sullenly. "We have both done his
dirty work--and Moroni assisted him."

"You sent that soap to Mr. Garfield--eh?"

The man under arrest with Rivero's pistol still pointed at him nodded
in the affirmative.

"And you went to The Hague and there met the Baron van Veltrup. You
put that little piece of steel into his glove. I know that you did,"
Rivero went on relentlessly.

"Yes. De Gex paid me for it," was his reply.

"As he paid Despujol--eh?"

"Yes."

"Very well," replied Rivero. "I will note your replies. De Gex is
expecting you to call upon him to-day, is he not?"

"Yes. At one o'clock. I was to receive some money," he laughed grimly.

The Spaniard having been taken away in a taxi to Bow Street Police
Station, together with his luggage, we went on to Stretton Street.

"Mr. De Gex is not in," replied the man-servant who appeared in answer
to my ring.

"Never mind," I said. "My friends and I have some business with him."
And I walked into that big familiar hall, followed by Superintendent
Fletcher, Senor Rivero, and two detectives.

"We have a meeting here," I explained casually to the smart
man-servant who in surprise at our sudden entry showed us to the
library, that same room in which I remembered sitting on that fateful
November night.

It was nearly a year ago since I had last been in that big, handsomely
furnished apartment. I did not remain there, for it was my intention
to greet my would-be murderer on his return. Therefore I went to the
hall and there awaited him.

Just before one o'clock he entered with his latchkey, and he having
closed the door I stepped forward in his path.

"I think you know me--Mr. De Gex!" I exclaimed very firmly, my eyes
fixed on him.

He started, and for a second went pale. Then in indignation, he
exclaimed:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I am here to see you, Mr. De Gex," I replied quite calmly.

"I don't know you," he declared angrily.

"Perhaps not," I laughed. "But there are others with me here who wish
to speak a few words with you."

As I said this Superintendent Fletcher stepped forward, while behind
him came the others.

"Mr. Oswald De Gex?" he asked. "Is that your name?"

The owner of the big mansion went pale to the lips, and muttered an
affirmative.

"I hold a warrant for your arrest on the charge of the wilful murder
of Gabrielle Engledue on the seventh of November last," said the
Superintendent. "Your accomplice Sanz is already