addressed to the
firm, and I have one signed 'Geo. Imer,' addressed to _you_! Finally, I
am a telephone subscriber, and De Beers' number is Bank 5740! Shall I
ring up the London office in the morning and draw their attention to
this parcel, and to the interesting correspondence bearing upon it?"

Baron Hague's large features grew suddenly pinched in appearance. He
leant forward, his hands resting upon his knees. Roles were reversed.
The great banker found himself seeking for a defence--one that might
satisfy the rogue for whom the police of Europe were seeking!

"Why do you make a victim of _me_?" he gasped. "Antony Elschild is----"

"Mr. Antony Elschild is a member of one of the greatest Jewish families
in Europe, you would say? And his interests are wholly British? He has
recognised that, Baron. I have his cheque for fifty thousand pounds!"

"For _how much_?"

"For fifty thousand pounds! Should you care to see it? I am forwarding
it immediately to the _Gleaner_. Mr. Elschild is my friend. He it was
who proposed that this fund be started by the great capitalists so as to
stimulate smaller subscribers. His name is never absent from such lists,
Baron."

The Baron gulped.

"In Berlin--they would say I was mad!"

"And what will they say in Berlin if I call up De Beers in the morning?
Which reputation is preferable, Baron?"

Hague sat staring, fascinated, at the man in the long robe, who smoked
yellow cigarettes and filled the air with their peculiar fumes. It
seemed to him, suddenly, that he had taken leave of his senses, and that
this cell--this pungent perfume--this man with the soul-searching eyes,
the incisive voice--all were tricks of his senses.

What had he preserved the secret of his connection with the Hatton
Garden firm for all these long years--each year determining to quit
whilst safe, but each year lured on by the prospect of vaster gain--only
to lay it at the feet of this Severac Bablon, who would ruin him?

Faintly, sounds of occasional traffic penetrated. From a place of
half-shadows beyond the table, Severac Bablon's luminous eyes watched.
Save for those distant sounds which told of a thoroughfare near by,
silence lay like a fog upon the place, and upon the mind of Baron Hague.

It grew intolerable, this stillness; it bred fear. Who was Severac
Bablon? What was the secret of his power?

Hague looked up.

"Gott im Himmel!" he said hoarsely. "Who are you? Why do you persecute
those who are