hereby. This man of mystery and intrigue was,
I felt, there in Madrid with some malice aforethought. The very fact
that he feared to be recognized was in itself sufficient proof! On the
other hand, Suzor now went out in the daytime, going hither and
thither as though transacting business for his friend. Hambledon had
reported to me how he had sent three cipher telegrams by wireless from
the Correo Central in the Calle Carretas, the first was to London, the
second on the following noon to an address in Paris, and the third at
one o'clock in the morning to Moroni in Florence. The message to the
latter was in figures, groups of five numerals as used by the British
Admiralty. Besides, he had also posted several letters in that big box
at the chief post-office marked "Extranjero."

The message to Moroni was highly suspicious. Harry Hambledon, as a
solicitor, was, of course, a very acute person, and in addition he had
very fortunately entered into the true spirit of the adventure. Though
he longed to be back again at Richmond with his pretty _fiancee_,
Norah Peyton, yet the mystery of the whole affair had bewildered him,
and he was as keen as I was myself in elucidating the strange enigma.

Moroni was no doubt a tool in the hands of that quiet, sallow-faced
man who, by reason of his colossal wealth and huge financial
resources, could even make and unmake dynasties. Oswald De Gex, the
man who without nationality or patriotism pulled a hundred financial
strings both in Europe and in America, held the sinister Doctor Moroni
in his pay. I could discern that fact, just as I could see that the
man Suzor, who had so cleverly posed as an official of the Credit
Lyonnais, was one of the many confidential agents of the mysterious De
Gex.

One evening I went, by appointment, to the Nuevo Club, to which I had
been admitted as a foreign member, and in the smoking-room I awaited
Hambledon.

At last he came through the big swing doors, and approaching me,
excitedly exclaimed:

"They've both gone out to Segovia to see the Countess de Chamartin. De
Gex sent a wire early this morning and then, on receipt of a reply,
they hired a car and drove out to keep the appointment."

"Chamartin was a Spanish financier. De Gex is one of international
fame--a millionaire," I remarked. "The wits of De Gex are perhaps
pitted against the widow and the executors of the dead man. Don't you
agree?"

"Entirely," was Hambledon's reply. "I follow the trend