ed, in a ghastly
voice, "that I am free to leave this place?"

"Yes. Out with you. I could hold you for trespass upon my grounds, for
attempting to break into my house, but I don't want to be bothered with
you. Go!" He went to the door and held it open. "Mayer," he said, "show
this fellow the road. And as for you"--he turned to Duvall and his
wife--"get away from here, and from Brussels, as soon as you like. I
advise you not to stay in the town. I rather think that, through the
evidence of Seltz, I can make it slightly uncomfortable for you. Tell
what story you please. I have done you no injury. You came here of your
own free will--you could have escaped and you would not. As for the
light--" He laughed harshly. "An ordinary arc, focused on your eyes with
a powerful lens. It would probably have blinded you, in time, and if it
kept you awake long enough, you would no doubt have gone mad, but so far
you are not hurt much. I can swear that it is part of my new treatment
for a disordered mental state. My man here will agree with me. What are
you going to do about it? How are you going to explain your robbery of
Seltz in my office, the deception your wife has practised upon me and
upon the United States Minister? And above all, now that I have the
secret I desired, I am quite willing to have a cast made of the snuff
box and return it to you, but I fancy that neither Monsieur de Grissac
nor my friend Lefevre will want to have the matter made public in the
courts. You'd better leave here quietly and take the first steamer to
America. I don't fancy you'll find a very flattering reception awaiting
you in Paris." He turned to the door. "Come, I'll have your belongings
put on a cab, and be glad to be rid of you." He paused beside the
doorway, waiting.

Grace turned to her husband. "Come, Richard," she said. "Let us go."

He made no reply, but followed her blindly. His spirits seemed broken,
he walked like a man in a heavy sleep.

It was just dawn when, half an hour later, Richard Duvall and his wife
drove silently through the ghostly streets of Brussels toward the
railway station. The detective did not speak. He sat silent, plunged in
a deep stupor. Grace, her heart breaking, held one of his hands, and
with white face, gazed helplessly out of the window at the city, just
waking to another day. To all these people the dawn came with some
measure of hope, of happiness, but to her, and to her husband, now once
more beginning thei