felt that my
surmise had been wrong. I saw Bristol, from farther up the room,
turn and look back. Something attracted his trained eye, I suppose,
which was not perceptible to me. But he suddenly came striding
along. Obviously he was pursuing the old man, who was just about
to leave the apartment. Seeing that the latter had reached the
doorway, Bristol began to run.

The old man turned; and amid a chorus of exclamations from the
astonished spectators, Bristol sprang upon him!

How it all came about I cannot say, cannot hope to describe; but
there was a short, sharp scuffle, the crack of a well-directed
blow ... and Bristol was rolling on his back, the old man,
hatless, was racing up the Assyrian Room, and everyone in the place
seemed to be shouting at once!

Bristol, with blood streaming from his face, staggered to his feet,
clutching at me for support.

"After him, Mr. Cavanagh!" he cried hoarsely. "It's your turn
to-day! After him! That's Earl Dexter!"

Mostyn waited for no more, but went running quickly through the
Assyrian Room. I may mention here that at the head of the stairs
he found the caped Inverness which had served to conceal Dexter's
mutilated arm, and later, behind a piece of statuary, a wig and
a very ingenious false beard and moustache were discovered. But
of The Stetson Man there was no trace. His brief start had enabled
him to make good his escape.

As Mostyn went off, and a group of visitors flocked in our
direction, Bristol, who had been badly shaken by the blow, turned
to them.

"You will please all leave the Burton Room immediately," he said.

Looks of surprise greeted his words; but with his handkerchief
raised to his face, he peremptorily repeated them. The official
note in his voice was readily to be detected; and the wonder-stricken
group departed with many a backward glance.

As the last left the Burton Room, Bristol pointed, with a rather
shaky finger, at the soft felt hat which lay at his feet. It had
formed part of Dexter's disguise. Close beside it lay another
object which had evidently fallen from the hat--a dull red thing
lying on the polished parquet flooring.

"For God's sake don't go near it!" whispered Bristol. "The room
must be closed for the present. And now I'm off after that man.
Step clear of it."

His words were unnecessary; I shunned it as a leprous thing.

It was the slipper of the Prophet!

CHAPTER XXIII

THE THREE MESSAGES

I s