clock is striking now."

"Yes," I answered. "But where is your father?"

"He has gone to bed, poor old dear. He didn't feel well enough to come,
and I did not urge him. He is really very ill. This dreadful suspense
will kill him if it goes on much longer."

"Let us hope it won't," I said, but with little conviction, I fear, in
my tone. It was harrowing to see her torn by anxiety for her father, and
I yearned to comfort her. But what was there to say? Mr. Bellingham was
breaking up visibly under the stress of the terrible menace that hung
over his daughter, and no words of mine could make the fact less
manifest.

We walked silently up the court. The lady at the window greeted us with
a smiling salutation, Mr. Finneymore removed his pipe and raised his
cap, receiving a gracious bow from Ruth in return, and then we passed
through the covered way into Fetter Lane, where my companion paused and
looked about her.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"The detective," she answered quietly. "It would be a pity if the poor
man should miss me after waiting so long. However, I don't see him"; and
she turned away towards Fleet Street. It was an unpleasant surprise to
me that her sharp eyes had detected the secret spy upon her movements;
and the dry, sardonic tone of her remark pained me, too, recalling, as
it did, the frigid self-possession that had so repelled me in the early
days of our acquaintance. And yet I could not but admire the cool
unconcern with which she faced her horrible peril.

"Tell me a little more about this conference," she said, as we walked
down Fetter Lane. "Your note was rather more concise than lucid; but I
suppose you wrote it in a hurry."

"Yes, I did. And I can't give you any details now. All I know is that
Doctor Norbury has had a letter from a friend of his in Berlin, an
Egyptologist, as I understand, named Lederbogen, who refers to an
English acquaintance of his and Norbury's whom he saw in Vienna about a
year ago. He cannot remember the Englishman's name, but from some of the
circumstances Norbury seems to think that he is referring to your Uncle
John. Of course, if this should turn out to be really the case, it would
set everything straight; so Thorndyke was anxious that you and your
father should meet Norbury and talk it over."

"I see," said Ruth. Her tone was thoughtful but by no means
enthusiastic.

"You don't seem to attach much importance to the matter," I remarked.

"No. It does