l a victim with His Excellency--being so often
his companion--he had, with the assistance of the pretty Marie
Balesco, contrived to impress upon my palm the secret sign of the
conspirators.

To this fact I certainly owe my life, for the assassin--a stranger to
Sofia, who had been drawn by lot--would, no doubt, have shot me dead,
had he not seen the secret sign upon my raised hand.

When I returned to Overstow and related my strange adventure, Rayne
was furious that just at the very moment when the deal by which he was
to reap such a huge profit was complete, our friend the Minister
should have been assassinated.

Lola was in the room when I described all that had occurred, listening
breathlessly to my narrative.

I showed them both the strange mark upon my palm, a brand which I
suppose I shall bear to my dying day.

"Then you really owe your life to that girl Balesco, Mr. Hargreave?"
she said, raising her fine dark eyes to mine.

"I certainly do," I replied.

Her father grunted, and after congratulating me upon my escape, said:

"You had nothing to complain about regarding Titeroff, and the
assistance he and Mayhew gave you--eh?"

"Nothing. Without them I could never have acted. Indeed, I could never
have approached the Minister Petkoff."

"Yes," he remarked reflectively. "They're both wily birds. Titeroff
feathered his nest well when he was in Constantinople, and Mayhew is
there because of a little bit of serious trouble in Genoa a couple of
years ago. Of course you never mentioned my name--eh?"

"I only mentioned you as Mr. Goodwin--as you told me," I replied.

He smiled.

"They remembered me, of course?"

"Yes, when I delivered your note of introduction to Titeroff, he at
once made me welcome, and seemed much surprised that I was acquainted
with his friend, Mr. Goodwin."

It was now evident, as I had suspected, that the two men who were so
eager to serve me were international crooks, and members of the great
gang which Rayne controlled.

"Just describe the man Vassos as fully as you can," urged Rayne.

In consequence I went into a minute description of the fussy old
Greek, to which Rayne listened most interestedly.

"Yes," he said at last. "But tell me one thing. Did you notice if he
had any deformity?"

"Well--he walked with a distinct limp."

"And his hand?"

"The little finger on his left hand was deformed," I replied. "I now
remember it."

"Ah!" he cried in instant anger. "As I thoug