calling, and that the last-named was shown in just at the
moment when the fugitive was on the point of leaving."

"Chater." I echoed. "Do you know his Christian name?"

"Hylton Chater. He is apparently a gentleman. Curious that he will tell
us nothing of the reason he called, and of the scene that occurred
between them."

Knowing all that I did, I was not surprised. Leithcourt had undoubtedly
taken him unawares, but knights of industry never betray each other.

My next visit was to Mackenzie, for whom I had to wait nearly an hour,
as he was absent in another quarter of the town.

"Ah, Mr. Gregg!" he cried gladly, as he came in to find me seated in a
chair patiently reading the newspaper. "You are the very person I wish
to see. Have you heard of this strange affair at Rannoch?"

"I have," was my answer. "Has the man in the hospital made any statement
yet?"

"None. He refuses point-blank," answered the detective. "But my own idea
is that the affair has a very close connection with the two mysteries of
the wood."

"The first mystery--that of the man--proves to be a double mystery," I
said.

"How? Explain it."

"Well, the waiter Olinto Santini is alive and well in London."

"What!" he gasped, starting up. "Then he is not the person you
identified him to be?"

"No. But he was masquerading as Santini--made up to resemble him, I
mean, even to the mole upon his face."

"But you identified him positively?"

"When a person is dead it is very easy to mistake countenances. Death
alters the countenance so very much."

"That's true," he said reflectively. "But if the man we've buried is not
the Italian, then the mystery is considerably increased. Why was the
real man's wife here?"

"And where has her body been concealed? That's the question."

"Again a mystery. We have made a thorough search for four days, without
discovering any trace of it. Quite confidentially, I'm wondering if this
man Chater knows anything. It is curious, to say the least, that the
Leithcourts should have fled so hurriedly on this man's appearance. But
have you actually seen Olinto Santini?"

"Yes, and have spoken with him."

"I sent up to London asking that inquiries should be made at the
restaurant in Bayswater, but up to the present I have received no
report."

"I have chatted with Olinto. His wife has mysteriously disappeared, but
he is in ignorance that she is dead."

"You did not tell him anything?"

"Nothing."

"Ah, you did