here was nothing, Jimmie,
nothing anywhere, and I had no success"--her voice choked a little.
"Nothing! Even Clarke never went again to the house. You can understand
now how I came to know the strange things that I wrote to the Gray Seal,
how the life that I have led, how this life here in the underworld, how
the constant search for some clew on my own account brought them to my
knowledge; and you can understand now, too, why I never dared to let
you meet me, for I knew well enough that, while I worked to undermine my
father's and my uncle's murderers, they were moving heaven and earth to
find me.

"That is all, Jimmie. The day before yesterday, a month after Travers'
first message to let me know that he was coming, there was another
'personal' giving me an hour and a telephone number. He was back! He
had everything--everything! We dared not meet; he was afraid, suspicious
that they had got track of him again. You know the rest. That package
contained the proof that, with Travers' death, can probably never be
obtained again. Do you understand why THEY want it--why it is life
and death to me? Do you understand why my supposed uncle offered huge
rewards for me, why secretly every resource of that hideous organisation
has been employed to find me--that it is only by my DEATH the estate can
pass into their hands, and now--"

She flung out her hands suddenly toward Jimmie Dale. "Oh, Jimmie,
Jimmie, I've--I've fought so long alone! Jimmie, what are we to do?"

He came slowly to his feet. She had fought so long--alone. But now--now
it was his turn to fight--for her. But how? She had not told him
all--surely she had not told him all, for everything depended upon that
package. There had been so much to tell that she had not thought of all,
and she had not told him the details about that.

"That box--No. 428!" he cried quickly. "What is that? What does it
mean?"

She shook her head.

"I do not know," she answered.

"Then who is this John Johansson?"

"I do not know," she said again.

"Nor where the Crime Club is?"

"No"--dully.

He stared at her for a moment in a dazed way.

"My God!" Jimmie Dale murmured.

And then she turned away her head.

"It's--it's pretty bad, isn't it, Jimmie? I--I told you that we did not
hold many trumps."

CHAPTER X

SILVER MAG

There was silence between them. Minute after minute passed. Neither
spoke.

Jimmie Dale dropped back into his chair again, and stared abstractedl