ge of despair.

Slowly the minutes crawled by. Down in the street below a newsboy was
yelling unintelligibly, and in the distance a barrel-organ jangled the
latest music-hall craze; but he was deep, deep in an abyss of suffering,
very far below the surface of things. There was something almost boyishly
forlorn in his attitude. With his face hidden, he looked pathetically
young.

The sound of the opening door recalled him at last, and he started
upright. It was Holmes with the evening paper.

The man spied the pen upon the floor and stooped for it. Bertrand
stretched out a quivering hand, took it from him, and made as if he would
resume his writing. But the pen only wandered aimlessly over the paper,
and in a moment fell again from his nerveless fingers.

Holmes paused. Bertrand sat with his head on his hand as if unaware of
him.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" he ventured.

Bertrand made a slight movement. "If I might have--a little brandy," he
said, speaking with obvious effort.

"Brandy? I'll get it at once, sir," said Holmes, and was gone with the
words.

Returning, he found Bertrand so far master of himself as to force a
smile, but his face was ghastly. There was a blue, pinched look about his
mouth that Holmes, reminiscent of his hospital days, did not like. He had
seen that look before.

But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand
thanked him.

"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?"

"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes.

"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember
that this weakness--this malady of a moment--remain a secret between us
two--between--us--two. _Vous comprenez; non_?"

His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness
into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive
response.

"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?"

"That is what I mean, Holmes."

"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?"

Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back
of his chair.

"I am--quite well," he said impressively.

"Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head
dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight.

As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning
against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street.

Not until h