he young
man's face.

"Are you Miss Ellicott?" he said suddenly in rather halting English,
without turning his head.

"Yes." Her reply was quick, eager. "Dr. Hartmann is expecting a
messenger from London with the stolen snuff box to-day or to-morrow. I
heard them talking about it, last night. The messenger is a stranger to
him. He does not suspect that I am watching him."

The boy nodded gravely. "You are instructed to remain near the front of
the house, or in the reception-room inside, as much as possible, during
the day. The man from London is expected this morning. He may be here at
any moment. Keep your eyes open." He began to whistle merrily, pretended
to remove a stone from one of the horse's shoes, sprang back into the
wagon and drove off to the house, without paying any further attention
to her.

Grace walked slowly up the driveway, and finding a bench near a bed of
geraniums, sat down and pretended to read a book which she had brought
with her. After a time, the delivery wagon returned, but the boy did not
even glance at her as he passed out. She noticed, however, that he was
driving rapidly and appeared to be in a great hurry.

She sat on the bench for over an hour, wondering what would be the next
development in this mysterious affair. She could not shake off the idea
that she would soon see Richard, in spite of the fact that she had no
definite reasons upon which to base her hopes. One thing, however,
seemed certain. If the man with the stolen snuff box had arrived in
Brussels, it clearly meant that Richard had failed to capture him in
London, and it seemed not unreasonable to suppose that he would be
following him.

She thought about the matter so much that it interfered with her
attempts to read the book. After a while she closed it, and sat watching
the distant gardener as he ceaselessly raked the gravel paths.
Everything seemed so quiet, so full of peace--everything, in fact, but
her own thoughts. Somehow it seemed impossible to believe that
underneath all the beauty of this clear autumn day lay plotting, and
tragedy, and even death.

It was close to noon, when she ceased her musings, and rising, went
toward the house. Sitting so long in the open air had made her a bit
chilly. She determined to seek the grateful warmth of the
reception-room. As she mounted the steps of the house she heard sounds
of a cab being driven rapidly along the main street, and a sudden
intuition warned her that somethin