lma is in possession of some great and
terrible secret--a secret which her uncle, Baron Oberg, is desirous of
learning. I know she holds him in deadly fear--she is in terror that she
may inadvertently betray to him the truth!"

CHAPTER IX

STRANGE DISCLOSURES ARE MADE

The strange letter of Elma Heath, combined with what Lydia Moreton had
told me, aroused within me a determination to investigate the mystery.
From the moment I had landed from the _Lola_ on that hot, breathless
night at Leghorn, mystery had crowded upon mystery until it was all
bewildering.

It was now proved that the sweet-faced girl, the original of the torn
photograph, held a secret, and that, by her own words, she knew that
death was approaching. The incomprehensible attempt upon my life, the
strange actions of Hornby and Chater--who, by the way, seemed to have
entirely disappeared--the assassination of the man who by masquerading
as the Italian waiter had met his death, and the murder of Olinto's wife
were all problems which required solution.

Had it not been for the mystery of it all--and mystery ever arouses the
human curiosity--I should have given up trying to get at the truth. Yet
as a man with some leisure, and knowing by that letter of Elma Heath's
that she was in sore distress, I redoubled my efforts to ascertain the
reason of it all.

The mystery of the _Lola_ was still a mystery along the Mediterranean.
At every French and Italian port the yacht's false name and general
build was written in the police-books, while at Lloyd's the name _Lola_
was marked down as among the mysterious craft at sea.

Chater was missing, while Hornby was abroad. Perhaps they were both
cruising again, with their yacht repainted and bearing a fresh name. But
why? What had been their motive?

Stirred by the complete mystery which now seemed to enshroud the
unfortunate girl, I set before myself the task of elucidating it.
Hitherto I had remained passive rather than active, but I now realized
by that curious letter that at least one woman's life was at stake--that
Elma Heath was in possession of some secret.

On leaving Leghorn I had given up all hope of tracing the mysterious
yachtsman, and had left the matter in the hands of the Italian police.
But, without any effort on my own part, I seemed to have been drawn into
a veritable network of strange incidents, all of which combined to form
the most complete and remarkable enigma ever presented in life