ddressed Poste Restante, Brussels. I
remember it, because I carefully made a note of it, as the whole affair
seemed so extraordinary."

"But this man she called Digby. Was he well-dressed?" I inquired.

"Oh, no--not at all. He seemed poor and shabby. He only had with him a
little handbag, but I believe he came from a considerable distance,
probably from abroad, expressly to see her."

"Then you think he is in Brussels now?"

"Well, I posted the letter on Monday night. To-day is Wednesday," she
said.

I reflected. My first impulse was to go straight to Brussels and send a
message to Mr. Bryant at the Poste Restante--a message that would trap
him into an appointment with me.

But in face of Phrida's present peril could I possibly leave London?

I was at the parting of the ways. To hesitate might be to lose trace of
the man who had proved such a false friend, while, by crossing to
Brussels again, I would be leaving Phrida to her fate.

"You heard no other mention of the person named Royle?" I asked her after
a brief pause, during which I placed a second half-sovereign in her hand.

She reflected for a moment, her eyes cast down upon the carpet, as we
stood together in that sombre little room of horrors.

"Well, yes," she replied thoughtfully. "One afternoon when I was taking
tea into the drawing-room where they were sitting together I heard
mistress say, 'I don't like that man Royle at all. He means
mischief--more especially as he loves the girl.' The gentleman only
laughed and said, 'Have no fear on that score. He knows nothing, and is
not likely to know, unless you tell him.' Then mistress said, 'I've been
a fool, perhaps, but when we met I told him one or two things--sufficient
to cause him to think.' Then the gentleman stood up angrily and cried out
in quite a loud voice: 'What! you fool! You've actually told him--you've
allowed your infernal tongue to wag and let out the truth!' But she said
that she had not told all the truth, and started abusing him--so much so
that he left the room and went out into the garden, where, a few minutes
later, I saw him talking excitedly to Ali. But when the two men talked I
could, of course, understand nothing," added the girl.

"Then your mistress declared that she didn't like the man Royle, eh?"

"Yes; she seemed to fear him--fear that he knew too much about some
business or other," replied the maid. "And to tell you quite frankly,
sir, after watching the mistress and he