrical. He saw himself at the centre of the stage in this tragic
drama, and it was not unnatural that he should desire to figure there
effectively after taking so much trouble. Thus, whi