l
the other doctors he thinks that she has sustained some very severe
shock--but of what nature nobody can tell."

"What other doctor has seen her?" I asked.

"Oh!--well, Sir Charles Wendover, in Cavendish Square, has taken a
great interest in her. He has seen her several times, but seems unable
to restore her to her normal state of mind."

Sir Charles was one of our greatest mental specialists, I knew, and if
he had been unable to do anything, then her case must be hopeless.

"But Doctor Moroni took her away to Italy," I said. "For what reason?"

"He took her to Professor Casuto, of Florence--I think that's the
name--but he could do nothing, so she was brought back again."

"Now tell me frankly, Mrs. Alford," I said, looking the stout,
well-preserved woman full in the face. "Have you ever heard the name
of De Gex--a rich gentleman who lives in Stretton Street, just off
Park Lane?"

"De Gex!" she repeated, her countenance assuming a blank expression.
"Yes, I've heard of him. I've read of him in the papers. He's a
millionaire, they say."

"You have never heard of him in connexion with Miss Tennison? Is she
acquainted with him?"

"Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"I have a distinct reason for asking," was my reply. "Remember that I
am seeking to solve the enigma of your young mistress's present
extraordinary state of mind. Any information you can give me will
assist me towards that end."

As I spoke I heard a sweet contralto voice in the adjoining room break
out into a song from one of the popular revues. It was Gabrielle's
voice, I knew.

"All the information I possess, sir, is at your disposal," the woman
assured me. "I only wish Mrs. Tennison was here to answer your
questions."

"But you know as much as she does," I said. "Now tell me--what is your
theory? What happened to your young mistress during the time she
disappeared?"

Mrs. Alford lifted her hands in dismay.

"What can we think? She went away quite bright and happy. When she was
found wandering on the road between London and Portsmouth her memory
was a blank. She was haggard, worn, and much aged--aged in those few
days of her absence. She could remember nothing, and all she could
repeat were those strange words 'Red, green and gold.'"

"I wonder why those colours were so impressed upon her memory?" I
remarked.

"Ah! That is what puzzles the doctors so. Each evening, just as it
grows dark, she sits down and is silent for half an hou