met, and it is one of the greatest
pleasures I have ever known to talk to her, even for a few minutes,
but I am more at peace with myself and with the world when I am away
from her."

There was a gleam of approval in Sabatini's dark eyes. He nodded
thoughtfully.

"It is well spoken. My sister chose to marry Samuel Weatherley, and
the women of our race have been famous throughout history for their
constancy. Must you, my dear young friend, go and hide your head in
the sand because a woman is beautiful and chooses to be kind to you?
Fenella values your friendship. You have done her a service and you
have done me a service. A few nights ago it amused me to feed your
suspicions. This morning I feel otherwise. We do not choose, either
of us, that you should think of us quite in the way you are thinking
now."

Arnold hesitated no longer then. He came and stood by his visitor.

"Since you insist, then," he declared, "I will ask you the questions
which I should have asked your sister. That is what you desire?"

"Assuredly," Sabatini assented.

"First then, who killed Rosario?"

"There is a certain directness about your methods," Sabatini said
suavely, "which commends itself to me. No one could mistake you for
anything but an Englishman."

"Tell me who killed Rosario!" Arnold repeated.

"As you will," Sabatini replied. "Rosario was murdered by a
Portuguese Jew--a man of the name of Isaac Lalonde."

CHAPTER XXX

SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED

Arnold stood quite still for several moments. The shock seemed to
have deprived him even of the power of speech. Sabatini watched him
curiously.

"Is it my fancy," he inquired, "or is the name familiar to you?"

"The name is familiar," Arnold confessed.

Sabatini, for a moment, appeared to be puzzled.

"Lalonde," he repeated to himself. "Why, Lalonde," he added, looking
up quickly, "was the name of the young lady whom you brought with
you to Bourne End. An uncommon name, too."

"Her uncle," Arnold declared; "the same man, beyond a doubt. The
police tried to arrest him two days ago, and he escaped. You might
have read of it in the paper. It was spoken of as an attempt to
capture an anarchist. Lalonde fired at them when he made his
escape."

Sabatini sighed.

"It is a small world," he admitted. "I know all about Isaac Lalonde,
but I am very sorry indeed to hear that the young lady is connected
with him. She seemed--I hope you will forgive me--to speak as though
sh