used before it and read once
again certain passages.

"In the year 1571," it recorded, "the notorious Trois Echelles was
executed in the Place de Greve. He confessed before the king, Charles
IX.... that he performed marvels.... Admiral de Coligny, who also was
present, recollected ... the death of two gentlemen.... He added that
they were found black and swollen."

He turned over the page, with a hand none too steady.

"The famous Marechal d'Ancre, Concini Concini," he read, "was killed
by a pistol shot on the drawbridge of the Louvre by Vitry, Captain of
the Bodyguard, on the 24th of April, 1617.... It was proved that the
Marechal and his wife made use of wax images, which they kept in
coffins...."

Cairn shut the book hastily and began to pace the room again.

"Oh, it is utterly, fantastically incredible!" he groaned. "Yet, with
my own eyes I saw--"

He stepped to a bookshelf and began to look for a book which, so far
as his slight knowledge of the subject bore him, would possibly throw
light upon the darkness. But he failed to find it. Despite the heat of
the weather, the library seemed to have grown chilly. He pressed the
bell.

"Marston," he said to the man who presently came, "you must be very
tired, but Dr. Cairn will be here within an hour. Tell him that I
have gone to Sir Michael Ferrara's."

"But it's after twelve o'clock, sir!"

"I know it is; nevertheless I am going."

"Very good, sir. You will wait there for the Doctor?"

"Exactly, Marston. Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir."

Robert Cairn went out into Half-Moon Street. The night was perfect,
and the cloudless sky lavishly gemmed with stars. He walked on
heedlessly, scarce noting in which direction. An awful conviction was
with him, growing stronger each moment, that some mysterious menace,
some danger unclassifiable, threatened Myra Duquesne. What did he
suspect? He could give it no name. How should he act? He had no idea.

Sir Elwin Groves, whom he had seen that evening, had hinted broadly at
mental trouble as the solution of Sir Michael Ferrara's peculiar
symptoms. Although Sir Michael had had certain transactions with his
solicitor during the early morning, he had apparently forgotten all
about the matter, according to the celebrated physician.

"Between ourselves, Cairn," Sir Elwin had confided, "I believe he
altered his will."

The inquiry of a taxi driver interrupted Cairn's meditations. He
entered the vehicle, giving Sir Michael