he cab. He had only a hand-bag with him, and, carrying this,
he took the underground train to High Street, Kensington. When he
arrived there he drove in another cab to his old hotel, "The Guelph,"
opposite the Park. When alone in his bedroom Giles smoked a complacent
pipe. "If any one did try to follow me," he said to himself, "he must
have missed me when I took the underground railway."

It was close on half-past eleven when he ended his wanderings, too late
to call at the Westminster flat. But Giles thought that Olga would never
think he had traced her flight with Anne, and would not do anything
till the morrow, probably not before twelve o'clock. He was up early,
and went off to New Scotland Yard to see Steel. He did not intend to
tell him about Anne, thinking that the detective might arrest her if he
knew of her whereabouts. But he desired to know if Steel had discovered
anything in connection with the Scarlet Cross. Also, since Steel knew
Olga so well, he might be able to explain why she had come down with her
mother to Rickwell, and why the elder Princess had called on Franklin.
He half thought that Olga, keeping her promise, had brought Anne to
London to have her taken in charge by Steel. But on second thoughts he
fancied that Olga would keep Anne as a hostage, and not deliver her up
if he--Giles--agreed to become her husband. Thus thinking he went to see
Steel.

The detective was within, and saw Giles at once. He looked very pleased
with himself, and saluted Ware with a triumphant smile.

"Well, sir," he said, "I have found out an astonishing lot of things."

"About the murder?" asked Ware apprehensively.

"No." Steel's face fell. "That is still a mystery, and I expect will be
one until that woman--I mean that young lady--is found."

"Do you mean Miss Denham?" demanded Ware stiffly.

"Yes. Do you know where she is?"

Giles shook his head. He was not going to betray Anne to her enemy, as
Steel in his detective capacity assuredly was. "I wish I did," he said.
"I have been at Rickwell trying to find out things. I'll tell you of my
discoveries later. Meantime----"

"You want to hear about mine," cried the detective eagerly and full of
his subject. "Well, the murder can wait. I'll get to the bottom of
that, Mr. Ware. But I am now quite of your opinion. Miss Denham is
innocent. This man Wilson killed the girl."

"I knew that Walter Franklin was guilty," cried Ware.

"I said Wilson," was Steel's reply.

"