ed why I had taken on this disguise. I was
not many yards from you when it suddenly dawned upon you that I could
not sleep at Lydia Meredith's flat unless I went there in the guise of
an old man."

"Why should you want to sleep at her flat at all?" she asked innocently.
"It doesn't seem to me to be a very proper ambition."

"That is an unnecessary question, and I'm wasting my time when I answer
you," said Jack sternly. "I went there to save her life, to protect her
against your murderous plots!"

"My murderous plots?" she repeated aghast. "You surely don't know what
you're saying."

"I know this," and his face was not pleasant to see. "I have sufficient
evidence to secure the arrest of your father, and possibly yourself. For
months I have been working on that first providential accident of
yours--the rich Australian who died with such remarkable suddenness. I
may not get you in the Meredith case, and I may not be able to jail you
for your attacks on Mrs. Meredith, but I have enough evidence to hang
your father for the earlier crime."

Her face was blank--expressionless. Never before had she been brought up
short with such a threat as the man was uttering, nor had she ever been
in danger of detection. And all the time she was eyeing him so steadily,
not a muscle of her face moving, her mind was groping back into the
past, examining every detail of the crime he had mentioned, seeking for
some flaw in the carefully prepared plan which had brought a good man to
a violent and untimely end.

"That kind of bluff doesn't impress me," she said at last. "You're in a
poor way when you have to invent crimes to attach to me."

"We'll go into that later. Where is Lydia?" he said shortly.

"I tell you I don't know, except that she has gone out for a drive. I
expect her back very soon."

"Is your father with her?"

She shook her head.

"No, father went out early. I don't know who gave you authority to
cross-examine me. Why, Jack Glover, you have all the importance of a
French examining magistrate," she smiled.

"You may learn how important they are soon," he said significantly.
"Where is your chauffeur, Mordon?"

"He is gone, too--in fact, he is driving Lydia. Why?" she asked with a
little tightening of heart. She had only just been in time, she thought.
So they had associated Mordon with the forgery!

His first words confirmed this suspicion.

"There is a warrant for Mordon which will be executed as soon as he
retu