I'm eighteen now, remember, dad, and you really ought to speak
to me as a woman--not as a child. Why all this mystery?"

"Because--because it is imperative, Sonia," he replied in a tone quite
unusual. "I--I would tell you all, only--only you would think ill of
me. So I prefer that you, my daughter, should remain in ignorance, and
still love me--still----"

His words were interrupted by Felix, who opened the door, and,
advancing with silent tread, said--

"A gentleman wishes to speak with m'sieur on very urgent business. You
are unacquainted with him, he says. His name is Max Morel, and he must
see you at once. He is in the hall."

Poland's face went a trifle paler. Whom could the stranger be? Why did
he desire an interview at that hour?--for it was already eleven
o'clock.

"Sonia dear," he said quietly, turning to his daughter, "will you
leave me for a few moments? I must see what this gentleman wants."

The girl followed Felix out somewhat reluctantly, when, a few seconds
later, a short, middle-aged Frenchman, with pointed grey beard and
wearing gold pince-nez, was ushered in.

Philip Poland started and instantly went pale at sight of his visitor.

"I need no introduction, m'sieur. You recognize me, I see," remarked
the stranger, in French.

"Yes," was the other's reply. "You are Henri Guertin, chief inspector
of the surete of Paris. We have met before--once."

"And you are no doubt aware of the reason of my visit?"

"I can guess," replied the unhappy man. "You are here to arrest me--I
know. I----"

The renowned detective--one of the greatest criminal investigators in
Europe--glanced quickly at the closed door, and, dropping his voice,
said--

"I am here, not to arrest you, M'sieur Poland--but to afford you an
opportunity of escape."

"Of escape!" gasped the other, his drawn countenance blanched to the
lips.

"Yes, escape. Listen. My instructions are to afford you an easy
opportunity of--well, of escaping the ignominy of arrest, exposure,
trial, and penalty, by a very simple means--death by your own hand."

"Suicide!" echoed Poland, after a painful pause. "Ah! I quite
understand! The Government are not anxious that the scandal should be
made public, eh?" he cried bitterly.

"I have merely told you my instructions," was the detective's
response, as, with a quick, foreign gesture, he displayed on his left
hand a curious old engraved amethyst set in a ring--probably an
episcopal ring of ages long ag