asked at last
after a long pause.

The big room--the Room of Secrets--was silent, for the double windows
prevented the noise of the traffic and the "honk" of the taxi horns from
penetrating there. Only the low ticking of the clock broke the quiet.

"I scarcely have any suggestion to offer in that direction," was
Trendall's slow reply. "That feature of the affair still remains a
mystery."

"But cannot this man Barker be induced to make some statement?" he
queried.

"He will scarcely betray the woman to whom he owes his present
prosperity, for he is prosperous and has a snug little balance at his
bank. Besides, even though we took the matter in hand, what could we do?
There is no evidence against him or against the woman. The farcical
proceedings in the coroner's court had tied their hands."

"An open verdict was returned?"

"Yes, at our suggestion. But Professors Dale and Boyd failed to find any
traces of poison or of foul play."

"And yet there _was_ foul play--that is absolutely certain!" declared the
novelist.

"Unfortunately, yes. Poor Bellairs was a brilliant and promising officer,
a man destined to make a distinct mark in the world. It was a pity,
perhaps, that he was such a lady-killer."

"A pity that he fell victim to what was evidently a clever plot, and
yet--yet--I cannot bring myself to believe that your surmise can be
actually correct. He surely would never have sent for the very person who
was his enemy and who had plotted to kill him--it doesn't seem feasible,
does it?"

"Quite as feasible as any of the strange and crooked circumstances which
one finds every day in life's undercurrents," was the quiet rejoinder.
"Remember, he was very fond of her--fascinated by her remarkable beauty."

"But he was engaged to Lady Blanche?"

"He intended to marry her, probably for wealth and position. The woman a
man of Harry's stamp marries is seldom, if ever, the woman he loves,"
added the chief with a somewhat cynical smile, for he was essentially a
man of the world.

"But what secret could Enid Orlebar desire to hide?" exclaimed Fetherston
wonderingly. "If he loved her, he certainly would never have threatened
exposure."

"My dear fellow, I've told you briefly my own theory--a theory formed
upon all the evidence I could collect," replied the tall, dark-eyed man,
as he thrust his hands deeply into his trousers pockets and looked
straight into the eyes of his friend.

"If you are so certain that Enid O