thin the big office for hours was impossible. The
uniformed doorkeeper who sat upon a high desk overlooking everything,
would quickly demand my business, and expel me.

No, my only place was out in the open street. Not a pleasant prospect in
winter, and for how many days I could not tell.

For aught I knew, the fugitive had called for the woman's letter and left
the capital. But he, being aware that the police were in search of him,
would, I thought, if he called at the post office at all for letters,
come there after dark. Hence, I had lost no time in mounting guard.

My thoughts, as I stood there, were, indeed, bitter and confused.

The woman Petre had not, as far as I could make out, made any
incriminating statement to the police. Yet she undoubtedly believed me to
be dead, and I reflected in triumph upon the unpleasant surprise in store
for her when we met--as meet we undoubtedly would.

The amazing problem, viewed briefly, stood thus: The girl, Marie Bracq,
had been killed by a knife with a three-cornered blade, such knife having
been and being still in the possession of Phrida, my well-beloved, whose
finger-prints were found in the room near the body of the poor girl. The
grave and terrible suspicion resting upon Phrida was increased and even
corroborated by her firm resolve to preserve secrecy, her admissions, and
her avowed determination to take her own life rather than face
accusation.

On the other hand, there was the mystery of the identity of Marie Bracq,
the mystery of the identity of the man who had passed as Sir Digby
Kemsley, the reason of his flight, if Phrida were guilty, and the mystery
of the woman Petre, and her accomplices.

Yes. The whole affair was one great and complete problem, the extent of
which even Edwards, expert as he was, had, as yet, failed to discover.
The more I tried to solve it the more hopelessly complicated did it
become.

I could see no light through the veil of mystery and suspicion in which
my well-beloved had become enveloped.

Why had that man--the man I now hated with so fierce an hatred--held her
in the hollow of his unscrupulous hands? She had admitted that, whenever
he ordered her to do any action, she was bound to obey.

Yes. My love was that man's slave! I ground my teeth when the bitter
thought flashed across my perturbed mind.

Ah! what a poor, ignorant fool I had been! And how that scoundrel must
have laughed at me!

I was anxious to meet him face to fa